“Well, today’s your lucky day, Heartbreak. Meet the smoothest member of the Campus Drivers!”
He flexes his pecs, and I try my hardest not to roll my eyes.
“The what now?”
“The Campus Drivers.” He says the words slowly, shooting me an offended look.
I rack my brain, but I’m totally blanking. Nada. “As in, drivers on campus? Okay…”
“The ones and only! Four knights on their steeds of steel, ready and waiting to serve damsels in distress!”
“A damsels-only service?” I shoot back, frowning.
“Preferably.” He snickers, making a move toward the car parked right next to us.
I cross my arms over my chest and shake my head in disbelief. He’s got all the cockiness of a guy who gets around way too much for his own good. Classic douchey player energy. My least favorite type.
“So, shall we do business?”
“How much?” I sigh.
“The first ride is always free, baby.” He smirks.
“Building loyalty. Great marketing,” I say flatly.
“Building addiction, really. Okay, the clock’s ticking: Are you getting in?”
I shoot another glance at my bags. There’s a bitter taste of sadness flooding the back of my throat.
“Okay.” My lips are quivering.Damn it.
I hear him pop the trunk. He strides back over and grabs two of my bags, and I follow. Just as he’s scooping up the rest of my stuff, my eyes dart to the inside of the car.
“See? No room left to hide a body,” he whispers at me with a creepy grin.
“You really know how to charm your customers, huh?”
I walk around to the other side of the car, when he runs ahead, pulling open the door with a theatrical bow.
“After you, m’lady.”
“I wouldn’t bother,” I warn him, getting into the car and fastening my seat belt. “Once I’m living on campus, I’ll be walking. And once Kirk sees sense, I’ll be back on his scooter.”
“In that case…”
He leaves my door open wide, forcing me to stretch so far out to close it I think my shoulder might pop. He heads back around the car, pausing at the front to kiss the hood and gaze at it lovingly, and slips behind the wheel.
“I just picked her back up from the garage,” he says, clocking my raised eyebrow. “I missed her.”
“Right…”
“A 1969 Camaro SS,” he adds. He’s practically bursting with pride.
“Am I supposed to be impressed?”
He looks at me as if I just ran over his dog.
“Sorry, I mean… Wow!” I mime fascination. “A Cama-thingy, that’s just… Wow!”
