Donovan smiles at her in the rearview mirror. “What do you want to listen to?”
“Anything but this. It’s lame—no offense, Carrie.”
How dumb can you get?She thinks I chose the music, when this is her crush’s playlist. I stifle a laugh.Game over, bitch!I really want tosneak a look at him. I suddenly feel on top of the world, but I decide to play it low-key. I flick the stereo to another station.
“How are classes, Lydia?”
“Not too bad,” she calls out over the music. “I’ve got a lead for an internship in LA. I need to ace my exams if I’m going to make it work.”
“LA is the best.”
“I’m obsessed with it!” She leans in. “Don’t they have an amazing basketball team there?”
Oh, just a little team called the Lakers…
Don nods. “Damn straight.”
“Well, if you end up getting signed by them, we could hang out.” She twirls a strand of hair around her finger.
“Is your seat belt fastened, Lydia?” I ask.
“Yeah. Why?” She sounds confused.
“No reason.”
That’s too bad.
“Carrie is super caring,” Don says quickly. “She’s all about safety first.”
I glance at him. If I didn’t know him so well, I’d think he was being genuine. These days, I have no problem reading him, though.
“Where’s he dropping you off?” Lydia asks.
“Good question.” I turn in my seat. “Where are you dropping me off, Don?”
“I haven’t decided yet.”
Lydia gasps. “Are you guys dating?”
It’s a simple question, but warning bells are ringing hard.Get me out of here.
“Like he said—I’m his bodyguard.”
I keep my eyes riveted on the license plate in front of us. Anything to avoid Don’s gaze.
It’s been almost a week since his birthday, and we’ve spent every waking moment together—every sleeping moment, too. That doesn’t mean we’re dating, though.
I turn back to my chapter and keep quiet for the rest of the trip, flinching every now and then at the strident giggles coming from behind me, rolling my eyes hard when Don jumps out of the car and walks around to open the door for Lydia once we arrive. I eye the key in the ignition. Maybe Ishouldsteal his car, after all.It’s just his job, Carrie—he’s just doing his job. Breathe…
He slides back into the driver’s seat and warms his hands against the vents.
“She wanted to screw you senseless,” I say matter-of-factly.
“Who can blame her?”
“I don’t know what she’s been picturing, but maybe somebody should tell her there’s not all that much to see under those clothes…”
“Uh-huh.”
