“You are not driving me.”
“I am, though.”
“You are absolutely not.”
“You wanna bet?” I grin, because I know I’ve already won.
She stares at me, jaw tight, like she’s debating if it’s worth lunging across the table and strangling me.
Then her phone buzzes.
Jared.
I see her glance at the notification, see her hesitate, and then she grabs it and flips it over, screen down. She chooses not to answer him
That’s when I know I have her. I reach over, grab her notebook, and flip to a blank page.
“What the hell are you doing?” she asks, frowning as I scribble something down.
I slide it across the table.
“That’s my number, you’re lucky, I don’t give it to most people,” I say. “Text me your address.”
It’s a good excuse to get her number, she’s been insisting on using email like we’re in the 12thcentury or something.
She snorts. “You really think I’m just gonna hand that over?”
“Yep.” I lean back, stretching. “Might as well—because I’m picking you up for class, too.”
Her eyes widen slightly. “Excuse me?”
“I’ve got morning classes, anyway. I’ll be driving in for nine every day. Might as well save you from biking in the cold. Oh wait, you can’t because it’s broken,”
“Wait. You’re actually taking a full schedule?” she asks, like it’s the most surprising concept.
“Couple extra, actually. Just for fun.”
She stares at me like I just said I enjoy long walks off cliffs.
“You’re voluntarily taking extra classes? In your senior year?”
“Yeah,” I say easily.
“Why?”
I shrug. “Why not?”
She tilts her head slightly, studying me. Like she’s trying to figure me out. Guess I don’t fit into whatever box she put me in.
Good.
I grin, tapping the notebook. “Address, Mittens. Don’t make me stalk you.”
She huffs, exasperated.
“You are the most annoying person I’ve ever met.”
“And yet,” I say, grabbing my coffee and standing up, “you still haven’t told me no.”
