—
I reread theshort text conversation between me and Seth during my Lyft ride to our mystery destination. I don’t know what Natasha has planned for us, but I’m certain I’m not going to like it. And I’m even more certain I’m not going to like spending the day with Seth.
He was much easier to deal with when I only felt overwhelming wrath at the mere sight of his stupid pretty face. Now that I’ve become the bigger person and all that bullshit, I can’t seem to get a handle on where we stand.
I don’t even know where I want us to stand. Other than several feet apart. Definitely not close enough that the salty sunshine scent of him brings back memories of hour-long make-out sessions and cuddling during movie nights.
“Here we are,” my Lyft driver says, and I realize I must have been staring into space for an awkward amount of time.
“Thanks,” I mutter, hopping out of her Prius without really paying attention to where I’m landing.
But one look at what’s parked along the curb a few feet away from me and my stomach sinks.
My phone chirps with a text at exactly ten o’clock.
Natasha:Surprise! I’m sending you and Seth on your tourist-in-LA day!
Me:You mean the tourist day I was supposed to enjoy ALONE?
Natasha:Minor detail. Take lots of pics, post some Stories, and enjoy the ride!
I shove my phone in the back pocket of my jeans, glad I dressed for comfort instead of style today. “I donotget paid enough for this shit.”
Seth climbs out of the backseat of his own Lyft a minute later, also dressed for comfort in fitted jeans and a white T-shirt. Of course, his simple ensemble doesn’t do anything to take away from his hotness, which is just rude.
He joins me on the sidewalk, his eyes locked on the monstrosity in front of us. “Please tell me this isn’t what we’re doing today.”
“It is. Natasha just texted me. It’s my ‘be a tourist in LA’ assignment.” I gesture helplessly to the double-decker bus, painted a blinding neon orange with the wordsSee the Sightsemblazoned on the side, along with neon palm trees, a bright sun, and blue waves painted with actual glitter.
For a second, we just stand in pained silence. At least this time, we’re not the ones causing the pain.
Seth shoves his hand through his hair. “Okay. Well, we have two ways to go about this. We either pout the entire time like teenagers—”
“I like that option, let’s do that.” I cross my arms over my chest and stick out my lower lip.
“Or,” he barrels on as if I never spoke, “we make the best of it and actually try to have some fun.”
“I know I should choose option B, but I’m still very much an advocate for A.” I sneak a peek at him out of the corner of my eye, trying not to smile when I catch him rolling his eyes with a grin. I make him wait all of ten seconds just to make a point. “Okay, fine. We’ll try to make the best of it.” I marchover to the guy standing at the bus’s entrance, clipboard in hand. “Is there booze on this ride?”
“No, ma’am, but we make several stops throughout the city and you can hop on and off at any stop.”
Wow. A bus ride, no booze, and ama’amall in one.
Seth steps up next to me, giving the guy our names in exchange for two hot-pink wristbands. He gestures for me to board first.
“Top or bottom?” I practically dare him to go for the obvious joke.
“I think making the best of it means we head to the top level, Parker.” He raises one eyebrow as he deftly avoids my sex pun setup.
I ignore him, carefully climbing up the winding staircase and heading for a seat all the way in the back. Of course the entire upper deck is packed and there’s only one bench seat available. I slide in first, pressing up against the wall.
Seth folds himself in next to me, and despite my best efforts, it’s impossible for us to keep even a sliver of space between us. His jeaned thigh presses against my jeaned thigh, and heat that is surely coming from the sun beats down on us.
Seth pulls a baseball hat from his back pocket and slips it over his dark hair, which seems to have grown even just in the short time he’s been in town. “Remember how we always used to sit in the back of the bus on class trips?”
A smile tugs on my lips despite my best attempts to stifle it. “You held my hand for the first time in the backseat of a bus.”
A soft chuckle escapes him. “I don’t think I’ve ever been more nervous in my life.”
