“Morning,” he says. “You’re here early.”
I make some sort of grumbling sound in response, still looking out the window.
“Are you gearing up to yell at me again?”
“Maybe.”
He laughs quietly and his knee knocks against mine as his body shakes with it. I want to pull my knee away. Ireallywant to. But I don’t. The heat of his body puts me at ease, and givenhow cold it is on the bus, I might just use him for body heat. That’s all.
“Come on. You’ve got to admit it’s a little funny that you thought I was there for you.”
“Shut. Up.”
“No. Seriously. The look on your face when—”
I whip my head toward his, meeting those infuriating green eyes with a fierce look. “Can you at leastpretendnot to be a pretentious asshole for two minutes?”
Evan tuts, leaning into me to whisper, “Oh, but Scarlett, Iama pretentious asshole.” I roll my eyes, turning up the volume of the music on my phone, but he doesn’t get the hint and continues talking. “What are you listening to?”
I glare at him. “It’s five in the morning. Why are you talking so much?”
He shrugs, folding his arms against his chest. “I usually wake up this early. This is like prime time for me to get on your nerves.”
“Oh, goody.”
“So, what are you listening to?”
For a second, I think to keep ignoring him, but maybe if I give himsomethinghe won’t bother me the whole way to the airport.
I turn my screen slightly so he can see the list of songs I’ve got cued up. He looks for a few seconds without saying anything and I start to grow impatient. I scroll a little further so he can see the full range of music I’ve downloaded for the trip.
“Hm,” is all he says after a while.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“What?” I press again, more irritated.
He grins. “Nothing. I just thought you’d be more of a Paramore, My Chemical Romance, angsty-teenage-girl kind of music listener.”
It’s hard to tell if he’s insulting me or complimenting me. When his eyes dip to my sweatshirt, I see a glimmer of a smirk on his lips, but still, I hold my chin up proudly and say, “I can be when I’m in the mood for it.”
He hums again, nodding toward my phone. “I like Sade too.”
“You do?” I can’t hide the surprise in my voice. I might have become an expert at the How to Piss Off Evan game, but there’s still so much I don’t know about him. I’m curious to know how many other ways I can insult him more than anything.
“Yeah,” he says. “My dad would listen to her albums every morning. I used to think it was because he was still in love with my mom, but when you start listening to her voice . . . you can’t stop.”
I nod in understanding, not sure what to do with this little bit of information he’s given me. I clear my throat. “Now you have to show me your playlist. It’s only fair.”
He laughs, digging around in his pocket. “When have thingseverbeen fair with us?”
I’m transported back into that closet when he says that.
Do youwantmy help?
I don’t know why it threw me off so much. It could’ve been so easy to just say yes and hear what he had to say. I didn’t even have to take his advice, but I know he’s had more experience with those kinds of events than I have, given the whole my-parents-not-trusting-me thing. Even if I’d just spent a few minutes with him in that closet I might’ve relaxed or something. Or at least calmed down enough so my hands didn’t shake when I got to the podium to present my speech. But I pushed through without his help and my parents were beaming when I came down to greet them. That’s got to be enough for me right now.
