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"Yes, sir."
He pulls me outside and a pair of headlights round the corner.
The driver's door opens and Liam steps out.
He looks at the cop, then at me.
Nooooo. Please God, no…
"You the guy they sent from Exeter?" the officer asks.
"Yes." Liam is still staring at me. "That's me."
The manager steps out and takes a blinding-flash photo before clearing his throat. "The principal just confirmed this is the pickup guy."
"Drive safe with our little teenage drinker here." The cop walks me to the passenger side. "I held back on giving her a lecture sinceyour academy plans to handle that. I also confiscated all the fake IDs."
"Fake IDs?" Liam asks.
"Oh, yeah." The cop laughs as he helps me into the car. "This girl had quite the collection. She was Taylor, Isadora, Rebecca, whatever. Kids these days, right?"
"Yes,kids." Liam returns to the driver's side, looking at me through the glass. "Thank you very much, Officer…"
2
GENEVIEVE
Pa-tsh. Pa-tsh. Pa-tshhhh….
The windshield wipers attack the glass as Liam speeds down the highway. The four rings in his Audi’s logo are shaking their heads at me, like they’re upset on his behalf.
He hasn’t uttered a syllable since we started this drive and hasn’t even bothered to turn on the radio.
Or the heat.
He’s staring straight ahead with his jaw clenched. His knuckles are gripping the steering wheel so tightly that I can see bone peeking through his flesh.
Between the intoxicating woodsy scent of his cologne and the alcohol rushing through my veins, I’m trying to convince myself that this is all a dream.
I’ll wake up in my dorm room at any moment.
“So, are you one of the new security administrators?” I try to strike up a new conversation. “Is that why they called you to pick me up?”
He grips the steering wheel even tighter, not answering.
“For the record, it wasn’t like I was out partying, I just needed some fresh air and literary conversation.”
He grunts.
“That’s why I told you my name was Rebecca.” I swallow as we approach a red light. “I was planning to tell you the truth whenever you called, because even though I feel like we have a connection, I didn’t want you to—”
I stop talking as he slowly turns to face me.
The sea blue irises that captivated me earlier are now filled with stormy rage. The perfect lips that were so close to touching mine are no longer offering an invitation; they’re pressed into a hard, angry line.
The light flashes green, and he turns away, resuming the drive.
I don’t dare to say anything else.
