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I draw back, giving him a look. “How do you know?”
He shrugs. “You drink one every morning.”
“Stalk much?”
“It’s noticeable,” he says. “I’d expect a basic bitch like you to drink one of those fluffy coffee drinks.”
“Coffee stains your teeth,” I mutter. I might as well get used to people knowing I can’t afford to get my teeth whitened or do anything else that rich girls do. The whole school knows I’m poor. Just another way I’ve tricked them.
Colt holds the door, and we step out into the cold November sun. I slide a pair of sunglasses on, grateful for the layer of protection. “So, where we headed, if not bubble tea?” he asks cheerfully.
Of course he’s happy to see me fall. He deserves to revel in the glory more than anyone. “You don’t have to come with me,” I say.
“I know.”
“I’m driving.”
“Cool.”
He strides ahead, opening the door to June Bug and reaching for my backpack. He turns me around, pulling it off my shoulders and down my arms. I stand there like a mannequin, not sure how to process the fact that guys do that kind of thing. He sets my bag in the back, and I climb in and reach for the seatbelt, thankful I have something to occupy my hands. But then Colt’s hand closes around mine, and a ball of white-hot electricity shoots up my arm like wildfire. A gasp tears from my lips, and I drop my head back on the seat, trying to breathe while he leans over me, reaching around to buckle my seatbelt.
Kill me, why don’t you?
Without comment, Colt closes my door and circles around, swinging down into the passenger seat with such easy comfort it makes my head swim. I gulp at the sight of his strong, masculine body in my passenger seat, the angle of his hips just begging for me to wrap my legs around them…
Get a grip, you fucking pervert. He doesn’t want you. You just ugly-cried in front of him.
“Right,” I breathe, my heart racing as I fumble the key into the ignition and fire up the engine. The chatter calms my nerves, and I shift into gear and pull out of the lot.
“Where we headed?” Colt asks again.
“It’s a surprise.”
“I thought you hated surprises,” he points out, looking so fucking smug it makes my thighs clench. God, that should not make me hot.
“I thought you liked surprises,” I shoot back, grinning as I gun the engine.
Colt jolts back against the seat, then grins when he recovers from the sudden speed. “God damn,” he mutters, looking at me like…
Fuck. Fuck.Fuck.
Why is he looking at me like that? He hasn’t looked at me that way since last year, and he doesn’t know he ever did. My heart is wheeling like a butterfly finally set free in the wide, wild sky.
“What?” I ask, skidding to a stop at a light. There are too many cars around to drive as fast as I am, and way too many to drive as fast as I want. But I’m feeling reckless and undone.
“Nothing,” he says, shaking his head.
“What?” I press, laughing a little this time. “Tell me what you’re thinking.” The appreciation in his eyes makes me fucking giddy, especially when I jet through the intersection when the light turns green, and I see Colt still watching me drive.
“I can’t say.”
“Of course you can,” I say, shifting and weaving between cars. “If it’s about me, you have to tell me.”
“I really can’t.”
“Why?” I ask, so frustrated I could shake the answer out of him.
“I just can’t,” he says, looking out the window.
