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Two
Andrew had been a menace from the start.
We met under unfavorable conditions. I was waiting outside of our high school, on a frigid Monday night. I stamped my feet impatiently, trying to make my individual toes feel like part of my foot again. I feared that if I opened my mouth, all of the moisture there would turn to ice, but even the exhalations from my nose burst forth in a cloud of icy smoke. I shoved my hands deep into my fleece-lined pockets, but nothing helped. I couldn’t take my mind off of the wintery fingers of death wrapping themselves around my body.
“Waiting for someone?”
I jerked my head toward the voice, a little to my left. I hadn’t seen him standing there before, but there he was: a tall, shadowy, lanky form leaning against the brick half-wall next to the school. I immediately frowned, despite the fact that doing so in this cold made my forehead hurt. Anyone that tall, that could sneak up on me, was too quiet to be trusted.
“Something,” I said finally. I squinted into the darkness. “The sports bus.”
“Ah, so not a senior then.” I could hear the mischief in his voice, speaking of years of little brother syndrome and pranks gone wrong—or right.
I opened my mouth to tell him about himself but thought better of it. Instead, I said, “Yes, I’m a senior. Are you?”
“Yes. Which is why someone’s coming to pick me up.” His voice was, decidedly, too smug for my liking. Let’s take that down a notch, shall we?
“Seniors should have their own cars though, no?” I could hear the smugness in my own voice. “So wouldn’t that make you less of one, as well?”
He paused to think about this and I gave myself a mental high-five.
“I suppose it does,” he finally replied. Satisfied, I turned away from him. Take that, asshat.
“What’s your name?”
My irritation instantly flared back up. I pushed on my fingers, trying to work the numbness out of them as I looked for the bus. The one time Danny is late, I have to deal with this guy, I thought to myself. I hoped that maybe if I was silent enough, he would get the hint, but no. This lanky stranger seemed to have an endless amount of patience—and ways to irritate me.
“Alicia Jones,” I said. “Most people call me Ace.”
I frowned at the lie. Only my friends and teammates call me Ace. Why did I tell him that?
“Ace, huh. Is that your street name?”
“Where is your ride?” I asked. “Or do you have nothing to do but sneak up on unsuspecting people and pepper them with questions?”
He murmured a laugh and my breath caught in my throat. My watch, which kept track of my heart rate, beeped to let me know that it was too elevated. Take a breath, I could almost hear it chirp. I inhaled deeply and regretted it. I was almost sure that my nostrils were frozen over.
“Not in the mood to talk,” he mused. “Okay.” I breathed an inaudible sigh of relief as I felt him turn away from me in the darkness. I did a little hop in place to continue my bid for increased body heat—although, I noted, I wasn’t feeling that cold right then. Something about the timbre of his voice, the warmth and familiarity in his tone, made me want to kick him. Or listen to his tongue taste the flavor of my nickname. But who knew which was true?
“What sport do you play?” he asked. I let out a sustained groan. This kid never shut up, it seemed.
“Gymnastics,” I replied, bracing myself for the inevitable. Because people just couldn’t resist asking me—
“…a little tall for that?”
I bit down on my lip, hard, to keep the words in. My mom was always on me about my cursing. How will you ever get married, using that language? We’re better than that, Alicia. You can’t go around being a stereotype of your race and gender. Don’t be the angry black girl.
“Nope,” I said instead.
“I see.”
The quiet rumbling of a diesel engine almost made me leap for joy. The chill in the air, coupled by this too-inquisitive stranger, made the bus a true godsend.
“Have a good night, Ace,” he said, putting emphasis on my nickname. I shivered at the sound, though I convinced myself it was just the cold. This kid, whose name I didn’t even know, reminded me of warm blankets on a cold day, or friendships that lasted a lifetime, and it was utterly disconcerting. And his voice. That voice could make even the most stoic girl blush.
I pushed the traitorous thoughts from my mind and snorted. If I was lucky, I’d never see him again. If I was unlucky, too, I thought before I could stop myself.
“So how did your date go?”
