I couldn't keep it in anymore, and I started laughing too.
“I don't know shit about any of this,” I confessed.
“You brat!” she yelled as she slapped me on the shoulder.
“Sorry,” I shrugged, though I wasn't. Not at all.
“We've been standing out here for fifteen minutes!” she exclaimed. “I'm going to be late for school.”
“Most definitely.” I tried to hold my laughter down, but it wasn't really working.
“You are such an ass,” she said, but she was still smiling a bit.
“Want a ride?” I asked her. I refrained from adding on my cock.
“I don't think I have much choice,” she said. “Let me get my book bag.”
I had to stop myself from bouncing in my seat as she made her way from her car to mine and got in. I was definitely going to stay under the speed limit for this ride. I wanted to spend as much time with her as possible, and the more time I could spend with her alone, the better. If I could just keep this up, eventually she'd fall for me. She'd have no choice against the Malone charm.
“So what’s your favorite number?” I asked as I pulled excruciatingly slowly out of her driveway. I crawled along at twenty-four miles per hour.
“Um…seriously?” She glanced over to me with a puzzled expression.
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“I figured it was a get-to-know-you kind of thing,” I replied.
“Shouldn’t you ask my favorite color then?” she finally said.
“Nah,” I said with a shrug. “I prefer numbers.”
“Eight,” she said.
“Eight?” I repeated. “That’s a weird favorite number.”
“It is not,” she retorted. “It’s very symmetrical.”
I couldn’t really argue with that, but still—eight?
“What kind of music do you like?”
“Lots of different things,” she said. “I like some of the trendy stuff, but I also like jazz and classic rock. Mostly I listen to heavy metal.”
Interesting.
I continued to pepper her with questions all the way to school, trying to figure her out. I didn’t really make a whole lot of progress until I asked about her favorite flower just as I was pulling into the school parking lot.
She turned full on to look at me, her expression both curious and accusatory.
“Mums,” she said bluntly.
I pushed my lips together, trying to hide the smile.
“Really?” I asked. “Why is that?”
“Well, they are very magical flowers,” she said, the look on her face not changing as I parked and turned off the car.