His arm falls from around me. “A senior riding the bus?” Nuh-uh. Can’t have that. You’re coming with me.”
Before I can protest he grabs my hand. Not to hold my hand, but to pull me along. People begin to stare as he drags me from the direction of the bus loop to the opposite end where the parking lot is.
“I don’t mind riding the bus, Ansel.”
“Yeah, well, can you stop and get coffee on the bus? No, I don’t think you can.”
He doesn’t let me go until we’re at his car, and at this point I don’t feel like running to try to catch my bus to make a point.
He unlocks the car and I get inside, setting my backpack between my feet.
Horns honk and tires squeal as students race to get out of the parking
lot before they let the buses through.
Ansel turns the car on and I promptly roll the window down as he backs out. “You don’t mind, right?”
He shakes his head and lowers his. “Nope, prefer it actually.”
It’s a fairly warm day, but there’s a crispness to the air and I know it means chillier days are around the corner.
Leaning back against the headrest, I let the air whip my hair around my shoulders. It’ll be a tangled mess but I don’t care.
I look over at Ansel, his strong arm gripping the wheel in one hand. The slender column of his throat. He’s a pale skinned work of art and I’m the damaged new girl. He doesn’t know that, though, and I can’t help wondering why he’s taken me under his wing.
His gaze darts to me before returning to the road. “What?”
“Nothing,” I answer looking out the window at the mountains in the distance.
Salt Lake City isn’t short on the stunning views.
“You were looking at me.”
“Am I not allowed to look?”
He chuckles. The sound rumbles in his chest. “Yeah, look all you want, I don’t care. I was wondering why.”
“I was thinking.” I look away from the window. He’s haloed by the yellow sun. The golden glow seems at odds with the white, black, and gray aesthetic of him. Ansel has the moody artist vibe down, even if he’s the complete opposite of moody.
“About what?”
Getting answers from me is like pulling teeth, but he seems undeterred.
“I still don’t understand why you want to be friends with me?”
The blinker comes on and he turns onto the main road leading into the city.
“I don’t know.” He shrugs, loosening his grip on the wheel. “You seem like someone I’m meant to know.”
“That makes no sense.” My nose crinkles.
His eyes pierce me for a second. “It does to me.”
Chapter Twelve
The condo door opens and Sage enters, dropping his bag on the floor. His tie is askew and his hair mussed like he’s been shoving his fingers through it all day.
“You’re home early,” I remark, closing my laptop lid on my homework. I decided to work at the kitchen bar today, instead of holing up in my room like I normally do.