hadn’t heard his footsteps, but as I dropped my chin to my hand I realized a shadow had appeared beside me. Turning my head, I gasped, nearly falling off my bench. Speaking of Mother Nature’s artwork .
Aaron half-smiled, hands in his jacket pockets. A leather bag was slung over his shoulder, car keys dangling from one hand. He wore straight-legged jeans with the knees torn out . . . jeans that showed no sign of bandage or a cast underneath.
“Hey,” he said.
“Um, hey.” I straightened up, hoping he couldn’t see my heart pounding below my shirt. “What are you doing here?”
He shrugged. “Makeup work for class. You?”
“Same.” It was too embarrassing to say I bombed a test and decided to retake it.
“Oh.” He nodded, glancing out at the parking lot. The Cougar sat partially hidden behind a newer style Acura. Being the only two vehicles in the second row, I wondered how I didn’t see it sooner.
“So . . . You waiting for your ride?” Aaron asked.
I nodded. “You heading to the shelter?”
“No. Home.” His eyes drifted sideways, back up to mine. “You need a ride?”
I blinked at him. Whoa. Did he really just ask me that? My stomach, while enduring a new shipment of butterflies, turned a little sour. Too many secrets hid behind those gorgeous eyes. While part of me was dying to take him up on his offer, the other part screamed bad idea.
“My mom should be here anytime. But thanks.”
He sighed, looking towards the sky. A lightning flash went off over the mountains. “You know, it’s not like I’m some creeper out to get you or something like that.”
There it was: the perfect opening for me to finally start questioning him. I opened my mouth, about to take it.
But then he added, with a very cute, warm smile that made those freckles stretch, “Though I do keep hoping you’ll give me the chance to know a little more about you. You seem sort of . . . special. Not like other girls.”
I forgot how to speak. Closing my mouth, I sat there a second, soaking in his words. Special? Me, the plain girl who wore glasses and couldn’t keep her hair straight, who hates high heels and can’t flirt to save her life— that was the so-called special girl he wanted to know more about?
“I’m sorry,” I said, thinking this might be some kind of cruel joke, “but I doubt I’m your type.”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “How about you let me decide that, okay?” He nodded towards the Cougar. “Come on, I won’t bite.”
“I . . .” I couldn’t come up with a response. By this time, my whole face and neck had turned colors, and I shivered with the idea that Aaron seemed to like me. Not just like me, but like -liked me. I’d never really had a boyfriend. It was an awesome feeling, but then it was an awful feeling because . . . it could be a joke. And I could be falling for it. Boys had pulled jokes on me like this before, and it was cruel.
I meant to tell him no. I still didn’t think it was a good idea. But when I opened my mouth, somehow the words came out like, “I, um . . . Okay.”
He grinned. “Cool. Come on.”
Picking up my bags, I felt goose bumps pop up as I moved to follow him. Okay, so I should’ve said no. I should’ve told him that he had a whole lot of explaining to do before I’d even look at him again . . . but I couldn’t. He was just too alluring, and to be honest I knew his type: you had to play in his field if you wanted answers to anything. I wanted answers, and I wanted to see if he was being honest about liking me. If he wasn’t and had other intentions, a can of pepper spray sat in the pocket of my purse.
I quickly sent a text to Mom. Friend is giving me a ride home. See you at the house.
Aaron sauntered towards the Cougar, moving evenly beside me. There wasn’t a limp or a stagger, or anything to his walk that said he’d been injured. Peering through the window, I saw the interior of his car was well-kept and totally old school.
Learning to Kill: Stories