“Hey,” he called out the window, his eyes apologetic. “I’m so sorry about that – I took that turn a bit fast and didn’t see you in time. I’m still getting the hang of driving this baby.” His voice was nearly bashful as he gently stroked the leather steering wheel.
Translation:Daddy bought me a new, expensive toy and I almost ran you down you with it… Sorry!
Great apology, rich boy.
I rolled my eyes, turned away, and began walking again. To my utter annoyance, the car crept forward, keeping pace with my strides.
“Ouch, okay, the silent treatment. I guess I deserve that.” I heard the sound of light laugher. “But why don’t you ignore me from inside the car? It’s warm and dry in here and I can tell you’re freezing.”
I cast a glance over my shoulder at him, trying to see if he was serious.
“I mean it, get in. I’ll give you a ride home,” he volunteered. “It’s the least I can do.”
I drew to a stop, considering his offer with raised brows. It was another half hour walk until I’d reach the hospital, and I was turning into a human popsicle with each passing minute. A glance up at the heavy clouds overhead assured that the rain wouldn’t be letting up any time soon. I didn’t want to accept a ride from him, but I also didn’t want be out in the cold anymore. And, if I wanted to make it to see Jamie at all today, it was my best option.
With a martyred sigh, I reached out and grasped the door handle. Yanking it open, I smirked as I settled my sopping wet jeans onto his pristine tan leather seats. Prince Sebastian over there would probably have a conniption if Iruined his flawless interior. I set my backpack on the floor by my feet, crossed my arms over my chest, and looked up at him defiantly.
To my surprise, he didn’t look even mildly fazed by moisture that was currently causing irreparable damage to his seats. His expression was open, friendly even. I quirked one eyebrow at him, wanting to ask what the heck he was staring at.
“Sebastian Covington,” he prompted, holding out his hand for me to shake. Or maybe kiss. You never knew when it came to rich people and their weird rules of etiquette.
“I know who you are,” I muttered, clicking my seatbelt into place and turning to face the windshield so I wouldn’t stare at him. He was beautiful – easily prettier than most of the girls in our grade. His cheekbones were prominent, offsetting a pair of stunning green-gold eyes that seemed altogether too honest and warm to be genuine. They set me on edge, those fathomless eyes – the sincerity they conveyed seemed to me like a mask, put in place so no one would look too close or see the secrets they guarded. His jawline was so chiseled it was almost ridiculous. He was even better looking up close than from across a classroom – that realization made my stomach churn with nausea and brought an unstoppable flush to my cheeks.
“Not gonna return the favor?” he asked me, nodding down at his hand, which was still hanging outstretched in the air between us.
“Do you always feel the need to torture your victims with chit-chat after nearly running them down in the street?” I asked quietly, watching the rain droplets trickle in slow paths down the windshield.
“Fine, common courtesy be damned.” Sebastian laughed, shifting the car into drive. “But it’s all right, you don’t have to tell me. I already know your name, Lux.”
Thathad my attention. I swiveled my head around to look at him.
“Ah, now I’ve intrigued you.” He smiled over at me. “Relax, I’m not a stalker. You’re in my Latin class right?”
I nodded, my eyes still narrowed on him.
“Kind of hard to miss a name like ‘Lux,’” he pointed out, shrugging. “Especially in Latin.”
I didn’t respond, and he fell silent. We drove for about five minutes, the rain falling on the windshield in a soothing patter that soon had me fighting off waves of drowsiness. I’d gotten only a few hours of sleep the night before, as I’d been up most of the night working a late shift at Minnie’s, the local diner where I picked up a few shifts each week. By the time I’d dragged myself home, it had been past midnight, and I’d still had two hours of homework to get through before finally collapsing into bed.
“Not a big talker, huh?”
My eyes, which were drooping down to half-mast, snapped back open at the sound of his voice. “Sorry to disappoint,” Imumbled, moving my hands up and down to rub warmth back into my frozen arms.
“Oh, shit, I really am an asshole,” he muttered, reaching forward to flip on the heat. Hot air exploded out ofthe vents, immediately warming me. Before I knew what was happening, he’d pulled off onto the shoulder, put the car in park, and was shrugging out of his tan cable knit sweater, leaving only a thin t-shirt on his torso. “Here,” he said, offering the sweater to me.
“Oh, no.” I blushed, staring at the garment with wide eyes. “That’s not necessary, really.”
“Just take the damn sweater, ” he ordered, clearly not used to being toldno. “You’re shivering.”
I nodded, meeting his eyes fully for the first time as I reached hesitantly across the console to take the sweater. His gaze was intent as it moved over my face, studying my features as though I were a puzzle he wanted to solve.
I turned away, stripped off my waterlogged jacket and tossed it on top of my backpack, leaving me in a damp black t-shirt that was plastered to my torso like a second skin. Leaning back in my seat, I glanced over at him and caught him blatantly staring at my chest.
Boys were so predictable — and apparently boobs were boobs, regardless of social class boundaries.
Rolling my eyes, I smiled at the thought as I slipped his sweater over my head. It was still warm from his body, and it smelled like him – a heady masculine cocktail of aftershave and expensive cologne. Automatically, I inhaled deeply, committing his scent to memory. His cologne probably cost more than I made all week working at the diner, and I would’ve resented that fact on principle had it not smelled so goddamn good.
Plus, he’d given me his sweater. I was bitchy, but not unreasonable.