I let my smile widen and tell him mischievously, “If you keep this up, I might think that deep down, you’re actually… kind.”
His confusion clears and he smirks at me. “You better not go around telling people shit like that.”
I laugh, looking both ways before we cross the parking lot. “Don’t worry. I promise not to ruin your big, bad reputation.”
“You better not.”
His words are playful, but they unlock a few memories of things I’ve heard about him, things it’s a lot easier not to think about when we’re together.
He’s not a nice guy.
I don’t ignore that voice of caution in the back of my head, but it’s hard to entirely heed it when I look over and see him carrying groceries he bought for me to his car, the car he’s giving me a ride home in because he’s paying for the repairs on mine.
These are all really nice things to do, and what ulterior motive could he possibly have?
Maybe he really just likes me.
I guess it’s not so hard to believe. It’s not like I’m some ogre, and maybe he’s right—even if he was joking—about saving my life forging some kind of bond between us. I certainly didn’t feel it that night—he was too busy being an asshole—but when it’s just the two of us, he’s like a different person.
A person I like?
I shove the thought away because it doesn’t matter.
Dare is with Anae—even if it doesn’t seem like he even likes her very much. I don’t like her, but maybe that doesn’t mean he and I can’t be friends.
Friends?
I guess maybe we are becoming friends.
I don’t have time for friends, but with my stupid car being in the shop, it does give us an opportunity to get to know each other we wouldn’t have otherwise had. I don’t get the feeling friendship with Dare would be as much of a time commitment, either. He has tons of friends; he won’t wilt without my attention.
It could be kind of perfect.
Chapter ten
Aubrey
I stand on the curb in front of my house waiting for Dare to pick me up for school.
It feels strange waiting for him. Self-consciousness creeps up on me and I’m not sure why.
It’s a nice, warm day, so I decided to wear a skirt. I don’t have many skirts. I rarely wear them, so I’m not sure why I wanted to today, but I can’t stop tugging at it. The soft white fabric only extends to the edge of my fingertips if I lift my shoulders, so hopefully, no one bothers to check and see if I’m obeying the dress code. Faculty members never bother the rich kids, but sometimes if the less privileged students wear something that breaks the rules, they get sent home to change.
After what feels like a long time, Dare’s car finally pulls up in front of my house.
My heart jumps. I offer a little smile and pull my backpack strap tighter over my shoulder as I walk around to the other side. I check to make sure no cars are coming, then I open the door and quickly slide in.
“Hey,” I say in greeting, moving my heavy backpack to my lap.
Dare looks pleasantly surprised as his gaze rakes over what I’m wearing. My face heats. I’ve felt so stupid since the moment I put it on—the white skirt, the butter yellow cami top underneath, and then a white cardigan over it. I feel like a daisy, but he really seems to like it.
“You should wear more skirts,” he states.
My skin heats even more. “Oh. Thank you. I mean, that wasn’t a compliment, it was a…” I stop talking, mortified, and clear my throat. “I don’t have many skirts.”
Dare smirks, shifting out of park. “I’ll buy you some.”
I don’t take it as a real offer so I don’t bother telling him no thanks.
I didn’t think through the skirt. My backpack is heavy so I have to spread my legs like I did yesterday to get it on the floor, but when I do, Dare’s gaze gets caught on my bare legs.
I flush but pretend not to notice as I shove my bag to the floor and pull my seatbelt across my lap to secure it. “Thanks for the ride.”
His gaze still lingers on my legs. I fight the urge to tug at the material and pull it lower. That’ll just make it obvious I’m noticing.
Finally, his gaze lifts to meet mine. “No problem. Thanks for dolling up for me.”
My blood freezes in my veins. So does my face. I can’t believe he said that. “I… I didn’t.”
He smirks, shifting his attention back to the road. “Sure you didn’t.” He doesn’t give me long enough to muster a response before he goes on. “How’s your mom feeling today?”
I’m even more stunned he’s asking after my mom’s wellbeing than I am that he called me out on wearing a skirt for him. “She’s… tired.”