Secret Lucidity(98)

“I rode with Micah.”

He looks out over the water, and the silence that strings between us does nothing for the awkwardness, so I force myself to speak.

“How come you’re sitting over here all by yourself?”

“You say that as if solitude is a bad thing.”

“Just as long as you avoid hermit status,” I respond lightly, and I relax a little when he breaks a slight smile.

“You seem to be easing in quickly.”

I shrug.

“You don’t think so?”

“There’s nothing easy about moving halfway across the country from all my friends and family only to be the new kid.”

I shoot him a quick glance from the corner of my eye to see him looking at me.

“I’m impressed.”

“By?” I question.

“Your fakery,” he responds with a smirk. “And here I assumed your confidence only to find out it’s all an act.”

“Well . . . not all of it.”

“So, tell me, where’s home?”

“Texas.”

He gives an exaggerated nod. “That explains it.”

“Explains what?”

“The accent,” he says before adding with jest, “and the way you were inhaling that grilled cheese.”

I push my hand against his arm as he laughs. “So, you were spying on me?”

“That’s a stretch. You’re sitting out here in the open.”

His smile is infectious, and the uncertainty I was feeling is no longer present as I laugh right along with him.

“In my defense, and to appear slightly more on the delicate side, I only ate half of it.” His amusement drags on, and I change the focus off me when I ask, “What are you listening to anyway?” I grab one of his earbuds and am surprised when I hear a narrator. “What’s this?”

“The Metamorphosis.” He closes the app, pops the bud out of my ear, and sets his phone down.

“Why are you listening to an audio book?”

“Because I work and I don’t want to fall behind in this class.”

I refrain from mentioning that one of the houses he works at is mine.

“What class has you reading The Metamorphosis?”

“It’s an AP course.”

“Book nerd?”

“Far from it.” He chuckles. “Just thinking ahead.”

Going back to what Micah told me about Kason not living in a neighborhood that floods into the school we go to, and also the fact that I doubt many of the kids at the school hold down a job, my curiosity about Kason piques. I want to ask more, but I don’t. The last thing I need to do is butt in where I’m not wanted.

“I haven’t given much thought to college.” I instantly regret my words after hearing how flippant they sound when spoken aloud when he’s clearly given purposeful attention to what I haven’t. “That sounded trite. It isn’t that I don’t value—”

“You don’t sound trite.”

“Ady,” Micah calls as he and Trent walk over. “Do you mind riding back with Kason?”

“Where are you going?”

“Beach.”

“You’re ditching?”

“Brogan just called. He has the jet skis out at Clearwater,” Trent says. “Wanna come?”

Kason stands and shoves his phone into his pocket. “It’s her second day. She isn’t ditching with you two drones.”

“You good, Ady?”

I give Micah a nod and then take his hand when he reaches down to help me up. “Yeah. I’ll be fine. And Kason’s right. I can’t skip out on class.”

“Text me later if you wanna meet up after school.”

The two of them run off, leaving me behind with Kason, and my chest flutters at the thought of spending more alone time with him.

“We need to get going,” he says, and I follow alongside as he leads me to his car.

He walks over to an old muscle car, unlocks the passenger side door, and opens it for me. I shoot him a smile and slip in. His scent blends with the aged leather, and I can’t help myself when I take in a lungful.

When he’s behind the wheel, I buckle my seat belt. He works the pedal a few times before turning the key that brings the car to life.

“Is this a sixty-eight?” I ask, and his eyes dart over to mine in questioning surprise, to which I respond, “My dad used to take me to a lot of car shows when I was younger. It was kind of our thing.”

“Sixty-nine, actually.”

“Close enough.”

The engine rumbles, and I find myself sneaking glances his way, wishing for traffic to slow us down because I’m not quite ready to return to school yet. The way the muscles in his forearm constrict with every gear he shifts is mesmerizing. The littlest movement causes the biggest chemical reaction within me.

“You two still go?”

“Ever since my parents divorced, he’s sort of been doing his own thing.”

“How long ago did they divorce?”

“When I was thirteen. So, it’s been around four years,” I tell him without going into any detail of how my dad managed to almost entirely exclude me from the new life he’s created so effortlessly. “What about your parents? They still together?”