Page 46 of The Devils They Are
My heart jerks when I spot her purple hair emerge, laughing freely with the chief fireman's son, before she waves goodbye and crosses the parking lot.
She gets closer, and just as she pushes her key into the lock barrel, I jump up from the other side.
"Jesus, Rylan!" she squeaks, stumbling back. "What the hell?"
"Sorry," I say sheepishly, offering a small smile. Her bright green eyes glare at me from across the hood, but slowly, they soften.
"I'm in desperate need of caffeine. You can't just scare me like that," she muses.
I raise an eyebrow, lips fighting back a smirk. "I scare you?"
"Very funny," she snaps playfully. "You know I'm not afraid of you."
Leaning against the hood, I strum my fingers along the paint. "I figured you might like your gym shorts back before class tomorrow."
That's a pathetic lie. But it's the best excuse I can come up with on the spot.
Bexley snorts in amusement. "You can keep them," she laughs. "Yours are way more comfortable."
"You like wearing my shorts?" I tease.
She stills before folding her arms. "Are you trying to start shit again?"
"Maybe."
Shaking her head, she unlocks the truck, slipping inside. I watch through the window, happily surprised when she leans over and unlocks the passenger door for me.
I quickly slink inside, leaning back against the old, torn seat. "How about you take these instead?" I say, hating how loud my voice sounds inside the cab now. But if I don't do it now, I'll probably chicken out. Reaching into my bag, I pull out a pair of brand-new Willowbrook gym shorts.
Bexley frowns, flipping over the clear plastic package that's still in my hands. "How did you guess my size?" she asks suspiciously, checking the tag.
"I just went up two sizes from the current shorts," I admit. "I figured you'd want a little room to move around."
"I—," she pauses, brows tugging together. "I'll pay you back."
There's an uncomfortable edge to her voice, one that makes me feel odd. But I swallow it, ignoring the strange feelings. "No need. I didn't pay for them," I lie.
Her eyes switch with uncertainty between the shorts and my face. "Why?"
It's easy to tell that she's not asking about my payment of them, rather, the gesture. Shrugging, I force a look of indifference over my face. "Even though we agreed to a truce, I can't have you wearing my shorts in gym tomorrow. What kind of message would that send?"
I wait for some snarky or witty response, but she just relaxes in her seat, laying the shorts in her lap. "Thank you, Rylan," she says sincerely. "That was really nice of you."
My hand rubs the back of my neck nervously. "It's fine. Just gotta save face."
Bexley starts up the truck, the whole damn thing shaking. I go to exit, taking it as a sign of her dismissal, but she laughs softly, the sound giving me goosebumps.
"Buckle up, Astor."
Chapter seventeen
Bexley
Imustbelosingmy mind. That would be the only reasonable explanation for what I'm doing. No, seriously… I might need a shrink.
Rylan glances over the front of my house, brows together, intrigued, as I ascend the front steps onto the porch.
"I'll grab your shorts," I tell him, watching as his eyes light up in astonishment. "You can come in if you like."
