“Is that what you’re telling yourself?” I merge onto the highway, into the sea of traffic. Thankfully, it’s moving.
It’s been twelve weeks, and we still aren’t friends. It’s been twelve weeks, and we’re still business partners.
It’s been twelve weeks, and I’m bringing her home. Without her knowledge.
Thank goodness I’m Kenneth.
Kenneth is a gentleman.
Calypso
~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Is that what you’re telling yourself?” Lex asks.
Heat pours through my chest, and I try my best to remain calm, because that isexactlywhat I’m telling myself. This isn’t adatedate. It’s an excuse to get muffins. I never intended for it to be a date at all. He’s the one who used that language.
Fidgeting, I push up my glasses and mutter, “Of course. I’ve never been on a date before, so this can’t be one. It falls into my ten extra work hours. You’ve been generous in letting me live my life outside of mandatory school things.”
Lex’s lips rest in a permanent quirk. “Last I checked, I impose upon your bus-waiting time daily. That’s about forty minutes a day.”
“Three hours and twenty minutes isn’t close to ten.”
Lex nods. “You’re upset I went out for ice cream without you last week.”
I bristle. “I was upset that you were late, and we’re well past that now.”
“Right.” He speeds along on the highway, and I’m beginning to wonder how far away muffins are.
Is this place somewhere I can even hope to get to again within a reasonable time? Is it somewhere Mom and I can go on her next day off?
“We’re talking about how this isn’t a date.”
I flush.
“Because your heart belongs only to fictional characters, and, alas, I am real.”
Swallowing hard, I straighten in my seat, trying not to think about how it almost sounds like he’s at all interested in my heart. His constant flirting isn’t good for my nerves. “Exactly,” I note,nonchalant.
He huffs a sigh. “Man, I’m a great boss.”
Embracing the normal tone, I roll my eyes and shove away the way my heart is pounding and my stomach is swirling. “Best boss I’ve ever had.” Right. This is just our weird normal. There’s nothing more to it.
Or so I think. Before Lex pulls up to an iron gate positioned between two high stone walls.
My heart thunders as he puts in a passcode, the gates open, and he begins up an endless drive between topiaries just now facing the cold touch of late autumn.
A mansion comes into view after too long a time has been spent winding up the pristinely decorated hill. Several buildings surround the mammoth in the center, and Lex veers off toward the squattest one, which looks like a long flat box with garage doors. At the press of a button, those massive doors open, and a lane of probably twenty or more cars stretch out on the concrete.
Stunned speechless, I don’t say a word until the truck is tucked away in its spot and Lex is opening the door. “What?” I blurt.
“What?” he asks, looking in at me, a twisted little smirk plastered over his lips.
I stare at him like he’s grown spaghetti for hair. “Why are we at yourhouse?”
“This is where the muffins come from.”
“Huh?”
