Part 2 (2/2)
”Oh, I mean, except for your stupid group of friends who follow you around like dogs.”
”Hey, I don't give a f.u.c.k about them. I was talking about the girls, actually.”
Groan! His reputation is known in this school, and the one the next county over.
Chance Hudson has slept with more girls than ten men will in their lifetimes, they say.
Chance Hudson has slept with half the female staff, they say.
I doubt these rumors are even true. It's just simply not possible.
And anyway, I don't even care. It's disgusting. He's a dog.
”You're a dog,” I say. ”You're disgusting.”
He grins. ”I am, aren't I?”
”You're proud of it?”
He thinks for a moment, brown eyebrows pinching together like two caterpillars meeting.
”Never really thought about it that way. It's just what I do. Come on,” he says, getting up off the bench. ”Let's go.”
”Excuse me?”
”I'll give you a ride. You know you want one.” He doesn't even smile, he just plays it straight.
”Wow,” I say, shaking my head. ”Really? Seriously? No thanks.”
”The bus isn't due for an hour. You know that right?”
”An hour?”
”Didn't check the timetable?”
”Shut up.”
”Well I know you can either sit out here for an hour, or I can drive you home.”
”Why would I get into a car with you?”
”Come on, Ca.s.s, are you really asking me that question? Why does anybody get into a car with me?” He extends his arm, all lean and muscular, but I just ignore it. He really is such a pig.
”You're so wrong, you know, with how you approach everything. You can't talk to people this way. You've got a one-track mind.”
”This one-track mind is about to give you a free lift home.”
”No, this one-track mind is about to p.i.s.s off.”
”Are you sure?” he says. ”Don't worry, I may be a dog, but I won't bite.”
I don't want to wait for an hour.
”Don't try anything,” I say, pointing at him while I get to my feet.
He puts his hands up. ”You've got a pretty inflated opinion of yourself.”
”Just shut up, okay? Just, try not to talk. Where's your car?”
”So you do want a ride?”
I narrow my eyes at him. ”Where's your car?”
”Alright, alright,” he says, falling into step with me. My shoulder rubs against his, but I pull away. Still, it leaves my heart beating quicker.
”Over here,” he says, and we walk a little ways down the street. There I see what looks like a sports car. Not just a sports car, but a real boy's car, too. It's ugly as h.e.l.l.
”Mazda RX-8,” he says.
”I really don't care about your car.”
”Well, to be fair, muscle was always my thing, but this was a prize. I can't really complain.”
”You won a sports car?” I cry, flabbergasted. ”How?”
”My under-eighteen amateur MMA tour through Asia.” He shrugs. ”Corners well.”
”Your insurance must be insane.”
He unlocks the car, opens the door for me, and then puts out a hand.
”What?” I ask.
”Give me your s.h.i.+t.” When he sees my expression, he says, ”I'm not going to f.u.c.king steal it, Ca.s.s. I'm just going to put it in the back seat.”
It's not... 'my s.h.i.+t'.
Chapter Three.
It's so hot in the car.
If Chance knew what I was thinking, he'd probably think it was because of him, but it's definitely not.
That's what I would tell him, anyway.