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“You could put me on there. I don’t mind.”
My head snaps up. “What? Are you sure?”
He nods.
“Yeah, just maybe don’t say anything to Justin about it. He’s being weird.”
I agree with that statement. “Thank you. That’s really nice.”
He grabs it from me and fills in his contact information. “Put that number in your phone, too. Don’t be worried about asking me for rides to work or anything. It really doesn’t bother me.”
25
Miles
Autumn:Am I riding with you?
I told her she was. I don’t regret it, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried about the close proximity.
It’s too late now, because I'm already on my way.
This party is supposed to be a thank you to the shop's clients, but my mom always gets carried away. There are always people she wants to impress. It’s more stressful than it’s worth in my opinion, but I don’t have the option to skip it. As of now, neither does Autumn.
Keeping my eyes on the road, I tap her contact and call her instead of texting back.
She picks up within seconds. “Yeah?”
“Do youwantto ride with me?”
She hesitates, not for very long, but I’m getting used to looking for these small details when it comes to her.
“I thought that was the plan, I just wanted to double check. You’re one of the only people that I know going to this thingand the idea of going alone absolutely terrifies me.” The way she says it so quickly, like the words are foregoing any filter, gives credence to what she says.
“Yeah, that’s the plan.” I’m already in the parking lot and stepping out of my car. “Just checking.”
When she opens her front door, the air escapes my lungs. She’s still in pajamas, which contrasts with her styled hair and makeup.
“You could have given me a heads up, I’m not even dressed yet!”
I give her a pointed once-over and watch the blush creep up her cheeks.
“You mean that’s not what you’re wearing?”
She grabs the center of her shirt, which happens to be a large red bobble on a cartoon Rudolph's face. “You know, maybe it should be. Amelia might appreciate the festive look.”
If only.
Autumn
It takes me a lot longer than it should to get dressed. My hands shake as a result of how much I am completely freaking out. I can’t get a grip of the tiny zipper on my back, and I question if I should just go with a different dress entirely. That would be easier than asking him for help.
A knock on my bedroom door makes me jump, and the zipper falls from my fingers yet again.
His eyes drop down to my dress when I open the door.
“I hate to rush, but my mom will—”
“Yeah, I know.”
