Page 6 of Melt His Heart

I think about telling him it’s really ok and I could just walk or call a ride, but I can literally feel the fatigue down to my bones. Today was hard enough. I don’t want to think about this or anything else, for that matter. I just want to lie down. Besides, if I’m going to get into a stranger’s car, I’d rather it be a stranger I at least have stalked on the internet about twenty times.

And it’s free.

“Sure. I guess, thanks.” Carson smiles triumphantly.

“Nice, I was sure you’d say hell no.” He laughs, and I like the way it sounds so much. Have I ever liked someone’s laugh?

Ugh, it’s almost annoying to even think about this right now.

I nervously go to grab my bag, my breath hitching when we reach for it at the same time, and our fingers brush.

“Let me,” he says softly, the words coming out way more intimately than they actually are. Than I’m sure he intended.

“Oh. You don’t have to, it’s fine, you probably have your own gear to carry.”

“Julian, I packed my stuff away in the car already. Let me get your bag, please?” He chuckles, holding his hand out. I contemplate just walking off towards the exit, to the car, but I hand him the bag and look away sheepishly.

“Fine. Thank you.” I say, biting my bottom lip.

I’ve competed in front of thousands of onlookers, and this is where I feel shy, under one man’s gaze. And because he wants to carry my things for me. I need to get serious.

“Damn, it sounds like you’re being held at gunpoint when you say thank you.” He laughs at me rolling my eyes.

* * *

We head out into the parking lot. I pull my hoodie over my body a little tighter; the air is starting to get just a bit chilly at night. We reach the car and, of course, it’s really nice. A black, sleek BMW. Definitely suits his personality, or what I know of it. He opens the door for me and rounds the car to put my things in the back before getting into the driver’s seat.

I fasten my seat belt and send him my address to put in the navigation as we set off.

“Let me know if you want to listen to anything.”

“It’s a short ride from here, so I’m ok with whatever you’re listening to,” I say softly, looking out the window.

“Cool,” he says, turning on his own music. I look over to him, my brows pinched, “Britney Spears?”

“Hey, hey now, don’t judge, I mostly listen to rnb.” He grins, “But I love a little Britney after practice.”

“I mean, I suppose.” I chuckle, shaking my head.

The neighborhood is going by so fast, which means this ride is going by fast. I don’t know how I feel about that. I’m enjoying Carson’s humming to his Britney playlist; some of these songs I haven’t heard in years.

We’re quiet for a bit before he cuts through the silence, “So I noticed you have a little accent.”

“Is that a question?” I snicker, and he laughs, showing me a beaming smile while we’re at a red light.

“You’re so feisty. I’m just curious.” He chuckles.

Curious about me?

For what? Is what I want to say, but I’m too busy thinking about how I’ve decided I definitely hate the way that makes me feel. The fact that it seems like he’s always wondering about me.

I like our stalking to be one-sided.

“Soo yeah, where’d you study?” He asks.

“I studied in England for a bit. There was a skating camp there.” I fiddle with my hands, my palms becoming damp with sweat. Being under his attention in this confined space is driving me a bit crazy.

“That’s so interesting. I don’t really think I ever hear any Koreans with British accents, it’s usually like Australian, you know.” His face scrunches up so cutely when he’s in wonder. God, what am I even thinking about right now?