Page 10 of The Last Special Thing

“She went out to get donuts yesterday,” Art offered.

Amelia furrowed her brows. Leaving for a glazed twist hardly counted as actually leaving.

Weston fished her keys out of his pocket and gave them to Amelia. She turned back toward the car, Art pivoting in step with her.

“You’re coming with me?” she asked, looking up at him, dark hair falling against his shirt.

“I am.” He didn’t offer an explanation.

She hmm’d as they started walking. The day was perfect for a holiday, and the sun warmed her exposed skin through the slit in her skirt and along the lines of her corset back. She hoped she wouldn’t be murdered by the pizza enthusiast on such a beautiful day. Her mind drifted to Lauren. She was sure her mom would disapprove of her letting a stranger into her car, but there was something about his confidence that drew her in.

He’d been with Max for a few days now. How long would it take living with someone to know if they were psychotic or sane?

“This place is packed,” Art observed as they navigated around a tight crowd.

“Oh yes, holidays are one of a kind here.” She realized that she had no idea where he was from.

Amelia pushed the key fob twice to unlock the car.

He whistled as her blinkers flashed. “This is yours?”

“Graduation present,” Amelia said offhandedly.

He gazed at the white BMW. “Man, all I got was $50 from my grandma.” He sauntered in front of her, opening the driver’s side door.

“Why, thank you.” Her eyes slid up to him as he closed her door. He let himself in on the passenger side. As Amelia pushed the button to start the car, the emo alternative music blasted out of the speakers.

“I’m so sorry.” Amelia laughed in embarrassment, reaching over to the speaker knob to turn it down. Before she could move it, Art threw his hand over hers on the volume knob, grinning wickedly as he sang the lyrics.

“You know Pierce the Veil?” Amelia asked, astonished. Most people she knew hated her taste in alternative music.

“Yep, saw them a couple of years ago at a dive bar in L.A.”

“What were you, ten?” she teased.

“Fifteen!” He placed his hand over his heart, feigning appalled.

She laughed and turned the volume down when his rendition came to a close.

“So, what’s your story?” She flipped on her blinker and turned left at the traffic signal.

“Just moved out here. I grew up a couple of hours to the east. I really wanted to be at the beach.”

“Max said he found you on social media,” Amelia ventured.

Art laughed. “Yeah, yeah, that’s true.”

“How do I know you’re not a killer?” she said, toeing the line between playful and concerned.

“You don’t.” He gave a wolf’s grin.

Art leaned back, stretching one arm across the seat. “Listen, I grew up with a 10 PM curfew in some bum fucked town. I’m sure you are more dangerous than I am.”

She laughed. “I’m killing time between now and when I start at UCLA in the fall.”

“No shit,” he said, turning toward her. “You’re going to Los Angeles?”

“Mhhm. Most of my family has gone there. I was accepted into their School of Theater, Film, and Television,” Amelia boasted.