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"I'm not sure that's all it is," she mumbles barely loud enough for me to hear.
"And what's that supposed to mean?" I shoot back, crossing my arms over my chest. I'm not sure why I'm getting so defensive over Kyle.
"It's just that...it's...I don't know...he was watching you," she manages to get out. "He was playing with your hair, and it just looked...too comfortable to me."
I run a tired hand over my face. "He was messing with Audra. It didn't have anything to do with me."
"Please," Mom pleads, "just promise me you'll be careful."
I choose not to respond. There's no reason for me to be careful. I'm not interested in Kyle as anything other than a driving instructor.
At least, I wasn't.
I'm not.
No, definitely not.
I pick up my fork, stab into the food Mom ordered and take a bite. It's not horrible, but definitely not a cheeseburger with no pickles from Bruce's.
My cell phone chimes while I choke down the food, my body protesting the whole time.
I'm not surprised to see it's Kyle interrupting my lunch. Seems like he uses any opportunity he can to annoy me these days.
Driving lesson tomorrow at 9?
It's supposed to snow tonight, I reply.
And? He instantly responds.
And I don't want to practice in the snow.
Too bad. See you tomorrow.
OK asswipe.
I like your hair, by the way.
What?
Your haircut.
I glance around the restaurant, searching for him. He has to be close by.
My phone chimes.
Out the window dummy.
I turn and instantly see him, leaning against a building across the square, casually dressed in jeans and a black snow jacket. He looks...good. Well, he always looks good. But it's the way his whole body is angled in my direction, one foot propped up on the wall behind him, as if he's been watching me for a while. Exhilaration washes over me. But I ignore it, shove the feeling aside, remind myself who he is and why I can't let myself go there.
Stop stalking me.
You're the one following me to Boulder.
Still haven't gotten a letter in the mail yet.
Check your email. They probably sent you one already.
I'm afraid to.
