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My head whips toward him.
“What? Why?”
“For work.”
“Oh, you don’t have to do that.”
“I know, but that’s what I’m here for.” He shrugs, a sleepy look falling over him as he relaxes back into his seat.
I scoff, “Oh, is that all?” I laugh and roll my eyes, only to look over and realize just how flirty that sounded when I see his eyes heat and hold mine.
“Not if you don’t want it to be.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck. Abort.
The sirens start blaring in my head and I know I need to douse those flames right away before he spontaneously combusts or something. I am not equipped for this. I never read this part of the best friend’s handbook.
“Oh, uh… well, I guess I better get in there and hit the hay,” I say, hooking a thumb over my shoulder in the direction of my house.
“Yeah,” he agrees softly. “Take some aspirin before you go to bed. You don’t want to wake up with sore muscles.”
“I’ll do that,” I say, popping the handle on the door and shoving it open. “Thanks for your help tonight, San.”
“Always,” he smiles, and as much as it hurts, I return it.
This really sucks, because I just want my best friend, and I feel like I can’t have him anymore. Not the way I need him, anyway.
“I’ll see you in the morning.”
I hop out and turn to look back at him, head resting back on his seat, facing me, features soft and relaxed. When my stomach flutters, I swallow hard. No one has ever looked at me like that before, but I don’t want him to be the one doing it, either.
“Good night, K. Sweet dreams.”
“Yeah, you too.” I pull my lips in tightly and force a smile before closing his door and backing away up the driveway.
He doesn’t pull away until I step inside the house. I lock and bolt the door before falling back against it.
What the hell am I going to do?
Chapter 9
My head is pounding the next morning as the tension in my neck climbs up and over my skull, settling in behind my eyes. I squeeze them shut, pressing my thumb and middle finger against my temples in a last-ditch effort to alleviate the dull throbbing.
I should have taken something before I came in this morning, and now it’s too late. I’ll just have to deal with it a little while longer. There’s no way I’m bothering to ask if my dad has anything. That will only further fuel his rage.
“When the hell are you gonna grow up?” My dad shouts, pacing his office, and now red in the face.
To say that he didn’t take the news of my accident well, would be an understatement. He hasn’t even bothered to ask yet if I’m all right. Hell, he didn’t even question the wellbeing of the other driver since I didn’t even receive a ticket for it. No ticket indicates no trouble, but to my dad, for me to have even had the cops involved means that I’ve fucked up entirely. He’s ridiculous.
“You know, I was thinking about two years from next Tuesday, but who knows… that could change.”
He slams his open palm down on the table. “Damn it, Bodhi. This isn’t a laughing matter.”
I grit my teeth, the loud slapping sound bouncing around inside my aching head, only making matters worse.
“I’m not laughing,” I say, stretching my neck from one side to the other.
“Do you even care that you’re jeopardizing your career?”
