“You’re full of shit, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, totally. But please take me anyway,” I whine, running a hand through my wavy brown hair.
“Are you sure she’s related to you?” He asks Rae, before her chuckle travels over the line.
“Yo, hockey boy! You knowI’mthe funny one, right?”
“Watch it, Lockheart,” he growls.
This is not going in the right direction.
“I’ll wash your dirty hockey gear!” I blurt in a shit effort to persuade him. The thought alone makes me gag, but I can’t waste this opportunity.
“Deal,” he booms.
“YES!” I shout, making the taxi driver startle behind the wheel.
“Are you sure?” Rae questions her boyfriend cautiously.
The driver parks the cab in front of the airport, and I jump out.
“Yes, yes, he’s sure! Thank you so, so much! You won’t regret it!” I squeal way too loud for five-thirty in the morning.
“I doubt that,” Jensen mumbles. “We’ll see you when you get here.”
“Yeah, about that,” I drawl, carefully. “Can one of you pick me up from the airport?”
Another groan from the hockey player drums in my ear. “When?”
“In five hours,” I respond innocently.
“For fuck’s sake, Kayla. You’re already making me regret this. I have stuff to do, you know?”
“I’m sorry! I kinda left in a hurry. Took the first flight I could get.”
He stays silent, but I can just sense the ‘why’lingering over the line, trailing along with his muffled footsteps.
“Am I still on speaker phone?” I take my suitcase, slip the driver a twenty and make my way into the terminal.
I register a door closing over the rolling sound of my trolley pulled behind me.
“No, Rae is in the kitchen. What’s really going on, Kayla?”
“I told you,” I huff as the heater above the sliding doors blows through my strands. “I got kicked out. Stanford doesn’t accept shitty grades.”
“You can try to fool Rae, Kayla. She might even play along but you can’t bullshit a bullshitter. I’m a politician’s son, remember? I’m raised to detect bullshit.”
I hold still, my gaze on the terminal caught between night and day. The buzz of the day is not quite there yet, but the peace and quiet of the night is slowly fading under the brew of fresh coffee hovering through the atmosphere.
“I can’t, Jensen,” I admit in full honesty.
I don’t want to drag this out. I don’t want to make this bigger than it has to be.
I just fucking want to move on with my life.
Jensen will not let me move on with all the right intentions.
“Are you in trouble?” There’s a bit to his tone that splits my lips in gratitude.