Page 40 of The Third Baseman

There were worse things to imagine.

I dug into my pocket for my iPod and earphones, stuck them in, and pounded my feet to the beat for the rest of the way to school while I was thinking about calculus and the challenge Professor Sureta had given us yesterday. He’d asked us to come up with an integral formula to solve the distance multiplied by the diminishing heat issues when delivering a pizza.

It was a hard one.

I’d planned to start it last night and then take a nap before the sky was at its best for viewing, but following the storm last weekend the sky had been much clearer than usual, and I’d been distracted... Hence no sleep and no homework completed – and the rush I was in.

I was so deep in thought about pizza, not to mention the music loud in my ears, that I didn’t immediately notice the vehicle driving beside me – or the hollering from the driver.

My breath caught slightly as I turned, and not in the same way it had when my mom scared the shit out of me when she’d been standing at the bottom of the stairs.

If it was possible, Jupiter Reeves was even cuter today than he’d been last week, especially with his cap turned backward. It somehow sharpened his cheekbones and highlighted the freckles spread across his face.

In fact, I hadn’t noticed before how similar his freckles were to the Milky Way. Probably because I’d never been close enough to him, but even in all the pictures of him posted around school they weren’t that visible.

It took me a second to realize his mouth was moving, and I needed to remove my headphones to hear him.

“Sorry, what did you say?”

“I was saying you need to pull your earphones out,” he grinned, which made a dimple pop in his cheek. “Honestly, Stars and Stripes, I’ve been following you for, like, three minutes. That must be good music.”

The familiar heat which lanced through me whenever I was put on the spot came back with full force, and I knew my cheeks were no longer my usual skin color.

I looked at my earphone, like it held all the answers. “Yeah, I guess.”

“What is it?”

“Coldplay.”

His lips rolled as he pondered it. “Coldplay, huh? Yeah, I could go for a bit of that this morning. Hop in.”

His head jerked sideways to the front passenger seat.

“What?”

“Stars and Stripes, get in the truck. I’m giving you a ride to school. You’ve already been in here once so I’m no longer a stranger,” he explained, like I was in remedial class. I hurried around before he asked again.

He pushed the door open just like he had last week, and I climbed in. Without making it too obvious, I took a deep breath and inhaled. It smelled just like it did before, not that it shouldn’t have, but I wanted to remember it better this time. It smelled like sunshine, and boys; some kind of deodorant – sporty – and it made my belly flutter.

Way better than how my brother smelled, that’s for sure.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied, looking at me expectantly.

I wiped my face in case there was still toothpaste round my mouth, or worse, banana waffle. “What?”

“Which Coldplay album are we listening to?”

I huffed a little smile of relief, and my heart immediately calmed. “Oh, I just had a mix on.”

“Okay,” he rolled his lips while fiddling with the buttons on his car stereo.

A second later, my hands shot up to cover my ears as Coldplay blasted out.

“Sorry,” he smirked, adjusting the volume to a less ear-bleeding level. “This good?”

The violin intro for Viva La Vida played out. “Yes, this is one of my favorites.”

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