Page 49 of For The Record

@ZR789: @TMZ These aren’t even celebs. Do better

@OllieJames: @TMZ @ZR789 maybe not but they probably have more talent than most pop singers today

Chapter 23: Leo Perez

The taxi driver takes his sweet time getting to my house. Skye is sitting a seat away from me in the cab, and studiously not meeting my gaze. One hand rests on her lap, tugging the hem of her dress down towards her knees. Her dress doesn’t budge, sitting firmly at mid-thigh. Skye’s chin rests on her palm, head turned toward the window, long hair tumbling loosely over her shoulders. She pivots, as though feeling my eyes on her.

“What are you looking at?” she asks, tilting her chin upwards, this half-defiant, half-teasing look in her brown eyes.

“Why are you so far away?” I gesture toward the middle seat between us.

She pats the middle seat, abandoning her futile attempt to lengthen the hem of her dress. It inches up a little more, and she crosses her legs, revealing a mole on the side of her knee. “This is not a seat.”

“No?” I raise an eyebrow. “You could sit on it. That’s what makes it a seat.”

“By that definition,” she says slowly, “your lap would be a seat.”

“Would you like it to be one?” I raise a brow.

Skye makes a choking noise before eking out a strangled, “No.”

“Sounds convincing,” I say, reaching for her hand that’s still on the seat.

She rolls her shoulders back, as though trying to persuade herself of something important but difficult. “I have an early morning tomorrow.”

“So do I. Want to carpool?” I say, wondering if I’m pushing my limits with her. Even if I am, part of me doesn’t want to stop.

“But everyone would know…” She waves her free hand, the one I’m not holding, as though to encompass some vague thing between us that can’t be put into words. I don’t want it to be vague. I want it to be clear as day what we’re doing together.

“Everyone already knows,” I say. “Everyone who was at the party, at least.”

“They know that you really like giving money away,” Skye says softly before she yawns. “And that you were doing it for a good cause.”

“I wasn’t doing it for charity,” I say. “I was doing it for you.”

The taxi passes a streetlight, bathing her face in a temporary, artificial glow before plunging us both into darkness once more.

“You want to be with me, as in boyfriend-girlfriend, commitment, all that jazz,” she says, fixing her eyes on the back of the cab driver’s head. “Is that what you’re saying?”

“Going steady, the whole nine yards,” I say.Do people still say that?

“No one says going steady anymore.” She confirms my self-conscious suspicions, a teasing grin on her face as she turns to look at me.

“Fine, then. Skye Holland, will you be my girlfriend?”

She cocks her head to one side before leaning onto my shoulder. “Mm, you know what, I’ll have to think about it.” Skye shuts her eyes and taps a finger on her chin as though in deep thought. “I’ve pondered this weighty question and my answer is… Yes.”

The car lurches to a stop before I can fully respond. “We’ve arrived at your destination, sir.”

I pull a few bills from my wallet, pressing them into his hand. They must be more than a reasonable amount to cover the fare as well as tips because the driver gets out and opens the door for us.

Not even waiting for him to speed off or for us to reach the porch, I pull Skye close, her body flush against mine. She looks up, that same coy grin on her face. “I’m not sleeping with you.”

“Who said anything about falling asleep?” I rest my hands on the dip of her waist. “I definitely didn’t.”

“I need a drink,” she blurts out, before looking down at her feet. “Oh, crap.”

We both stare down at her bare feet, toenails painted orange. She left her flip-flops in the cab. “You want to go back for them?”

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