Page 256 of Filthy Elites

I know I can’t go back there. I never should have been there in the first place. Logically, I know I don’t belong in Dare’s world, and I certainly don’t belong in his arms.

I thank him for the ride as I open the door to climb out, but I feel a little uncertain about things since I did sort of reject him.

“You’re still picking me up tomorrow, right?”

“Of course.”

Relief floods me. Because he doesn’t seem to hate me, or because I have a ride to school? I don’t know, maybe both.

Whatever the case, I’m glad I’ll see him tomorrow once this awkwardness has passed and my brain isn’t swimming in rum.

TWELVE

Aubrey

I’m wearingblack jeans and a long-sleeved, mauve top when Dare pulls up in front of my house this morning.

My stupid heart is so happy to see him.

I ignore it as I climb into his matte black Audi, not struggling to get my bag in the floor today while maintaining my modesty since I wore jeans.

Dare’s gaze still lingers on my legs as if they’re bare, then slides to my face in that deliberate way of his. “Good morning.”

“Hey,” I say back, grabbing the seat belt and pulling it across my body.

He waits for me to secure it, then he shifts the car into drive and we’re off.

It’s a little chilly this morning, so the windows are rolled up. Not like yesterday.

Once I sobered up, the whole of yesterday started to seem batshit crazy. Kissing someone else’s boyfriend in the ocean? I couldn’t describe a scene less characteristic of something I would do if I actively tried.

I’m hesitant to blame it on the alcohol, but I did drink a lot of it.

Thankfully, it’s a short ride to school, but it feels longer today with an invisible third passenger.

Awkwardness.

Oh, how I hate it.

When he pulls into his spot and turns off the engine, part of me regrets wasting our last car ride together not talking.

A small, shameful part of me also hoped things would go much differently. I know it’s insane because we’re just getting to know each other, but since he seems not to even like Anae… I don’t know, some part of me hoped maybe he would be playful and comfortable when I got in the car this morning, and when I wondered why he didn’t feel as awkward about it as I did, he would tell me he broke up with her. Notfor me, necessarily, but because after some soul-searching, he realized he wouldn’t even be kissing some other girl on his private beach if he actually liked the one he was with.

None of that happens.

The discomfort doesn’t seem to bother him.

Before we get out, he finally says, “Since I imagine I won’t be seeing you at lunch today, the shop said your car would be done by two. I told them to deliver it to my parking spot so you’d know where to find it.”

“Oh. But we’reinyour parking spot.”

“Just dropping you off,” he tells me. “I’ll park somewhere else today.”

“That’s really nice of you. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” he says. “If my car gets scratched, I’m blaming you, though.”

I crack a smile at the return of playfulness to his tone. “That’s fair.”

---