Page 3 of The Odds of Happily Ever After
I glanced at him. Even though he annoyed me, I couldn’t ignore that he’d taken the time and made the effort to pick me up. Also, he was the reason I got to travel to California with my sister. So I swallowed my pride and said, “Thank you for picking me up. You seriously didn’t have to, but I appreciate it.”
He grunted. “You’re welcome.”
“I’m still surprised you came. Here I thought you’d go out of your way to avoid being seen alone with me.”
“Thankfully, this is far enough from Sterling, and no one should be able to tell you’re a student at the school I teach at.”
“If I was wearing one of our college shirts, would you still insist on giving me a ride?”
He looked straight ahead. “Good thing you’re not.”
“Guess it’s lucky I don’t have one.”
I thought the conversation would end there since he’d never been the type for talking, but he shocked me by asking, “Not fashionable enough?”
I snorted. “Not cheap enough.”
“Don’t you have an employee discount at the store?”
“Yeah, but new clothes aren’t in my budget right now.” Not when I had bills and groceries to worry about. I narrowed my eyes at him, anticipating his response. “Icanbe practical, you know.”
“Good.”
A minute passed. When he didn’t say anything more, I sighed. “God, you’re such a grump.”
No reply.
Knowing it annoyed him when I talked too much, I pressed on. “You could have come in disguise. Like a cap and shades, distressed jeans—that kind of thing.”
He raised an eyebrow at me. “And that wouldn’t look suspicious at all.”
Now that he mentioned it, he was right. Gabe, a.k.a. Professor Martins, had a uniform—plain shirt, crisp trousers, casual jacket, and leather shoes. Any deviation would set off alarm bells. I’d known him over a year and had never seen him switch things up other than going without his jacket, as he did now. He was predictable, but I couldn’t deny he had style.
“Do you even own jeans?” I wondered out loud as I followed him to his sleek, slate-gray sedan.
Without a word, Gabe popped the trunk and loaded my suitcase inside, his biceps flexing under his white button-up shirt. Then he rounded the car, opened the passenger door, and waited for me to settle in before closing the door.
When we were both buckled in, he spared me a look. “This doesn’t change anything.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
“You’re Tala’s sister, so of course I’ll check in on you,” he said, using Ate’s given name. “But we’re not friends.”
Heat crept up the back of my neck. “Excuseme. I never asked you to check in on me. I never asked you to be my friend either.”
“So long as that’s clear.”
I glared at him. “Why did you even come here when you obviously don’t like me?”
“I told you. Because you’re Tala’s sister.”
“What is that, your motto?” Even though I’d already guessed that was his motivation, it didn’t sting any less to hear it. It was every girl’s dream for a guy to admit he only did you a favor because of someone else. My anger deflated, replaced by the familiar feeling of insecurity. “Don’t worry, I’ll tell Ate you did your duty.”
“Luna.”
I hated this version of my name even more because this time, it was weighed with the worst emotion.Pity.
Screw it.
