Page 59 of I Don't Need Your Love
He shakes his head, hiding a smile. “You’re such a mean captain.”
“Don’t mess with a girl and her chocolate.”
“Noted.”
We sit in silence. My shoe taps on the floor of the bus with every passing second. Why are my anxiety levels rising?
“Maybe a small piece,” I say as I unzip my backpack and shove my hand inside. Once my fingers close over the chocolate bar, I dig it out and realize that my hand is shaky.
“Wow, you must be super nervous about the performance,” he says, eyes pinned on my quaking hand.
“Yeah, the performance,” I say as I tear the wrapper and break off a piece. “I’m super nervous about that. No other reason. Because why would there be another reason?”
He eyes me for a moment before accepting the piece and taking a bite. “Mmm. Now that’s good chocolate.”
“I know my chocolate.”
“You definitely do, Captain. Another one of your amazing talents.”
My face flushes again. I turn my head away so he won’t see.
We’re quiet as we chew our chocolate. Again, the silence between us causes me anxiety. But I don’t want him to leave.
“I think I need to sit with you on every bus ride,” he says as he licks the chocolate off his fingers. “If you’re traveling with that kind of special goods? I’ll follow you like a lost puppy.”
“Do you have any manners at all?” I mutter as I reach for a few tissues from my backpack and hand them to him.
“Everyone knows chocolate tastes better when you lick it off your fingers.”
“That’s not true.”
“Yes it is.”
“No it’s not!”
“Are we arguing again? Why are we always arguing?”
“Because we don’t see eye to eye on anything.”
He’s quiet for a bit before saying, “I think we have more in common than you think.”
I turn my head to study him and find him staring at the spot before him. Then his eyes shift to me. He and I keep our gazes on each other for what feels like hours before I yank mine away and squeeze my fingers between my knees.
More time passes. It once again feels like an eternity, but I’m sure it’s only a few minutes.
“Ryder—”
“Carly, I—Oh, sorry. You go first.”
“No, you,” I say.
“I insist.”
“I insist more.”
“Ladies first,” he says.
“As if you’re a gentleman.”
