Page 6 of Bound to a Killer
“Nah, you’re fine. You’re probably expecting some guy dressed in a suit with a flashy watch on his wrist or something. Makes sense.”
A flush suffuses my cheeks, and I drop my gaze to the valleybetween my knees, my lips catching between my teeth.He said he has business there, you idiot, not that he works there.
I probably shouldn’t ask him any more questions. It’s not my place. My fingers start to pick at my knees, resisting the need to tug down my skirt to hide the patchy stubble on my legs.
The silence doesn’t last too long. We’re already pulling past the school’s blue and white marquee sign and into the parking lot, bypassing the rest of the parked cars and stopping right at the entrance.
I should feel relieved to be here, but for some reason, disappointment settles like wet sand in my diaphragm as the locks click open. While gathering my things, I glance at him one last time to say thank you, only to find him already looking at me. My breath shallows. “Thanks for the ride.”
His gaze glints with something I can’t quite place, but the intensity in them twists my stomach. “Be careful out there,” he says. “Don’t go accepting rides from strangers like this again.”
His words catch me off guard. I mumble something vague and scurry out before he can say more, not trusting my tongue not to betray me again with some offhand comment that might offend him or make me look like an idiot. Or both.
I can’t get my heart to stop pounding. It’s beating erratically as I break into a jog, pushing through a plume of white fog drifting across the steep concrete steps. I don’t stop to catch my breath until I reach the very top.
When I finally brave a glance back, he’s already reversed and pulling out of the same lot we came through. My eyes track his car until it disappears from view, the interaction already slipping into a memory.
Already gone, as if it never happened at all.
All that’s left is the thudding in my chest and the warmth still clinging to my cheeks.
2
ARIA
The lunch bell jars me out of my trance, its screech yanking me back to the present. I rise with the rest of the class, gathering my textbook and folders in my arms.
Remnants of this morning still cling to me, clouding my head, every thought circling the same problem—how I’m supposed to get through the week without a car. My mind drifts back to the guy in the leather jacket, my stomach tightening as I replay his last warning.
Be careful.
Don’t go accepting rides from strangers like this again.
It was reckless. Foolish, even. I can’t believe how easily I climbed into that car, without even a second thought. It could’ve gone so wrong. But walking everywhere isn’t a solution, either, not after freezing on the way to school and dreading the same for work. Between both, it feels impossible.
What the hell am I supposed to do?
I don’t even realize I’ve slipped back into that barrage of restless thoughts until familiar fingers, tipped in glossy cherry-red polish, snap beside me. The sound cuts through the noise in my head, pulling my focus back to her as we exit the room.
My brows knit as I glance over at my friend’s curious expression. “Sorry, I didn’t sleep well last night. What’d you say?”
She bumps her shoulder into mine, her corn-silk hair swishing behind her like it’s trying to eavesdrop on whatever secret is stewing in my head. “Okay,” she says, her eyes narrowing with a sly, almost knowing grin. “Spill. I wanna hear it.”
“Hear what?”
“Oh, come on, Aria.” She bats her lashes as we drift along with the herd of students piling into the noisy hallway, chatter ricocheting off the narrow walls. “You’ve been spacing out all day, won’t look me in the eye, and now you’re blushing.”
My heart takes flight. “I’m not…”
“You so are,” she teases, her finger pointed toward me. “See, it’s getting deeper. Who are you thinking about? Tell me.”
I open my mouth, then shut it again, shoulders lifting in a weak shrug. How can I even begin to explain this morning without sounding like I’ve lost my mind? Better to keep it to myself. For now. At some point, though, I’ll have to tell her about the missing car. I don’t want my silence to make her question our friendship.
I hover on the edge of saying something, but a body barrels between us, jolting me forward before the words can form.
“Hey, watch it,” Clara shouts at the freshman boy as he squeezes through.
Down the hall, a hand lifts above the crowd, the white glare overhead catching on Kelsey’s red hair, giving her away instantly. Clara raises her own hand in answer, signaling just a second before turning back to me.
