Chapter23
Propose?
Avani
“Where is your car?”
I jump at that voice.
Spinning around, I find Grayson leaning against his car. I haven’t seen him in a week. And to say I haven’t been keeping an eye out to see if he showed up again would be an understatement.
Tonight though, I’ve had it.
Yesterday, my shitbox of a car decided to crap out because it’s an ass like that. And I’ve had to catch the bus and walk to work which is incredibly painful.
“I’m catching the bus.” I nod to the bus station where I’m standing.
“You? Catch a bus…interesting.”
“Not really that interesting,” I reply. Sitting on the bus terminal seat, I hear his footsteps come over and take the seat next to me.
“It’s late. Weird and dangerous people come out to play when it’s late.”
“I’m not scared of the bogeyman,” I tell him, and he tries to suppress his smirk at the use of his nickname.
“No, I guess you are not.”
“Why are you here?” Looking at his hand, I ask, “Did you propose?”
“No, I did not. I didn’t lie when I said I have no intentions of marrying her.”
“So why are you with her?” Just as I voice the question, I hear the bus approaching, so I stand, and he does as well. “Goodnight, Grayson,” I say, noting that he doesn’t answer my question.
I step onto the bus, pay, and take a seat. When I look out the window to catch one last glimpse of him, he is no longer there. As I’m staring out the glass, someone sits in the seat next to me, and I immediately know who it is.
“Why are you on the bus?” When he says nothing, I add, “Your car is right there,” and point outside.
“I know,” he answers.
“So why are you on the bus?” I repeat as the bus pulls away.
“Because you’re on the bus.” His words shock me. I don’t know if I should move away or say something.
“I’m capable of catching the bus by myself. I have been for a week.”
“A week?” he asks, confusion wrinkling his brow.
“Yes, a week,” I answer, not sure where this conversation is going.
“I’ll drive you from now on. Tell me your hours.”
“Absolutely not. I don’t need a man to protect me. I am doing just fine by myself.” Raising a brow at him, I give him my best fuck you smirk.
“Oh, how I’ve missed that sass,” he whispers, leaning in.
I pull away, not wanting him to kiss me.
Kissing him would mean a lot of things.