she jumped into the passenger seat of Oliverâs black Jeep Grand Cherokee.
âWhat happened?â Oliver asked as he peeled out of the driveway.
âMy alarm clock didnât go off. I swear I set it for 7:05, but I think it mustâve been p.m. instead of a.m., âcause I was using it to sleep late over winter break . . .â
âThat is far too much information.â
âYou asked what happened.â
âYeah, but I donât really care,â Oliver said, which was the type of statement that contributed to his reputation for being an asshole. âI swear, Iâm just going to start leaving without you.â
Even when Oliver said ugly things like that, he was still really nice to look at. Today, he wore his red and black varsity basketball jersey over a white T-shirt. He was the starting shooting guard and the top scorer on the team, and yet somehow he managed to be even cockier off the court than he was on it.
âYou are not gonna leave me. Youâve been saying that all year.â
ââCause youâve been late all year,â Oliver said, rolling his eyes.
âWe both know this ten minute drive is the best part of your entire day.â
âPlease, donât flatter yourself,â Oliver jabbed back. âArenât there enough boys at school who will do that for you?â
Now it was Alexâs turn to roll her eyes. She was used to getting compliments, but she didnât care too much about them. They were mostly about the way she looked, and the infuriating truth was that she didnât actually do anything to look this way. She woke up like this. Literally. Four and a half minutes ago, she had still been in bed. Alex wasnât complainingâshe liked the way she lookedâbut she cared way more about what her track performance looked like than what she looked like. Sometimes it seemed like she was the only one who felt that way.
Alex put her foot up on the glove compartment so she could pull on her sneaker, a black New Balance running shoe. Then she reached for the second one, realizing it was a bright pink Nike cross-trainer instead of a match black one.
âOh damn.â
âWe donât have time to go back,â Oliver said, noticing the mismatch.
âUgh. I know,â Alex said as she pulled on the pink shoe. âWhatever. Iâll make it work.â
âKnowing you,â Oliver smirked, âyouâll probably start a new schoolwide fashion trend.â
âI donât think anyoneâs paying much attention to my shoes.â
âIâm paying attention,â Oliver said without missing a beat. âTo everything.â
It was statements like that one that managed to counterÂbalance Oliverâs reputation for being an assholeâand made him so crushable. If Oliver thought Alex got a lot of compliments, he should hear the way girls talked about him in the locker room. But Alex wasnât going to tell him that. Oliver had more than enough of an ego already, which was a shame, because if it werenât for that, Alex might have had an actual crush on him. She wouldâve been lying if she said she wasnât attracted to him, but that was more or less unavoidable, considering the way he looked and carried himself, all confidence and charm. All year, their morning car rides had been overflowing with sexual tension.
Alex glanced up at the rearview mirror and caught him staring at her. Most boys wouldâve been flustered and looked away quickly, but not Oliver. He kept staring, owning the moment. He had no fear.
Alex didnât have any fear either, but she wasnât interested in being pulled in any farther. Oliver had already succeeded in providing her with a fresh set of goose bumps.
Like it or not, they were completely out of her control.
  *  *  * Â
EMMA could not stop taking pictures of Nick . . . and his lips.
Sheâd taken
London Casey, Ana W. Fawkes