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    a loose rendering of a subject
     
     
    Around one a.m., I’m ready to leave. It’s been a fun, exhausting day. And I’d love nothing more than to crawl into bed and pass out for the rest of the weekend.
    “Hey,” I whisper to Tay. “Are you ready to head home?”
    Judging by the pout, she isn’t.
    “I’ll take you home,” Aidan ventures.
    “Do you mind?” she asks me.
    “Not at all.”
    We cross the yard. When we’re about halfway to the house, he boldly takes my hand in his, silently guiding me to his (expensive) SUV out front. Opening my door, he helps me into my seat.
    The ride home is clouded with heavy silence, an anxious energy saturating the air like static electricity, interrupted by the occasional drawn out breath.
    “Are you glad you’re home?” he finally asks.
    “Yeah. For the summer anyway.”
    “Oh? I didn’t know you were moving again.”
    “I’ve applied for a position at this gallery in New York. I’m supposed to have a face to face interview in August. The internship position will be open in September. The girl I’d be replacing said I was a top pick from the references my professor gave. I’m leaving in two months whether I get it or not. But I’m hoping for the former, not the latter.”
    I don’t mean to bombard him with all this information. I’m excited about my future, and I needed to let it out.
    “I hope for the latter, too.”
    “Are you planning on staying here?”
    “Not forever, but awhile.”
    Before I know it, we’re driving up the private road that leads to my house, the back tires kicking up dust behind us, red in the glow of his taillights.
    It isn’t smart to start anything when I intend to leave, but there’s a sliver of me that wants to spend time with him this summer. Even if it’s only as friends.
    The lights of my house kill the endless darkness of the thicket. When we reach the garden gate, he slows and shifts the truck into park, leaving the engine running. There’s only the sporadic light on inside, and I don’t see my mother’s car anywhere. She must still be gone.
    “I had a wonderful time with you today, Evie.”
    “Me, too. With you.”
    He regards my hand resting on the bench seat between us and covers it with his own.
    “Can I see you again?” he asks, his voice gentle. “We have a lot to talk about.”
    You have no idea.
    I hesitate answering him.
    How would his mother react if she found out?
    Do I really care?
    “I’d like that.” I mirror his tone.
    “I’m free tomorrow.”
    He doesn’t play games.
    “It’s a date,” I reply.
    He withdraws his hand, gets out, and walks around to my side to open my door for me. I set my hands on his shoulders as he assists me out, leaving them there once I’m steady on the ground. I rise onto the balls of my feet and kiss him on the cheek. Being a gentleman, he doesn’t attempt to turn his face to catch my lips.
    “Goodnight,” I whisper.
    “Goodnight.”
    When I reach the top step of the porch, I gander back over my shoulder. He’s watching me. With a wave and a smirk, he gets back into his truck and drives off.
    I’m about to enter the house, smiling to myself, when the crackle of wicker being manipulated with weight comes from my left. Bathed in the gentle light of the porch lamp, Holt’s golden copper eyes scrutinize me.
    Is that—jealousy?
    No.
    He must hate me for a reason. Well, the feelings mutual, bud. I’ve done nothing but try to be cordial to him, yet he rebuffs all my attempts. If it wasn’t for my mother, I would ignore him so hard.
    I notice a book in his hand, hanging upside down, with his fingers tucked between the pages to keep his place. I’m surprised he enjoys the company of books. I would have sworn a mongrel such as himself would be an illiterate.
    I squint at the turned around title...
     
    On The Road
    By Jack