Page 20 of I Would Stay Forever
“Because I’m giving you a ride home.” He turned to the left and started walking deeper into the parking lot, leaving me behind once again. I would have told him that no, he wasn’t driving me home, except that he’d already stolen my other modeof transportation and the food, which was the only reason I was at the mall in the first place.
I jogged after him again, because his legs were ridiculously long and he could walk fast even while balancing my bike and the food. I caught up to him as he was opening the trunk of his car.
“You’ve stepped up from pickpocketing into thievery,” I commented as I watched him stick the bike in his trunk. I was pretty sure Dean didn’t have his own car, so he must have been borrowing one of his parent’s. If I wasn’t sure about that, the little sticker on the rear window of a stick family would have confirmed it for me.
“I’m just being neighborly,” Dean responded. He finally got the bike to fit, with the bag of food nestled in beside it, and stepped back to close the trunk. “It’s not my fault you don’t appreciate it.”
“Odd way to describe kidnapping.”
“It’s only kidnapping if I force you into the car.” He turned to look at me as he stretched his arms overhead, giving me a perfect view of where his shirt rose above his trousers, showing off the waistband of his boxers and a small strip of his stomach. “You’re not required to come with me.
“Well, you took away my only other way of getting home,” I said, crossing my arms. “It’s not actually a choice if you’ve taken away every other option.”
“You still have plenty of other options.”
“Name one.”
“Well, for starters, you could walk.”
I scoffed. “That would take, like, two hours.”
“Or call your brother to pick you up.”
“Great idea, I’ll interrupt his breakup so he can help after his best friend abandoned me.”
Dean grinned, his eyes almost sparkling. “Of course, the best option would be to accept my offer and catch a ride with me.”
I glanced at his car, my will to argue about this diminishing with every passing second. There really wasn’t any other option—walking was off the table, calling Sebastian would just delay us both, and I couldn’t bring myself to pay for a taxi when Dean was willing to drive me for free. But at the same time, how could I say yes?
Could I sit next to Dean through a 20-minute drive without spiraling? Without remembering that night in July or the way that he talked to me under the bleachers or even the embarrassment of this morning? It seemed like every time I saw Dean nowadays, I just embarrassed myself further. And for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why he kept wanting to see me again and again. He had no reason to offer me a ride today. He was under no obligation, especially when I told him that I didn’t need one. Why was he being so insistent?
Dean didn’t wait around for me to make my decision. He walked to the passenger side door and opened it, looking at me expectantly. Part of me wanted to say no just to spite him, but I knew that I didn’t really have another choice. So I walked over and got inside. He shut the door behind me, then circled around to his own side and got in as well. Neither of us said a word as he pulled out of the parking space. But once we were on the road, he used one hand to grab his phone and toss it in my direction.
“Put on some music,” he said. “My passcode is 1103.”
I typed it in, smiling a little when I realized half his passcode was my jersey number. I was sure it was a total coincidence, probably some date or the letters spelled something out, but I thought it was cute nonetheless.
I opened the Spotify app. Most of his playlists were pretty basic: gym playlist, run playlist, school playlist. So I just selected one at random and turned it on, desperate to fill the silence inthe car. This was good anyway. If there was music playing, then there was less reason for us to talk and therefore fewer ways for me to embarrass myself.
And against all odds, I made it home unscathed. Dean made some idle chitchat—mainly about our history project and when we would have time to work on it—but aside from that, we mostly listened to music. And it was oddly… comfortable. Not the suffocating kind of silence where you’re desperate to get out of there, but the kind where you’re just happy to sit in somebody else’s presence, whether you’re talking or not. It was bizarre to feel that with Dean.
I’d only ever felt it once before—when I was sitting on his back porch on the worst night of my life.
“To hell with her,” Sebastian said, holding up his glass. Ainsley, Imogen, and I all followed suit, clinking our wine glasses filled with soda against his. We’d all piled into the basement lounge where the biggest TV was and grabbed as many blankets and pillows as would fit onto the couches so we could watch the film. As I expected, Sebastian had happily conceded to Ainsley and Imogen’s film choice, although I was sure he was just as happy with it because they’d gone forJurassic Park. The only rule about break-up party films was no rom-coms, because otherwise Sebastian would yell at the TV about how love didn’t exist.
“As if you won’t be back together by the end of the weekend,” Imogen teased.
“I won’t!” Sebastian insisted. We all laughed and took sips of our drinks, but Sebastian kept shaking his head. “I’m telling you, she and I are over for good. We even talked about it.”
“Yeah, yeah, keep telling yourself that,” Ainsley said.
Sebastian’s gaze flicked to me. “Lavender believes me, don’t you?”
“Well…” I dragged the word out, wishing I could back him up but knowing there was almost zero chance of them staying broken up. I’d seen this instance too many times before to be able to believe it.
Ainsley and Imogen laughed loudly while Sebastian threw a packaged biscuit at me. I just stuck my tongue out at him and put the biscuit on my plate. If he was going to throw it at me anyway, then it was mine now.
“I’m going to prove you all wrong,” he announced loudly. “You’ll see.”
