I rest my head against one of the lockers and force myself to face the truth I’ve been dodging ever since Steve showed up.
I don’t want to spend time with him because I’m scared.
What if he doesn’t like me? I mean, he left my mom. Whatever she had wasn’t enough to keep him, and Maggie Harper was an angel—beautiful, sweet, and kind.
And then there’s me… Prickly and difficult to get along with, not to mention foul-mouthed and set in my ways at the ripe old age of seventeen. I’m bound to say something that embarrasses me and offends him.
But no matter how badly I want to hide in these poison-infested halls, Steve is waiting and I’ve got two choices. Stay and meet him, or run and lose Reed.
And if those are my only choices, there’s really no decision to make.
I point my feet toward the lobby and start walking.
13
Ella
When I walk up, Steve is waiting in the lobby with his hands in his pockets, reading the bulletin board notices.
“This place hasn’t changed much,” he tells me as I approach.
My forehead creases in confusion. “You went here?”
“You didn’t know?”
“No. I didn’t think Astor Park was that old.”
A wry smile lifts the corners of his mouth. “Are you calling me old?”
My cheeks heat up. “No. I just meant—”
“I’m only teasing. I think the first class graduated in the thirties? So yeah, this place is old.” He takes his hands out of his pockets before facing me full on. “You ready to go?”
My spine stiffens. “Why?”
“Why what?” Steve looks confused.
“Why are you taking me out of classes?”
“Because you can’t hide behind Beringer like you do Callum and his boys.”
I can’t hide the surprise that leaps across my face. And Steve is perceptive enough to notice.
He smiles. “Thought I didn’t notice you were avoiding me?”
“I don’t know you.” And I’m scared. Too many things are out of my control. I’m used to being in charge. For as long as I can remember, Mom relied on me to pay the bills, shop for groceries, get myself to school.
“That’s why I’m taking you out for the day. Let’s go.” This time his smile is laced with steel.
That’s me, I realize with a jolt. My mom was soft. My dad? Not so much, I guess.
I follow him outside because I sense there’s no getting out of this. At the curb sits a low-slung sports car full of curves. I’ve never seen anything like it. Except for the color. It’s the exact shade as my own car—a patented color called Royal Blue, according to Callum.
The wonder must show in my face because Steve says, “Bugatti Chiron.”
“I have no idea what you just said,” I say matter-of-factly. “It sounds like a brand of spaghetti.”
With a chuckle, he holds the door open for me. “It’s a German car.” He runs his hand along the top of the roof. “Best in the world.”
He could be making all this up, and I wouldn’t know. I’m not a car person. I like the independence of having wheels, but even I can tell that this car is something special. The leather is softer than a baby’s bottom and the dials are shiny chrome.
“Is this a spaceship or a car?” I ask when Steve settles into the driver’s seat.
“Maybe both. It goes from zero to sixty in two-point-five seconds and has a max speed of two hundred and sixty-one miles per hour.” He flashes a boyish smile in my direction. “Are you the rare female who’s also a car enthusiast?”
“I’m offended for my gender. I bet there are lots of female car fans out there.” I buckle my seatbelt and offer a reluctant grin in return. “I’m not one of them, though.”
“Too bad. I could let you drive it.”
“No thanks. I actually don’t like to drive all that much.”
Steve mock-glares at me. “Are you sure you’re my daughter?”
Not really.
Out loud, I say, “DNA says I am.”
“That it does,” he murmurs.
An awkward silence hangs between us. I hate this. I just want to go back inside and attend my classes and make out with Reed during lunch period. Hell, I’d rather exchange insults with Jordan right now than sit here with Steve.
My father.
“So what should we do today?” he finally asks.
I toy with the strap of my seatbelt. “You don’t have something planned?” Then why did you pull me out of school? I want to shout.
“I thought I would leave it up to you. Ladies’ choice.”
This lady chooses to go back to class.
But I have to remind myself that continuing to avoid Steve isn’t going to make this awkwardness go away. Might as well face it head on.
“How about the pier?” I suggest, naming the first place that pops into my head. It’s November, so it’ll be too cold to sit outside, but maybe we could go for a quick walk or something. I’m pretty sure I brought some gloves.