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Resentment(73)

By:Nicole London


“Look, Mia,” I say. “Let me take you home.”

“Not interested.”

“Well, at least let me take you to the next bus stop.” I look up at the sky. The rain is only about to get worse,

“A four block ride? No thanks.”

“So, you’re really going to walk all the way home in the rain?”

“Yes,” she says. “Yes, I guess I really am going to walk all the way home in the rain. Thank you for your concern. Goodbye.”

Okay, that’s it.

I park my car and get out, walking over to her. Done arguing about this, I put my arm around her shoulder and lead her to my car, opening the passenger door.

“Get in, Mia.”

She hesitates for a moment, looking over at the streetlight, but then she quickly slips inside and I shut the door behind her.

I return to my place behind the wheel and drive through the light.

“Where do you live?” I ask, knowing the answer to this question already, but I’ll play like I don’t.

“The corner of Seventh and Broadway.”

“Okay.” I hold back a laugh and turn on the radio, not sure whether it’s a good or a bad thing that her indie band CD is blasting through my speakers or not. But then that familiar blush crosses her cheeks again, and either she’s been really good at keeping her expressions in check for along time or she’s having a severe allergic reaction today.

We don’t speak as I take the long way to her house, and I can feel tension building between us with every mile. And every so often, I catch her looking back at me as I look at her; her blush is now permanent.

As we approach Seventh and Broadway, I have to slow down to prevent myself form driving directly to her front door. “Mia, you do not live here. This is just the entrance to your subdivision.”

“So? Did you really think I would give you my real address? I’ll walk the rest of the way. The rain isn’t that bad now.”

Smiling, I speed up and drive down the street to an abandoned lot. It’s time for me to play my last hand, for me to give this one last try.

“What are you doing?” she asks. “Go back. Go back right now.”

“I need your help with AP English.”

“I need your help with learning directions. My neighborhood is back there.”

I ignore her and try to focus on making my lie as believable as possible. “AP English is the only class I don’t have an A in.”

“What? You make A’s?”

“Yes.” I don’t tell her that we’re practically tied for valedictorian. “I make A’s, except for English. I have a C plus and I need at least an A minus if I’m going to look appealing to colleges.”

“Wait a minute, what?” She looks confused. “You’re the star quarterback. You don’t need to make good grades to get an athletic scholarship. You just need to keep playing football. Isn’t that what you want?”

Her question catches me off guard and I almost slip. “I need you to help me with the literature components and help me strengthen some of my essays.”

“But why do you want me to help you?”

Because I fucking like you...

“Why wouldn’t I?” I ask. “You have the best grade in the class and I’m pretty sure that being a smart ass, which you clearly are, requires quite a few brain cells, so I figure there’s no one better to ask.”

“Maybe, but I’m not interested.”

JESUS! “I’ll pay you.”

She stares at me for a while, as if she’s trying to gage if I’m being real or not. “Is that how you normally get what you want?”

“No, that’s not my normal method, but I figured you wouldn’t go for that, so I’m not going to go down that road with you.” I can’t help but smile.

“My services don’t come cheap,” she says. “They’re very expensive.”

“Honestly, I’d be disappointed if they weren’t.”

“Then in that case, I’m sure you can’t afford me.”

“Try me.” I’ve prepared for this. No number she says can be too high. I crank the engine and drive, heading toward her neighborhood again.

“Twenty dollars an hour.” She finally gives a figure.

“Deal.” I’d predicted she’d ask for fifty.

“Deal? Just like that?”

“Why not?”

“Because that’s a lot of money.”

“I’m sure you’ll be worth every penny.”

“Fine. We’ll start in a couple weeks.”

I drive straight into her subdivision and look over at her, still playing dumb like her house isn’t 5632. “I’m not letting you out of the car until you tell me which of these houses is yours. I need to make sure you get home safely.”