Faster Than Your Bullets

Chapter 23

                   

Chapter 23

Drew did sleep on the lounge last night after complaining once again about his toothbrush after he cleaned his teeth twice. Yeah, twice, since apparently Coca-Cola is a "foul demon". I laughed at him about that, on which he had his revenge by stealing my comforter. He did return it at around midnight, though, for fear I would freeze to death.

Mrs. Duncan did not question about Drew presence on the lounge when she found him snoring as she was wandering down the kitchen at five in the morning. She did, however, woke him up. When I rose he had already gone home, but it was about fifteen minutes before the pickup truck horned in front of my house.

Gulping down the enormous glass of whatever it is Mrs. Duncan's fed me, I fling my bag over my shoulder then practically slam myself against the wooden front door in the effort of opening it. Drew's windows are rolled down. He has put on fresh clothes and flashes a grin at me, his eyes twinkle in well-humored manner.

"Eager to see me, aren't cha?" The deep laugh in his throat makes his accent even more British. I mock a sneer and roll my eyes.

"You wish, British shit."

"Still keep that name, I see?"

I shoot him a glance and an even wider grin appears on his face. "As long as you call me Andy."

The truck begins to move. I search my bag for a pencil and an unfinished piece of homework then begin to annoy the answer out if him. It is anything but hard to annoy Andrew Archer, with his bitchy attitude and temper. I squiggle down the answers on my pathetic assignment sheet, one legs cross over the other. From the corner of my eyes I can see Drew staring, but when I look up and meet his eyes, it isn't the thing in teen fictions when the male locks his gaze on his female in appreciation or admiration or whatever that shit is. Judgement is dominating his eyes color, if that is even possible, and the features on his face. As if he's deciding what kind of person I am.

I feel my face heating up gradually and attempt to crack a joke.

"Dude, I know I'm hella pretty, but if you keep staring then we're gonna crash."

He smirks and returns his eyes on the road, leaving me frowning, utterly confused.

"You know, you're gonna have to drive someday." He starts and I stick an accusing finger at him.

"You aren't gonna back out of our deal, are you?"

Producing a huffish sound that I would take as a laugh, he shakes his head. "No. Just thinking."

I cock my brow. "Oh, so boys do think."

Drew shoots me a glance that is flashing green. "Yeah we actually do." He adapts a mock thoughtful tone, sarcasm almost visually glowing behind his words. "It's crazy, isn't it?"

I snort and his laugh escapes, ringing in the air before his next words come out. "You're gonna need some serious driving lesson someday."

My eyes roll. "Hope it won't be from you."

The truck slows down as it reaches the school. Drew turns to me, his lips twitching. "You'll never know."

Unable to properly process what he's just said, I choose to ignore him and drive my focus back on the back in desperation of finishing it before class. So the progress of worming the answers out of Drew Archer begins again. Despite making a point on feeling used, he gives in anyway. I hop out of truck with the paper finished and set out to find Pamela, who I've figured to be apprehensive.