The Boy on the Bus

Chapter 4

Once we get settled in the car I watch him practically inhale his ice cream. I giggle while witnessing him plow it down.

When hearing me, he turns over, a glare spreading across his face before taking his last bite. He forgets to wipe off a small drop of melted ice cream from his upper lip, so I grab my own napkin and lean my arm over to dab it off. As my hand reaches his lip, he stiffens. I wipe it away, and while do so he shoots me a look that makes want to jump his bones.

I can't help but allow my eyes to focus on his lips during the process, and I reluctantly pull away when it is all wiped off.

I slouch back into my chair and begin to eat my own ice cream, as if nothing has just happened. But after the incident, Vincent hasn't stopped touching his lip slightly at every red light.

"Hey Vince, where are we going now?" I prop my elbow on the arm rest and face him.

"It's late, we should get you home," he answers flatly.

"Well then you can drop me off at Kate's, I told my aunt wouldn't be at home tonight," I reply promptly while giving him her cross streets and house number , but I can't help but feel disheartened at the idea of saying bye to Vincent.

"You're staying with your aunt?" He raises an eyebrow as he glances over skeptically.

"Uhm yeah, just for a while," I lie swiftly, not really knowing why I didn't just say the truth. I don't like the pity looks I receive every time I dwell into the story of what has happened to my parents.

To this, he just nods, but the look on his face tells me he doesn't believe me.

"So why do you take the bus if you clearly have other means of transportation?" I chuckle as I motion around his car.

"Is that a crime?" he responds in a ticked of manner telling me not to push the subject. It seems like everything I say manages to piss him off in one way or another; I truly don't think I've ever managed to make someone dislike me as much as he seems to. Once we reach another stoplight I take the time to notice his bare arms exposed where his t shirt cuts off. A tattoo of a design not clear to me is half shown and half covered by his clothing. Without thinking I reach my arm and brush my fingers along the ink. His arm goes rigid and I hear him inhale a sharp breath causing me to quickly recoil my touch.

"What is it?" I pick at my nails to try and hide my blushing cheeks.

"The design leads up to an eagle on my shoulder blade," he says with a bit less distaste than usual. I can't help but wonder if it symbolizes something but I'm not sure if Vincent is looking forward to having a deep talk about our feelings, rather, he more so seems eager to get rid of me. Before I even have the chance to act on my contemplation of asking him, an incoming call on his phone interrupts.

"What?" His mood deteriorates even further than before leading me to wonder who he must have such a cold shoulder towards.

"What the fuck, I can't just leave my shit to fix the mess you put yourself in," he huffs out in annoyance me hangs up with a slam of his phone.

"Look Thea I have to take care of something urgent but I need to go alone, I'll drop you off at this gas station to the right and wait inside for me, don't go anywhere, it's late. I'll be back soon," he orders and I simply nod while my mind becomes a forest of worries and questions entangling themselves like vines creeping up a tree. That tree is my brain at the moment. Completely and utterly surrounded by questions.