Heart Breaking and Entering

8. special delivery

Drumming my fingers against the steering wheel of my Jeep, I waited for Macie to get out of Dance practice, checking the time for what felt like the fifth time in the past ten minutes.

Declan was parked in the row in front of mine, forcing me to avoid eye contact every time I looked up from my dashboard. Being two of the few cars left in the lot, I tried my best to keep my eyes low, ignoring his sly attempts to catch my gaze.

Come on, Macie, hurry up.

A part of me couldn't help myself.  I kept glancing up at the car, sneaking glimpses of its shiny black exterior gleaming in the sun behind him.  Leant up against it, he and a group of boys in lacrosse uniforms chatted amongst each other.  A smug grin graced the corners of his lips as he went on to make what sounded like an insensitive joke, earning laughter from the posse.

As if he could feel my stare, his forest eyes flickered over to mine.  They glinted in the light, asking for my approval, like it actually counted for something bigger than boosting his ego. 

He didn't actually care what I thought.  All he wanted was my attention, even if it meant getting pierced by the daggers in my hazel gaze.

It only made me angrier.  His stupid smirk, stupid friends, and disgustingly stupid sports car were ammunition to fuel my ever-growing hatred toward him. 

A group of dance team members greeted the boys, a couple of them peeling off toward their cars while others stood and chatted.  Brody Anderson seemed preoccupied with a pair of bubbly blonde twins while Declan sized up a tall redhead whose skirt rode a couple of inches too high to meet the prudish standards of the school's dress code.

She was pretty, I had to give her that.  But by the way she touched his arm when he made a sly remark and giggled at nearly his every syllable, I wasn't too impressed.  And judging how he barely cracked a grin her way, he wasn't either.

This was typical.  A cute girl would flirt with him, he'd entertain her for a little while, but the interaction was usually meaningless.  Even so, the fact he was running the risk of Macie spotting him--potentially ruining any chance he may have had to get her back--was what boiled my blood.

If I was going to get involved in his stupid little attempt to get my best friend back, he couldn't be pulling these old, retired shenanigans.  I wasn't sure if he was meant to make her jealous or not, but I wasn't going to let him try. 

To Dicklan: Stop flirting, you idiot.

A couple moments passed until he reached into his lacrosse uniform's pocket, furrowing his brow as he typed a response.

From Dicklan: I'm not, stalker.

I rolled my eyes, shaking my head.  As I began typing, Macie's blonde ponytail emerged from the building, her rosy cheeks sporting an oblivious smile at her phone on her way over to the parking lot. 

My grip tightened around the wheel.  All she had to do was look up and she'd see them. 

To Dicklan: Get in your car.  Now.

Declan's eyes flickered to his phone before shooting up at me, a mixture of confusion and challenge crossing his expression. 

I frantically pointed my fingers at the car, urging him to climb inside, but by the time it dawned on his face what I meant, it was already too late.

Macie's carefree smile slowly dropped as she took in the scene, her blue eyes flickering between her fellow dancer and Declan as she walked by.  He raised his hand in acknowledgement only to receive an incredulous scoff as she pushed past him and jogged over to my car.