Addicted

Chapter 7.

"So why are you picking me up?" I asked, when Zac began to drive home.

"Emmett was tired, and I was awake, so I offered to come," Zac said. His hair was a little bit of a mess and he was wearing his grey trackpants and a plain white shirt.

"I need to start looking for cars..." I said to myself, looking out the window.

"Speaking of cars, what kind of car is this?" I said looking around the car. "It's not a Chevrolet Camaro or Corvette..." I said pondering.

He snapped his head towards me, and I watched as his smile began to grow.

"What?" I asked.

"How the hell do you know about cars?" He asked, his face looked shocked and he kept looking back and forth from the road to me.

"I grew up with three brothers," I shrugged.

"It's a Chevrolet Chevelle," He smiled.

"So close," I snapped my fingers in front of me.

"What year is it? It can't be the early sixties, maybe late sixties?" I asked, still looking around.

He began nodding his head with a half smirk on his face. 

"1967," he confirmed my suspicions.

"Yes!" I cheered which made him laugh.

He leaned his hand over then and pinched the top of my thigh high boots.

"These are cute," he half smirked again.

"Cute?" I laughed and pushed his hand away. I wasn't really aiming for cute. I was aiming for sexy, aiming for extra tips in my jar kind of sexy.

"What?" He asked.

"I wasn't really aiming for 'cute', but thanks," I rolled my eyes. He looked down at my boots for a moment and then his eyes wandered up.

"What were you aiming for?" he asked.

I looked at him with my eyes wide open, an all telling look.

"I wanted to get tips," I shrugged.

"And did you?"

"Yes," I said. "Great tips actually."

"Great tips from James." 

"Shut up," I rolled my eyes again and looked out the window.

"Okay then, you look better than cute," he says with his eyes on the road.

"Don't just say that to make me feel better." I kept my head facing towards the window, so he couldn't see the blush I felt heating its way up my neck, but I could still feel his eyes on me which sent a heat searing towards my lower stomach.

He didn't respond, so I looked towards him only to catch his head turning away, keeping his gaze firmly on the road as if I didn't catch him staring.

I studied his profile in the silence, acutely aware that he knew I was looking at him. It was unfair how handsome he was even from his profile. I continued to study his masculine features, deciding that the bump at the bridge of his nose was my second favourite thing about his appearance besides his hands...

"How was your day today?" I asked to try and keep him talking. I liked talking to him. He somehow made me feel comfortable and nervous at the same time.

"It was fine," he smiled. "How was yours?"

"It was good." I began nodding my head, continuing  to appreciating his side profile. Dark stubble shadowed his jaw, and I imagined my fingers running up his jaw, feeling the sharp prickles against my palms, against my cheek, between my legs-