Exotic

~ ride share ~

He took six minutes, not that I was counting. His car pulled up on the curb, the same beaten sedan I'd found myself scouring the school parking lot for more than once over the last fortnight. Caleb was in the front seat, one arm slung over the steering wheel and one hand in his hair. I unfolded my crossed legs and took one cautious step towards the car, half expecting him to flip me the bird and drive off the second I made a move towards him.

I leaned against the door, fumbling for the handle before dropping into the passenger seat with a groan. Caleb startled, and the look he gave me was unreadable, eyes wide, lips parted, a muscle visibly ticking away in his jaw. 

"Hey," he managed, shifting in his seat.

I combed my fingers through the long hair at my neck, bag clenched between my knees. "Expecting someone else?"

"Is that my hat?"

I took the brim and plucked it off my head, tossing it onto his lap. He lingered on it, twisting the brim in his hands before stuffing it gracelessly into the centre console. "Forgot I was wearing that."

Caleb indicated off the curb and dragged his focus to the road. "Weren't you working tonight?"

"I don't have a death wish," I informed him. "I don't get on public buses in heels with a face of makeup. Especially not on quiet nights."

"And Reece, right," Caleb added. "You don't want Reece to see you."

"Obviously."

We drove out of the city in relative silence. Caleb didn't offer a catalyst for conversation, and I was happy to sit back in my blissed-out state of inebriation. At some point, he turned on the radio. Nick Cave crooned out, singing slow and low about leaving a lover.

"Did anything happen?"

I rolled my head to the side to look at him. He was watching the road, but his eyes were softer than I was used to. His hair was unbrushed, sitting up in tufts. There was a slight red crease on his jaw from lying on something angular.

"To me?"

His shoulders hunched slightly. "It's Thursday."

"I've worked Thursdays before," I argued. "Even a Wednesday or two. It's not a big deal."

"Do you usually get shitfaced on Thursdays as well?" he asked, stone-faced.

"Ah," I hummed, drumming my fingers on my thighs. "More times than I'd be willing to admit. It's been a long week."

We rolled to a stop at a traffic light, and he turned to me, face bathed in red light, "It's not to do with Monday is it?"

I frowned for a second, casting my mind back. After everything that had happened, Monday had become a blur, save one particular interaction. The interaction that haunted my dream, wet skin and heat, and the planes of Caleb's chest.

And of course, what had followed. Suddenly, a lot made sense.

"I get it," I bit back a harsh laugh. "So this is your repentance. This is you whipping yourself to feel better about letting Aidan slam my head into a locker."

Caleb ripped his eyes away, but his flushed skin gave him away. I felt bile rise in my throat but unlike last time, I wasn't inclined to swallow it down.

"Pull over," I said venomously, hand resting on the handle.

"Miles..."

"I said pull over," I stated, louder. Caleb slowed the car but didn't pull into the footpath. "I'm not playing into your martyr fantasies. You can't have it all. You can't be popular and hot and best friends with Aidan McCaffrey and be a nice guy as well. The universe has to maintain some equ-eaque-equalibian... balance. I don't care if it's all an act, while you are friends with him you are an enabler to everything he does to people like me... christ, pull over."