Page 85 of Ignition

Was that his move?

Did I misread this that badly?

He walked a step behind me, equally silent, though his own thoughts brushed my back, radiating off him like smoke.

Excuses, probably.

I’d meant to hold my tongue. I really did.

But then he went and said, “Let me give you a ride,” and I whirled around—jaw aching, insides a warbled, ugly mess.

“No, thank you. I’ll manage… classmate,” I spat, mouth twisting into a cruel line.

“Mia, wait.” He made a move to grab my wrist, before thinking better of it and dropping his hand. “I just…”

“Just, what?”

He leaned against a dark sports car I assumed was his, though I wouldn’t put it past him to randomly take up space wherever he pleased, in that way of his.

“You wouldn’t understand.” He sighed. It came out as weary, not condescending, and that only sharpened my fury.

He ducked a hand into the breast pocket of his coat, pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a heavy silver lighter. It clicked on and the flame fizzled and caught, drawing a cherry-red tip, and though I didn’t smoke, I felt could use one, too.

“Try me,” I said, tone colder than a glacier splintering.

He flinched like I’d hit him, but I couldn’t find it in me to care, not when he’d eviscerated me with a casual sentence.

He took a deep pull that stretched forever, before blowing out the smoke in a plume that drifted upwards, mingling with his breath in the cool air. He watched it curl up for a moment.

My boot tapped an impatient war drum against the cobblestone, and I fought myself and the urge to say something scathing.

“My parents, they—I have things I need to do, things I can’t, if…” He gestured between us, looking my way at last.

“Oh, I see,” I ground out, eyes sharpening to hide the pain.

“No, you don’t.”

His hand clawed at his hair, and for a moment, the ice around my chest cracked at the turmoil on his face. “I need some time…”

His jaw shifted, the silence stretched, but he said no more.

His gaze poured into mine, and though I’d meant to say no, to snap something that would gut him, the words wouldn’t come.

Something inside me softened at the pained look on his face—whatever it was, it clearly weighed on him. Or maybe it was put on and I was that stupid, that gullible. I didn’t know, but I found myself nodding, more in concession than acceptance.

Before he could finish the cigarette, before he could say anything else—or worse, coax me into his car—the bus came into view.

A disproportionate bolt of relief shot through me.

I gave him a short, curt nod that drew a flash of pain across his face, turned on my heel and ran towards the bus stop, feeling like I was coming apart at the seams.

Chapter twenty-five

Mia

Need a little time, my ass .

The following days, I was so grateful Pri was on the “beautification committee,” as she called it, because I needed to drown my thoughts. And what better way than padding after her like a puppy, helping out with party decorations, and trying not to boil into a rage every time he flashed through my mind, every time my phone buzzed with yet another text I ignored.