Annabeth Neverending Read Free

caught staring is enough to make my cheeks redden.
    “Why waste time?” I say good - naturedly.
    “You’re a firecracker. Should’ve guessed that from the hair.”
    My red — auburn — hair is the bane of my existence, so any references to it immediately land you on my shit list. But Gabriel gets a pass. This time.
    “It’s funny; you weren’t at all what I pictured,” I disclose.
    “Interesting. And have I exceeded your expectations?” he asks leadingly.
    “In that I expected an old codger.”
    “Well, I am a college man. I go to Bowdoin.”
    I can’t deny that I’m impressed. Bowdoin is a big deal around here. It’s hard to get into and even harder to graduate from. And the campus? Well, it’s like something from a period - piece coming - of - age movie. With social houses and buildings on the registry of historic places and an eccentric polar bear mascot because a world - famous arctic explorer was an alum, well, Bowdoin is for scholars, not your average student. And Gabriel seems like an early - decision kind of guy.
    “Nice. The Harvard of Brunswick.”
    “I like to think that Harvard is the Bowdoin of Cambridge,” he states matter - of - factly.
    I laugh.
    “Hey! I wasn’t joking.”
    Gabriel’s just close enough to make me feel self - conscious. He shifts in his seat, and I catch a whiff of his cologne. It gives him an air of manliness. High - school guys don’t generally wear cologne. I’m happy if they wear deodorant.
    “What’s your major?” I ask, though part of me doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing I care.
    “Archaeology.”
    He takes one hand off the steering wheel and fusses with his black horn - rimmed glasses. I’m guessing they’re vintage. After all, a young Indiana Jones type wouldn’t buy his specs at Target.
    “So you aren’t old, but you love old things.”
    “Yeah, I guess I do. Most of the time,” he says, arching an eyebrow for effect.
    I can tell that my face has turned completely crimson.
    “How old are you, anyway?”
    “Fifteen,” I confess, uneasy.
    “Whoa! I didn’t think you were that young. You seem so…mature for your age.”
    “That’s because I’m practically sixteen. How old are you?” I ask, hoping he isn’t in his twenties because I’d feel even more overwhelmed than I already do.
    “I’m seventeen. I might’ve skipped a grade or two,” he says, gloating ever so slightly.
    “I live up here,” I say, motioning ahead.
    Gabriel pulls in front of my house. I’m grateful it’s getting too dark for him to see just how dilapidated it’s become, thanks to bills for exhaustive sleep studies that insurance chose not to cover.
    He turns off the ignition and looks at me intently. Even though I’m sitting down, I can tell that my knees have gone rubbery, weak.
    “Thanks for the ride,” I mumble.
    Gabriel swipes his hands through his thick hair, parting it like it’s the Black Sea. He pauses momentarily and grows serious. “Are you sure you’re all right?” he asks.
    I nod, trying to look certain even though I couldn’t be less so. Our eyes meet, but neither of us looks away. Finally, I give up on the little game of chicken we’re playing and unlock the door.
    “Not so fast. Just how you are you planning to pay me back for my good deed?”
    “So that’s how this works, huh? You’re quite an opportunist. Taking advantage of a pitiful girl who’s practically unconscious,” I say, before pushing my lip out in a pout.
    “I take it when I can get it.”
    “You, Gabriel — to use a college word — are a cad.”
    “If you say so.” He smirks.
    I’m not sure what irks me more: that he used my least favorite expression or that he looked so adorable while saying it.

    I walk into the foyer and find my parents taking their jackets out of the closet. I keep my distance, not wanting to draw too much attention to myself. Obviously Mrs. Lansing didn’t sell me out, or they’d have pounced on me the second I entered