My Girlfriend Bites (Young Adult Paranormal Werewolf Romance)

Chapter 6

Aiden

The large student parking lot bursts into action. Cars and trucks zoom through the wooden exit gates to escape from school. A line of cracked pavement traces my walk to Bree’s car. She’s not here, so I wait. I rub my palms and find sweat all over them. I wipe my hands on my pants to dry them. I try a few different looks to make it seem like I’m cool and relaxed when my stomach’s tight as a fist.

Pamela Osterhaus struts towards her yellow Honda, with two friends trailing her. She blows a fake kiss my way, and her friends crack up. My confidence takes a direct hit and takes on water. I’m not fooling anyone. The cutest girls in school laugh at me because they know I’m a joke.

Damn it. Now I can’t even fake being cool. Look at me. I’m a disaster in sneakers.

“What do you want?” Bree crosses her arms as she squints in the sunlight.

Where did she come from? I watched the double doors like a hawk and…guess it doesn’t matter. I suck in air and lift my chest.

Don’t fail. Don’t say the wrong thing. Don’t embarrass yourself. Don’t…just do everything perfectly, and don’t suck.

“Sorry if I embarrassed you in front of class today. I only touched your hair because…you know what? It’s, like, your hair and only you should enjoy touching it.”

I don’t know what I’m saying.

“I mean, I don’t enjoy touching your hair. I don’t like touching my own hair because I don’t wash it much.”

That’s information I don’t think she needs to hear.

“Only kidding. I do wash my hair because it gets really gross if I don’t.”

Nice. I’m a disaster.

“I guess…what I’m asking is…can I have a ride home?”

“No,” Bree says.

“But I missed the bus again.”

Her eyes trace the long, yellow line of idling busses over my shoulder.

“Sure about that?” she asks.

Damn it. I’m supposed to stretch this apology out. Seducing girls is tricky.

“I thought you would like some company?” I ask.

“I don’t.” Bree circles me and unlocks her car door.

“I’ll pay for gas and throw in a roast beef sandwich at your favorite convenience store.”

Bree slips behind the wheel and slams the door shut. She rolls down her window. “Still no.” Bree fires up the V-8. It’s too late. She’s leaving. Fail number two. I’m a loser. I will always be a loser.

No! Think of something, you idiot. Don’t let her leave.

The transmission clunks into reverse. I run behind the Oldsmobile right as the white lights shine on the tail lamps. Bree notices I’m blocking her way. She revs the big car and it sounds loud and dangerous.

“I don’t understand,” I yell over the racing engine. “I’m only asking for a ride. You acted like it was no big thing when you gave me one yesterday.”