ExtraOrdinary

12 | bridget

12 | bridget

My car sounds like a duck's quack on a sped-up loop. I groan and let my head fall back onto the headrest. I remove my key from the ignition, wait five seconds, and try again.

It quacks in high-speed until something catches and it rumbles. I release a sigh of relief. Before my car can crap out on me, I take off for school.

When I arrive fifteen minutes earlier than usual, I chuckle uneasily—I'd sped the entire way here, not even coming to a complete stop at the stop signs for fear my car wouldn't take off again. I went ten miles over the speed limit at the train tracks and white-knuckled the steering wheel at red lights.

But my baby made it. Bag flung over my shoulder and keys still in my hand, I lay my head on the hood of my car. I pet it, saying, "Please get me home today. Please. That's all I ask."

With a sigh, I shove my keys into my bag and stalk into the school, hands in my pocket.

Arriving fifteen minutes earlier than normal, I walk through near-empty hallways. Senior hall has maybe three people in it. I trade out my books and sink down to the floor. With nothing else to do, I work on my math homework (which I may have completely forgotten to do last night).

A pair of green shoes pause before me. I keep my eyes on the textbook on the floor and read the next problem, pencil tapping the notebook on my lap. But a voice says, "Which math are you in?" and I have to turn my gaze from my homework.

Chance Olson leans over me, a heart-stopping smile on his heart-stopping face. I scowl.

"Why?" I ask, tempted to shut my textbook so he can't look in it.

He chuckles and squats in front of me. I hate his thighs. "Just making polite conversation, vastly uninteresting."

I inwardly gag. "Please don't make polite conversation, Chance Olson."

He arches a brow, smirking. "Should I make impolite conversation, then?"

"Knock yourself out." I shrug a shoulder.

His smirk morphs into a grin as he plops down before me, arms on his knees. "Alright. Do you ever wash that jacket?"

"Never. Want me to smother you with it?"

He laughs. "Careful, doe-eyes. You don't want to threaten the wrong people."

"Then I'm safe, I suppose." I flash him a teasing smile.

He tilts his head. "Implying I'm the right people?"

"I'm not implying anything." I grin. "I'm outright saying that you're the right person to threaten."

His green eyes twinkle, and his smile goes crooked, and my lady-bits react.

I have to look away.

"There are worse things I could be."

I open my mouth to respond but a voice calls, "Bridget, have you seen—"

Over Chance's shoulder, I spot Adelaide freeze, eyes wide and mouth gaping. With a sigh, I pile my books and struggle to stand. I walk over to her as Chance straightens as well, tucking his hands in his pockets.

"Hi," Chance says, flashing her the same heart-stopping smile. "I'm Chance Olson."

She makes a sound similar to my car's engine trying too hard and manages, "Ade—"