don't wanna rush | oscar diaz

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Claudia jumps when she sees him. Oscar tries to grin but it feels  like a grimace, but then she glances at him from under her eyelashes  like she's trying to be slick and it turns into a real grin.

"Hey,"  he says, leaning real heavy on the locker next to hers. Tries not to  preen when she smiles, just a little. She looks good, in light-colored  pants and a collared tee. He tries not to remember what she looked like  in the backseat of his car the day before. Now's not the time to  reminisce. "You busy?"

"School just let out," she says, mouth curving upwards.

"Pues," he says, and loses his train of thought when she smiles for real, "uh."

She bites her lip. "Qué querés?"

There  are a lot of ways he can answer that question. Shit she might smack him  over. Mostly he wants to have her close, again. Sitting next to him in  the car, maybe, or just walking around Freeridge like they do,  sometimes, when she's trying to avoid home and he doesn't have Santos  business. Except maybe she'll let him hold her hand, or kiss her again,  or tuck her under his arm. He thinks she'll fit there perfectly, wants a  chance to prove himself right.

He clears his throat, says, "You need a ride home?" and she tilts her head.

"Yeah," she says, "I do."

He nods. Says, "I can drive you."

"I figured," she says, slowly, "be kinda shitty for you to ask and then just dip."

He  laughs a little. Rubs the back of his neck, straightening when she  closes her locker. He doesn't bother stopping at his all that often,  doesn't get called on in class as is. Sometimes a teacher will try to  catch him off guard but he's smart enough to get it right, usually. That  won't be too much of a problem, anymore, though.

"Thought you were done with this," she says as they walk towards his car.

He's trying to figure out how to hold her hand. If she'd like that, or just let him. "Whatchu mean?"

"Ayer..."  she starts, falls quiet. Looks at him curiously when he opens the car  door for her, like he hasn't been doing that since he got it over the  summer. "You said you were dropping out."

"Yeah."

"So why you here?"

"Had  to pick up the paperwork," he says, shrugging, and shuts the door for  her after she climbs in. Says, once he's in the driver's seat, "I'll be  around 'til that shit's gone through, I guess."

"Hm," she says, and tucks some hair behind her ear.

She  lives closer to the school than he does, and them talking the whole  time makes the ride seem even shorter. He pulls up a few houses down,  like he usually does. He might not have tats like most of the older  Santos, but that doesn't mean he doesn't look a little bit like one.  Most of them keep their hair shorter, sure, a zero or a one, but he  rocks the pulled up socks, the Dickies. It's hard to look at him and not  know what he's up to.

Claudia doesn't even move to unbuckle.  Sucks on her lips, just a little, like she's trying to figure out what  to say. Oscar watches her like it's the last time he'll ever see her;  can't help himself.

He says, "You getting out?"

"Ugh," she says, and smiles at him. Genuine. "You busy today?"

"Nah," he says. Hands still on the steering wheel no matter how bad he wants to reach out. "You tryna kick it?"

"Yeah," she says, "'s Friday, right? Might as well."

"You acting like you be at home all week," he says, and her gaze flits away from him. Something like embarrassment on her face.