Going 78 Miles Per Hour | ✓

33 | Road Signs Support

It wasn't the type of cutting school where she would get disciplined if she ever gets caught—it was an academic extension program for students who have jobs. She had to give up one of her AP classes to take the opportunity, and she gladly turned in the slip to be considered.

I waited outside our last period together as she walked out, adjusting her backpack and shoving all the homework Auguste assigned us. It was something about classical literature and their evolution to today's culture.

"Peony," I approach her, slipping by her side. She looks up.

"Is that my flower for the day?" She said with a lopsided smile, zipping her backpack. My heart stops for a good damn second, and I almost lose my train of thought. She caught on.

I rolled my eyes. "You're leaving for work, right?"

"You know the routine," Dahlia said, throwing the straps over her shoulders. "I have to walk over to the bus stop before they leave me. That almost happened once."

I nod, following beside her as she makes a beeline to the front. This is quite the opposite of where I'm supposed to be heading, but I could care less. She wants to leave, and I only had a few minutes to talk to her.

"Peony," I grab her arm, causing her to stop in place. She turns to me, with innocent eyes, and waits for me to speak. The words lodge at my throat. "I—did you ever figure out that word?"

Fuck. That's not what I wanted to say.

I know she speaks Spanish and I know the language is a big part of her. This isn't the first time she couldn't articulate the word on the tip of her tongue and I know that fucking frustrates her. This time more than the last.

And I couldn't do anything about it. I don't know what she's saying and I know Google Translate could only get you so far. This is a part of Dahlia, and in order to know Dahlia, you have to know all sides of her.

So, safe to say, I want to learn what she's saying.

But how the fuck do I bring that up without sounding so fucking stupid?

"Um, no," she shakes her head, frowning at the mention. "But, what can I do? It is what it is. Too bad you don't know Spanish."

She laughs, trying to play it off casually but I knew she was a bit upset that I couldn't understand, or get the gist of what she was trying to say. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"What if—" My phone rings in my hand, causing me to cut my sentence short and glance down at the device. It was a short-lived call, probably a butt dial, before a message accompanied the name.

"Who's that?" Dahlia asks, peering over to take a glance at the name tag. I flipped the phone over for her to see. Her full lips part. "Oh," she gape, "your brother."

"He's not my brother," I scowl, reading the message he sent. "He's just saying how I need to be at dinner today and we can't have the car tonight."

"Wow, he's really making it out to sound like we're going to have sex in his car," Dahlia jokes, causing me to almost choke on my spit. I look up to the girl, innocent as can be, and she reads my shocked expression. "What? It was just a joke. Don't take it too seriously."

I don't say anything in return, just staring at her, and I could've sworn her cheeks turn a shade of pink under my gaze.

"Anyways," Dahlia said, looking over to the front door, breaking eye contact. "I have to go. I'm going to probably miss my bus if I don't run right now, and I don't want to get fired before I get my paid check. So..."