Page 2 of Rush
"I know."
Her mouth curves but it's not quite a smile—something sharper. "Let me guess, my dad asked someone to babysit me."
"Just making sure you get to your car safely."
"I've been getting to my car safely for months without help."
"Now you've got help."
She tilts her head and studies me. Her eyes are dark brown and they miss nothing. "Are you always this chatty?"
"Pretty much."
"Good to know." She pushes past me toward the door, and I catch her scent—vanilla and coconut. My jaw tightens.
I follow her outside into the cold Dublin night.
The parking lot's half full as she walks to a small blue Honda near the back. I track every shadow, every movement, every sound.
Two guys are smoking near a bike on the far side—harmless. A car pulls out onto the street, taillights disappearing into the darkness. It’s perfectly normal and safe.
She stops at her car and turns to face me. "Are you going to follow me home too?"
"No."
"Good, because that would be creepy."
"Just doing my job."
"Your job is to walk me to my car?"
"My job is to make sure you're safe."
She unlocks her door but doesn't get in, just leans against it and crosses her arms. "And what happens if I'm not safe? What exactly are you going to do about it?"
The question's a challenge and I know it. She's testing me.
"Whatever I need to."
"That's vague."
"It's accurate."
She laughs, and the sound does something to my chest I don't like. "You're interesting, Rush."
"I'm not trying to be."
"I know—that's what makes you interesting." She gets in her car and starts the engine, then she rolls down the window. "See you around."
"Yeah."
I watch her drive away and I don't move until her taillights disappear completely.
Then I get on my bike and I ride home, my hands tight on the grips.
I should not be thinking about her—should not be replaying the way she said my name or the way she looked at me like she could see right through my bullshit.
But I am.
