Her Beautiful Innocence

23 | ᴅᴀᴛᴇ

Sophia's POV

Well, isn't this just my luck, I thought. 

I slowly and awkwardly turned around, still standing on the door mat in front of the house. "The, uh, door...it's stuck," I muttered sheepishly when I saw Grayson looking at me with a questioning expression. 

He frowned and stepped out of his car, coming up to where I was. I went to the side a little, giving him space. He twisted the knob, we only heard rattling, but the door didn't budge. 

We stood there for a few seconds, him thinking about what to do and me sweating because of our close proximity. 

"When do your parents come back?" he asked me. 

"My mom'll be here in..." I checked the time on my phone. "An hour, maybe more," I answered. Was I really going to have to wait here, sitting on the front porch, for an hour?  

"What about your dad?" he requested. I shook my head, staring at the ground.

"He always comes home late after work," I said. He ran his hand through his dark, long hair, as if contemplating something. I was about to sit down on one of the steps, shrugging my bag off my back, but he took ahold of my wrist. It wasn't a harsh act, but gentle, yet his large hand was rough. I let out a soft gasp, barely audible. 

"Come on," he said, letting go of my arm and going back down the stairs. I didn't move, what is he doing?

He didn't hear my footsteps behind him, so he motioned with his head for me to follow him. I prudently took his lead and we were now next to his car. "Get in," he demanded curtly. 

"What?" I rubbed my arm, unaware that it was the exact same spot where he touched me. 

"You can't sit here for an hour, come with me," came his reply, he had already unlocked the car and his door was open. When he noticed my disinclination, he tried to ease his tense muscles, making him look more approachable. "I won't kidnap you," he smiled, though it definitely wasn't an impressive one and it didn't reach his eyes. 

I swallowed and nodded. He took the hint and got in. "But what about murdering me," I grumble sarcastically to myself, making sure he couldn't hear me. 

He started the radio while I buckled myself in his car for the second time today. Whilst I was outside his car, Grayson's whole mood seemed to change from grumpy and unexpressive to a little bit more friendly and open, as in he talked more. 

I forced myself to open my mouth. "Where are we going?" My voice was a tiny bit shaky, but at least I didn't stutter. 

"You'll see," he said, looking beside him to see an unmeant pout on my lips. His eyes, now some more green in result of the sunlight, directed to them. My face burned up and I tucked in my bottom lip instead, humiliated that I did that in his presence. I probably appeared like a baby. 

"Don't do that," he groaned, letting my face leave from his vision and to the road again. I bit harder on my lip, not getting to the bottom of what I did wrong. He witnessed the subtle motion from the corner of his eye, rotating his head back to me. If it was even possible, his eyes turned a shade darker.

"What?" It left so tenderly it came out like a whisper. I didn't get a reply and he tried to busy his eyes with something else, so I dropped my gaze onto his arms, following them to his long fingers. For some abnormal reason, the spectacle of his hands, his large, rough and vein-y hands on the steering wheel made me feel an unfamiliar sensation in my lower abdomen. His knuckles turning white as he grips the wheel tightly didn't help either. I have never felt this way, I didn't know what it meant, and to try and stop it from making me feel bothered, I pressed my thighs together.