Freddie thought her lungs might punch through her esophagus. In a good way. Because where she'd expected Divya and Laina to be in the Jeep, it turned out to be only Kyle.
Freddie was pretty sure that qualified this moment as a date.
"Thanks for the jacket," she said as she clambered into shotgun. She slipped it off, and a great wash of cool air and sadness wafted across her. At least she had Xena back, though, and safely around her neck.
"You're welcome." Kyle grinned. "Did it work?"
"Erm." Freddie wasn't sure how to answer that question. After all, it was a jacket, not a power tool. "Yes?"
He grinned even wider.
"So where are Laina and Divya?" Freddie asked as he shifted into drive.
"Laina's got her mom's car tonight, so she's driving them. And Cat is driving her and Luis, so we're all meeting at the cul-de-sac."
"The . . . cul-de-sac?" Kyle acted as if Freddie should know the place. "Um, what is this cul-de-sac?" Freddie asked when it became clear Kyle hadn't understood that her previous repetition was actually a question.
"You know, Mrs. Elliot's unfinished subdivision." Devastating grin. "If you cut through the woods, you end up right next to Fortin Prep's landscaping shed. There's a gate there, and no one ever locks it."
As the Jeep turned off of Freddie's road, Kyle's swoony green eyes latched onto her. "Sorry I didn't come to your locker after school. I forgot I had detention."
"Oh." Freddie blinked. "And here I thought I'd missed you because I had . . ." She trailed off. There was nothing at all she could say that wouldn't lead to questions or strange looks about the hanging—and neither questions nor strange looks were what Freddie was going for tonight.
"I . . . stayed late after class. To tutor Divya." She is going to kill me. "Why were you in detention?"
"I skipped school." He winced adorably.
And Freddie really didn't think he could get any cuter. She'd always found Bad Boys appealing—particularly if they wore tight pants and sang about summer nights and greased lightning. "Do you perhaps have a leather jacket?" she asked hopefully. "Or a motorcycle?"
"No."
"Alas." She sighed.
"I think someone left one at my family's dry cleaners, though." He smiled. "A leather jacket. Not a motorcycle." This made him laugh, and in turn, made Freddie laugh too.
"Do clothes often get left at the dry cleaners?"
"All the time. We've got like, a bajillion Quick-Bis uniforms. Oh, and a ton of Fortin Prep uniforms too. It's my job to track down their owners, but if I don't find them"—he shrugged—"then the stuff gets donated. Or just thrown away."
"What a dutiful son," Freddie breathed. Hard-working and charitable.
Two more turns, and Kyle steered them onto the curvy road beside the lake. The sun was almost gone, leaving the road dark and the lake hidden behind trees and shadow.
"Hey," Kyle said, thumbs tapping on the steering wheel to a melody only he could hear. "Can I get your phone number? That would make it a lot easier next time I want to hang out with you."
Next time. He'd said next time.
Freddie nodded frantically, incapable of doing much else. A real boy was showing interest in her! And he was getting her phone number. She never wanted to return the Lance Bass keychain. Ever.
YOU ARE READING
The Executioners Three
Teen Fiction*A Wattpad Editor's Choice* Freddie kissed him again. He groaned and pressed into it. Deepened it immediately, kissing her so hard, she thought he might draw blood. She liked it. But then he was pulling away. Backing away three steps, and freezing...
