way five

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(show him what you really think)

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(show him what you really think)

* * *

James wouldn't stop shooting me concerned glances all throughout the drive.

I tried to ignore him, to focus all my attention on the road, doing my best to keep track of the traffic pattern. However, that wasn't an easy feat considering I could feel the weight of his worried gaze on me. He'd been like this ever since he'd been debriefed on the situation, made aware of what exactly was waiting for me at home. I suppose I understood his apprehension. He'd seen me fall apart from just the mention of my father; who knew what I'd do when I was face-to-face with the guy?

Still, it was annoying, and it only made the drive more insufferable than it already was.

"I can feel you looking at me, you know," I said, sparing a quick glance in his direction. "Driving is kinda hard to do when you have someone looking at you like you're about to Hulk out or some shit like that."

"Can you blame me?" he responded, crossing his arms. "I mean, you tell me that you're going to visit your dad—you know, the guy who you say is the reason for your trust issues and all that—and practically beg me to come along because you're not sure you can face him on your own. What do you expect? For me to act like this is just a normal visit home? I can't do that. I'm worried about you."

"I did not beg," I told him, pointedly ignoring the rest of what he said. I appreciated that he cared, I really did. The knowledge that there would be someone on my side regardless of what went down this weekend filled me with a sense of warmth: the kind of warmth that traveled through my veins, slowly spreading through my body until it was all I felt.

I was still new to this whole letting-people-be-there-for-you thing though, so despite how James' concern made me feel, it was difficult for me to find a way to voice my gratitude.

James lightly elbowed me. "You know what I meant."

I rolled my eyes, glancing quickly in the rearview mirror before changing lines. The drive was already pretty long—anything more than thirty minutes constituted as "long" in my book—so my patience was practically nonexistent, especially when it came to the people on the highway that stuck to the speed limit, as if they were purposefully trying to make the trip drag on for longer than it needed to.

As we passed the car that had been slowing everyone down, I noticed the driver was a grandma. Figures.

"Oh, hey. I forgot to ask. How'd your calculus test go?"

As soon as James brought up calculus, a shudder involuntarily worked its way down my spine. It was a little worrying how just the mere mention of the subject could evoke such a response from me. "Well... it wasn't terrible," I informed him. "I walked in there thinking that it'd be so bad I'd feel compelled to drop out, but that wasn't the case at all."

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