Candy Gram ✓

chapter eight

The walk home begins to feel like an eternity. A cold eternity, at that; all the warmth I felt before on our way over to the animal shelter is completely gone now.

Ben is cute, though. He keeps going on and on about the kittens, and how they loved him, and how he loved them back, and how he wants them all, but is fine with just a few.

There's practically no one outside. I know that pretty much everyone is probably at work or chilling at home. So, I'm all the more surprised when I see a dingy white Ford truck plowing through the snow slowly, cautiously.

With David Marquez in the front seat.

I mom-arm Ben for a second, because we're still on the road, and I don't trust high school drivers with my life. (Myself included.) The truck comes to a stop slowly, a little snow spraying from the tires towards us.

The passenger window is rolled down. "Why, hello," he says. "You guys look cheery."

"Just left the animal shelter," I tell him, moving my arm from in front of Ben to resting on his shoulders. I'm just glad to see that he's not in Cupid gear – I would freaking die. And I don't really feel like dying right now.

He nods in his David-y way. "Cool. Is that your brother?"

I'm surprised to see Ben take a step forward and smile. He's usually really slow to warm up to people – social anxiety. But he walks up to the truck and tries to pop his head up so he can see. "Yeah, I am," he says as I begrudgingly pick him up. (I too like to be carried. I have to let him live enjoyably now, before middle school gets to him.)

There's this warmth wafting from the truck; I think David might have seat warmers. The cold suddenly seems to bite at my fingers, and I release Ben with a sore groan. This encounter is only really enforcing my urge to go home. Hot chocolate. Blankets. Maybe even Secret Guy.

"Nice to meet you," David says. He has a kind of odd smile, like some kind of Dr. Seuss character or some weird cartoon kitten face. It's weird how his face scrunches up when he smiles – like it is now. But, I like it. He's cute in an unconventional way. "I'm David."

"I know," Ben says from his street-vantage. "You came to our school to volunteer with my class, right?"

"You're in Mr. Alanis's class?" The wrinkles intensify. This guy is some kind of human puppy, I swear.

Ben nods.

"Nice, man!" David unbuckles and slides along the seats, then sticks his arm out the window for a high five. His eyes meet mine, wide and warm. "I can give you guys a ride wherever you're headed, if you want."

It's the last thing I want. But, my cold fingers are starting to complain, and Ben's obviously feeling tired. "I don't want to inconvenience you—" I start.

"Nick," David says, his tone dropping more than usual. (Jesus, I love his voice. I want a David Marquez's Voice smoothie.) "You're never an inconvenience."

I'm hoping that he just thinks my flush is because of the cold. "Well, thanks," I say, opening the back door and helping Ben climb in. Is it stupid I'm nervous to sit next to David Marquez? Because I totally am.

I almost slip on my way into the truck, and David's hand grabs my wrist with some sort of athlete's instinct that makes my stomach flip. "Thanks," I mutter, brushing some of the snow off my definitely-going-to-bruise knee.

"Don't mention it," he says. I act preoccupied with rubbing my numb cheeks – his eyes are focused on the road anyway, so it's not like it matters.

When he pulls up to our driveway, Ben unbuckles before the truck even stops. "What's this?" he asks. I turn to look at him, but I don't see anything.