Fearless The King Series Book One - By Tawdra Kandle Page 0,17

was already more important to me than anyone except my parents. I knew that I trusted him. Beyond that, I was going to have to do something I rarely did: wing it.

I hurried to my locker after the final bell, anxious and ready to go. Michael was already there, leaning against the wall… He smiled as I rushed up with my books falling out of my hands.

“How was your afternoon?” he asked, as he watched me open the locker and juggle books.

I stepped back and spread my arms. “Well, I’m dry, so that’s one good thing. It was pretty uneventful. How about yours? And how did you get here so fast?”

“Mine was boring. English and Botany. And I got out a little early because we had a quiz in Botany, and I finished early. No more Nell issues?”

He had changed the subject so quickly I had to pause to think before answering. “No. She’s in my History class, but she pointedly ignored me.” I slammed the locker shut and turned to face Michael fully. “What’s her deal, anyway? I mean, I get that she’s the queen diva around here. I saw that right away. But usually those types don’t bother with anyone who doesn’t threaten them.”

Michael’s eyes were speculative. “Maybe you threaten her.”

I laughed. “Oh, that’s possible. No, I don’t think that’s the issue.”

“I’ve known her for as long as we’ve been in school. She’s always been someone you don’t want to mess with. Some of the guys can deal with her, but most of the girls steer clear, unless she chooses them to be in her little group.”

I laughed. “I don’t think that’s a concern of mine. I’ll be happy to be among the steering-clear crowd, if she leaves me alone.”

Michael smiled, too, ruefully. He glanced at his watch. “Are you all set?”

I nodded. “Ready to experience the wonder of your amazing cool car.”

He rolled his eyes. “She doesn’t appreciate sarcasm. Remember, she’s my best girl, so you’ll want to make a good impression.”

I giggled as we started toward the parking lot. Michael glanced sideways at me. “Assuming you do make the cut, do you think your mom would let me give you a ride to school? I drive in every day, and I could stop to pick you up… if you wanted.”

I did want, more than I could even express. And since my parents had—no matter how grudgingly—given their consent to rides from school, I decided that being driven to school couldn’t really be that different.

“Yeah, I think that would be fine,” I answered finally. Michael’s smile was nearly as staggering as the explosion of feeling that poured out toward me. I concentrated on keeping my steps steady.

We reached his car, and Michael opened the passenger door for me. I swung my backpack into the rear and sank into my seat as he sprinted around to his side.

I examined the interior carefully. “I like your car. It’s in very good shape for such an old… vehicle.”

Michael shook his head in mock despair. “It’s not old, it’s antique. And it’s been lovingly maintained. This car has been in my family since it was brand-new. That’s very unusual.”

“Really? I don’t know very much about cars.” I ran a finger over the chrome detail on the dashboard. “I mean, I can drive, and I do, but not that often. My mom usually needs the car during the day.”

Michael snuck a glance at me as he turned the key in the ignition. “Do you want to drive my car some time?”

Taken aback, I scrutinized his face to gauge his seriousness. “Are you kidding? You’d let me drive your antique?”

He laughed. “It’s a car, Tas. Yes, I am pretty fond of it. It was my uncle’s, then my dad’s, then my sister’s and now it’s mine. And I’d love for you to take it for a spin, if it would make you happy.”

Now I was more than surprised, I was touched. “Thank you,” I murmured. “I’d really like that.”

He grinned. “Of course, I should probably warn you… once you drive the ‘Stang, you’ll be spoiled for anything else.”

“I guess I’ll take my chances.” The car was meticulously maintained, and only a little bit of wear indicated its age. I looked at the vintage radio, the huge steering wheel… and the stick shift. Grimacing, I shook my head.

“Your car. It’s manual. I mean, stick shift.”

Michael turned in his seat, looking through the rear window as he began to back out. “Yup, it is.” He