About ten minutes after we got to The Eatery, our uber arrived. After a waiter handed us our bill, I sighed at Aimee. "I assume you'll be mooching your share off me?"

Picking up her clutch, she rolled her eyes. "Well, you assumed wrong. I can pay for myself."

"Fine by me."

Aimee pulled out a roll of cash, counting her share out of it. But before she handed it to the waiter, she glanced at me. "Aren't you going to insist on paying my bill?"

I scoffed. "Why would I do that?"

"Huh." She frowned. "Most guys I've gone out to eat with usually insist on paying. I don't know whether to praise you for not being that type of guy, or insult you being stingy."

Grinning, I paid my share and stood.

. . .

While we were heading to Aimee's house, I thought of something. "Wait, if you had money already, why make Dylan pay for you?"

Aimee furrowed her brow for a bit, then laughed. "Oh, you think I actually bought all that stuff with Dylan's money?"

I frowned. "You didn't?"

"No!" She paused, then added, "Well, except the popcorn. Dylan works to earn his money, I'm not cruel enough to blow through it because of my beef with him."

I frowned. You can go as far as leading Dylan on, but you couldn't use the money he offered you? Also, didn't you...

I shook my head. "That's so weird."

"What?"

"You have a problem with spending his money, but not with trashing his sneakers."

"Wh-" Her eyes widened, then she laughed. "Oh, that! How did you find out?"

"Dylan mentioned it while he was grumbling about you."

Still grinning, she scoffed. "That case was different! Did he expect them to remain in my spare locker after we broke up?"

"Is it really your spare locker if it wasn't assigned to you?"

She smirked. "Oh, but it was assigned to me!"

"By who?"

"Myself. Nothing in the rules says I can't claim an empty locker."

"Wow. I'm sure Prickleberry will love that alibi if he ever found out."

"Yeah, he did! In fact, he loved it so much that he decided to assign a tenth grader to look after the locker in my absence."

I frowned. "What?"

"He banned me from even so much as touching the locker."

I snickered. "How did he find out?"

"Remember that day when I was telling you about the accident at The Eatery, and he called me out of the hall?"

I briefly racked my brain, then nodded.

"Well, turns out he saw me bringing out Dylan's sneakers from the locker and trashing them."

Prickleberry's office faced Aimee's lockers, so it wasn't surprising that he'd seen her.

I nodded. "Ah."

Aimee looked a bit disappointed at my reaction.

Letting my head fall back on the headrest, I closed my eyes.

The car was warm compared to the outside environment, but I felt exposed. Luckily for me, the overall ambiance was relaxing. The movement of the car, the dim lights around me, the soft music playing...my mind began drifting off. I probably would have fallen asleep right then if it wasn't for what happened next.

My eyes flew open when I felt a weight rest lightly against my shoulder.

Before I could say anything, Aimee mumbled, "It's cold, and we aren't talking about this in the morning."

I didn't reply, mostly because I was too weirded out by the sudden physical contact. Although I had messed around with girls before, having one cuddle up to me was a new experience. It was like Aimee had crossed an invisible boundary of intimacy.

Despite my initial discomfort, I didn't push her away. I settled back in my seat and closed my eyes, letting the car movements and the smell of jasmine lull me to sleep.

. . .

The driver's voice woke me up. "Hey, excuse me? Sorry to disturb you both, but we're here."

Groaning, I forced my eyes open. It took me a bit to gather myself. When I did, my face warmed when I realized that Aimee was still asleep on my shoulder.

I nearly jerked away, but I caught myself in time. It's high time I surprise her for once.

Fixing a creepy grin on my face, I reached over and shook her shoulder.

After three attempts, she stirred, then opened her eyes.

I made my eyes as bug-eyed as possible. "Well, hello there, precious. Sleep well?"

Aimee's brow furrowed, then her eyes widened. She jumped back, shrieking as she hit her head against the car window. "Argh!!!"

I burst out laughing.

. . .

After I paid off the driver, I said, "C'mon, Aimee."

Not looking at me, she began walking to her gate. "Don't talk to me."

I followed her. "You have to admit, it was pretty funny-"

She stopped, whirling at me. "Pretty funny? How 'bout I give you a lump on the head, and then we'd see if it's funny!"

Stuffing my hands in my pocket, I drawled, "Don't be so dramatic, you didn't hit your head that hard."

"Whatever!" Turning, she continued towards the gate. "You can't imagine what it felt like waking up to such a sight!"

"Obviously. But, since we're on this subject-"

She glared at me. "Angelo, what did I say in the car?"

"That we shouldn't talk about what happened in the morning?".

"And what are you doing now?"

"Talking about it at night."

Aimee's mouth opened as her cheeks turned red.

After a few seconds, she started walking again. "Fuck off!"

Mr. Frey came outside. "Good evening, Aimee."

He looked at me. "Are you coming in as well?"

I shook my head.

Aimee said, "Yes, he is."

I frowned.

Before I could protest, she added, "I still have your hoodie, remember? I'll give it to you when we get to the door."

I sighed. "Alright."

Mr. Frey frowned, but let me in.

I rose an eyebrow at him. "Something wrong?"

He shook his head. "Go on in."

. . .

When I caught up to Aimee, I said, "I kinda get the feeling Frey doesn't like me very much."

She chuckled. "I can see why."

In a mock offended tone, I replied, "And that's supposed to mean what exactly?"

"That you're not the easiest person to get along with."

I scoffed. "Right. This is coming from the girl who asked me to walk her to her front door."

"Well, for your information, I asked you to because my phone's dead. I need you to call my brother to open the door."

"Oh yeah? Then why didn't you ask Frey to do that?"

"Because-" Aimee paused. "-I actually did not think of that."

Before I could reply, the door opened.

Turning to it, Aimee sighed. "Ugh, thank goodness you opened the door-"

The words caught in her throat when she found herself staring into Machiavelli's eyes.

He said, "Welcome home, young lady."