couple
miles away.”
I debate it for a moment. I’ll
probably get hell from Tiffany if I go. Ultimately, my desire for
caffeine wins. “Let’s go.”
He helps me up into his truck. It’s
something my old friends at my private high school would have made
fun of me for riding in. To say it’s a beater is an understatement.
But it’s clean; I’ll give him that. I inhale the musky scent and
relish in it. Tyler’s car always smells so perfectly new. Most
people would prefer the new car smell, but I actually prefer the
masculine woodsy scent that Craig’s truck holds. I watch him shift
gears as we drive out of the camp.
“Is Tyler gonna be mad if he wakes up
and you’re not there?” He takes his eyes off the road to look over
at me.
“Not if I bring back coffee,” I lie.
Secretly, I’m hoping he doesn’t wake up, because I’m not sure what
his reaction will be. It’s not like I’m doing anything wrong, but I
still have a feeling he wouldn’t be too happy with me taking off
with Craig, even just for a coffee run.
He raises his eyebrows and nods his
head, making it clear that he doesn’t believe me.
“Will Tiffany be mad?” I
counter.
“She knows we’re not serious. She
shouldn’t care who I hang out with.”
“Do you take anything seriously?” I
ask with irritation that surprises myself.
He scrunches his eyebrows in confusion
but still answers. “I do.” Then he turns it around on me. “Do
you?”
“I take everything
seriously.”
“From what I can tell, that’s just
school and maybe cheerleading,” he debates.
“That’s what matters right now. I’m
working towards a goal.”
“Really?” he turns to look at me,
while he shifts to stop at the red light. “Let me ask you something
then. What’s your major?”
“I don’t know yet.” I know he’s going
to make a smart-ass comment, so I hurry to explain. “But we’re only
freshman. I have plenty of time to decide on one.”
“You don’t even know what goal you’re
working towards? Being so serious is gonna get tiring, princess.
You have to be passionate about something.”
“What’s your major then?” I counter,
fully expecting him to have the same answer as me.
“Special education,” he blurts out
without even giving it a thought.
“Yeah, right.” I don’t believe him for
a second. Craig Morgan is not the type of guy to work with
children, never mind children with special needs.
He sighs. “You don’t believe me.” It’s
not a question, but a statement.
“I think it’s hard to
believe. You want
to be a SPED teacher? You’re either going to start laughing any
second now or this is some plan to win brownie points with girls to
get them in bed.” As soon as I say it, I regret it because his eyes
cloud over and his face gets too serious. I can tell I offended
him.
“Okay, this conversation
is over,” he declares taking a deep breath. “But for the record, I
don’t want to be a SPED teacher. My goal ,” he stresses in order to spit
my very own word back at me, “is to become a therapeutic recreation
specialist.”
The fact that he even knows what that
is leaves me speechless. Now I feel horrible. I know he’s upset,
but I literally have no idea what to say right now so I just stare
out the windshield at the road in front of us. I want to ask him
what exactly a therapeutic recreation specialist does, but I don’t
feel like I have a right to know now so I just sit here feeling
guilty. After what feels like forever, I finally look over at
him.
“I’m sorry.”
He nods his head, but doesn’t say
anything in return.
“Why do you put up with me?” I ask,
suddenly. Now he’s the one surprised. He looks over at me, his
brows creased in question, so I go on. “Let’s face it, I’m mean to
you.”
“You’re not mean to me.”
“I kind of am.”
He laughs, no longer upset about my
calling his bluff on his major. “Okay, princess. You want the
truth?”
Honestly, I’m not sure I do. He