He said, "I want you to look at me.

"You keep avoiding me.

"Why?"

I muttered, "Why did you come back?"

Lyman wiped the corner of my mouth with his thumb, catching a bit of the milky white liquid.

His eyes softened. "Because you're about to graduate, silly."

For a moment, I felt a pang of disappointment.

So, he came back to break off the engagement.

Then why was he still flirting with me?

I realized he was trying to get back at me for what happened last night.

What a vindictive man! I would not fall for his tricks.

In the morning, I rode with Lyman to school.

He insisted on driving me to the campus.

On the way, we ran into some classmates who stopped to say hello.

I panicked and dove right into Lyman's lap.

Without missing a beat, he silently rolled the window up a bit with one hand and gently held my head down with the other.

The space inside the car was tight.

His unique, cool scent filled my nostrils, especially since my face was so close to him.

It made my cheeks burn.

"Why isn't he driving yet?" I wondered.

I started to feel restless and shifted slightly, trying to find a better position.

While casually chatting with the student outside, Lyman reassured me with a few gentle strokes of his hand on my head.

"Mr. Donovan, is there someone else in the car?" the student asked.

I panicked.

If anyone found out I was in his car, it would be a huge scandal.

I could not let that happen.

I quickly buried myself deeper into the seat.

Lyman cleared his throat, his voice a bit huskier. "You're mistaken, just a stray cat."

It was getting really hot in here.

I could hardly bear it.

The tension seemed to stretch on forever.

Then no voices sounded anymore.

I asked in a muffled voice, "Are they gone?"

There was a moment of silence in the car.

I could only hear Lyman's shallow breathing.

He lifted my chin.

Now his voice was even raspier.

He asked, "Who are you talking to?"

I sensed something was off.

I slapped his hand away. "I'm going to be late, Mr. Donovan!"

Just as I reached to open the door, he pulled me back.

He frowned and sulked, "You're so cold to me now.

"You didn't use to be like this."

"I've grown up," I shot back.

I quickly looked him over.

His shirt was buttoned up, and his hair was perfectly in place.

Even his eyelashes screamed restraint.

"I don't like your uptight style. I prefer the wild type," I said dismissively.

Lyman narrowed his eyes.

I sensed his anger.