AARÓN CONNOR.

OREGÓN–PORTLAND.

꘎♡━━━━━━━♡꘎

"It can't be… did you buy a car?" she asks as I open the door for her to get in.

I shake my head with a small gesture and step aside so she can pass.

She crosses the threshold with that way of walking she has — always uncertain, like she’s never quite comfortable in her own skin. I close the door behind me with a firm click and walk around to the other side of the car, opening it for her. She gets in and immediately starts looking around, shifting on the seat as if every corner of this vehicle holds something she needs to discover. Her hands brush over the dashboard and she presses the button that lowers the window, testing if it actually works. Then she adjusts the mirror, even though there's no need to.

"So where did it come from then?" she asks.

I roll my eyes, feeling irritation coil behind my temples.

I wonder if her naivety is real or if she just enjoys pushing my patience to the edge.

"Violet, it's just rented," I say, emphas