Nearly 30 minutes had passed when a familiar car pulled up to the curb, its headlights cutting through the gloom.
The window rolled down, and Elias leaned over, his sandy blonde hair tousled like he’d been running his hands through it. “Need a lift, or are you just enjoying the weather?”
I couldn’t help the faint smile that tugged at my lips as I stood and walked toward the car. “You’re late.”
“Traffic,” he said smoothly, though the playful glint in his light blue eyes suggested otherwise.
I climbed into the passenger seat, grateful for the warmth that enveloped me as he turned up the heat.
“Thanks,” I murmured, settling into the seat.
“For what?” he asked, glancing at me as he pulled away from the curb.
“For coming to get me.”
He shrugged, his lips quirking into a crooked grin. “You act like I had better plans.”
I rolled my eyes, but his teasing had the intended effect—I felt lighter, the tension in my chest easing slightly.