Syria's POV:
My face was pressed against the window as the car view changed, not willing to glance in Jace's direction. My mind was filled with embarrassment by what had happened at the fair. How could I have the face to look at him?
But how did hiding in a corner lead to us making out?
"Syria."
He called out my name, but I didn't respond. What does he want again?I was not supposed to feel this way. I was supposed to be smarter, Stronger.
"Syria," he called again, his voice husky which kind of reminded me of how he called my name when I was helping him down.
"Are you going to ignore me? Who would have thought you are part of those that do "hit and run," he said with a teasing smirk at the end.
I turned my face, I couldn't stand that accusation.
"How did I run? I am still here with you—not that I have a choice though," I muttered. "But what do you expect me to say?" I added.
"That you enjoyed it." He said it like it was not an embarrassing thing to admit.
