Distraction: The Distraction Trilogy #1 by A. E. Murphy

past. Four. That’s just mean on so many levels.”
    “Hmm.” He tweaks the radio so the music is low. “I’m actually glad I got this chance to speak to you. I forgot to mention to you earlier when you showed up with a basket bigger than yourself in your arms.”
    “Shoot,” I say and twist in my seat so I’m looking at his profile.
    “You didn’t do the work I assigned in class. The paper you gave to me was blank, save for the first two questions, which you’d written down but hadn’t yet answered.”
    Bollocks. “Yeah, I was a little umm… I… I’m sorry. I just wasn’t paying attention.”
    “Are you struggling with the work?” His brows draw together and he looks at me for a moment before turning his eyes back to the road. “If you are, please just say.”
    “No, not at all. I love Churchill and that Muselin guy.”
    “It’s Mussolini,” he corrects, his lips twitching.
    “Right.” I murmur and watch his graceful movements as he changes gears and turns the corner that leads back into town. “I’ll get it done if you’ll give me the questions again. I’ve been a bit distracted lately.”
    “Are things okay at home?”
    The fact he seems genuinely concerned startles me. Most people in this town keep to themselves and don’t pick up on things that they should. “Things are fine. No complaints. I just meant because I’m working and all of the work I have to catch up on. It’s my fault. I’ll get back into the swing of things once the year gets going again.”
    He only nods and leaves it at that. I realise he doesn’t want to talk anymore when he turns the radio up and sinks back into his chair, his body seemingly relaxed but also tense at the same time. He’s not the only one who’s perceptive. Mr Price has problems at the moment, deeper problems than I, most likely. He must be stressed because of his mum. I don’t blame him. Alzheimer’s is an awful disease and Mrs Price is an awesome lady who doesn’t deserve such an awful thing.
     
    We make it to the petrol station in total silence and Mr Price fills up the green petrol tank that he collects from his boot. I wait for him in the car as instructed, frowning when he ignores the money I hold out for him.
    I watch him through the window of the station as he makes his way to the till and shares a laugh with the man behind the desk. They seem familiar. They probably know each other. It’s a small town.
    When they both look my way, I shrink in my seat. Clearly they’re laughing at my expense. On a final nod, Mr Price turns and makes his way through the doors and back towards the car. He only grins when he notices my scowl and grins wider when I huff and turn away from him.
    “Is that how you thank your rescuers normally?”
    “Only when they poke fun at me with strangers.”
    Rolling his eyes, he puts the car into gear and moves us out of the station. “I suppose I shouldn’t expect much, seeing as I already saved you once before and you weren’t exactly elated.”
    My mouth drops open and my hand twists round to smack him on the arm. “I almost died! I was a little shaken.”
    “Did you just hit me?”
    “Umm…”
    “You do know I could have you expelled for that? My dad is the head teacher after all.”
    Now I’m the one rolling my eyes. “Dramatic much?” Then I bat my eyelids and clasp my hands under my chin. “Thank you, Mr Price, for rescuing me from the cold streets. I’ll be eternally in your debt.”
    “And for saving your life,” He adds, his smile cocky.
    My eyes roll again and my voice deepens with a mocking tone. “And for saving my pitiful existence. Happy?”
    “Extremely.”
    “Good.” Leaning forward slightly, I change the radio station and twist the volume up a notch.
    “Pretty sure I said don’t touch the radio.”
    “Pretty sure I just ignored you.”
    He doesn’t smile, but he doesn’t seem irritated either. Instead he falls silent and concentrates on driving as I relax back and close my