"Miss Darcy," Mr. Vaughan suddenly calls my name. My head whips up, my gaze connecting with his in the rearview mirror. His lips are pulled into a twisted smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Yes?" I flutter my lashes in confusion. "You're not wet," he states in a deadpan voice, a heaviness underlying his words. I slowly bring my eyes to my body, patting my clothes and my hair and realizing that, indeed, I am not wet. "It must have been the direction of the wind," I murmur, barely fighting the shock of the discovery. Yet the excuse sounds ludicrous even to my own ears. "It must," he
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Wtf
