Route C was big enough that there was a steady rotation of drivers. That was good, because if Evin had drawn Cecelia every time, he would have rather walked the 8 miles to campus and back every day.

Cecelia delighted in pulling away just as Evin reached the bus stop, even if he was only seconds behind the old Blue Bird. She was also fond of leaving before the he could get off at his stop, knowing that the next one was nearly a mile down the road and that the sidewalk in between was patchy.

Then there were the rare but especially unfortunate times when Evin left his bag on the bus. Cecelia would leaving before he could get back on to collect it, no matter how hard he shouted or pounded. That bag had ended up in the lost and found at the city central bus terminal, discreetly relieved of sunglasses and emergency cash. When she was in a good mood, Cecelia would only charge Evin full bus fare to collect his bag (though still often driving away before he can get off the bus).

And that was without factoring in all the times she’d closed the door on a loose fold of Evin’s clothes, a trailing hand, a wayward foot, or the long ponytail Evin had worn for a time.

Needless to say, Evin hadn’t taken the abuse lying down, but his options were limited. Rents along Routes A and B were double or triple those on C. Cecelia was connected; her uncle was apparently a manager for city transit. Comparing notes with other passengers led Evin to believe that her wrath was only focused on a select few.

And all because he’d dumped Cecelia’s baby sister over the phone.

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