When I turn the corner, I can see the bus pulling away from the stop.

"Fuck," I yell.

I can feel tears pooling in the corners of my eyes, knowing I'm going to be late for work. And this sucks! Everything sucks!

I continue walking, reaching in my bag to pull out my phone so I can call work. I'm not going to be that late, but I'm definitely not going to get there on time. I'm dialing the number when I see a car out of the corner of my eye.

His car.

He stops, pushing a button to roll the passenger window down. And I stand here, looking at him, not caring that I'm crying. Okay, well, maybe I care a little.

"Just get in and let me take you to work."

"No," I say, realizing how petulant I sound. "I can walk."

"And I can touch my nose with my tongue," he says, putting the car in park. "That doesn't mean I'm going to do it right now."

I'm still thinking about his really, seriously random admission, so I don't refuse right away. You know, because it's weird. And also, because I'm kind of imagining him doing that in my mind. But then I remember everything that happened last night. "No."

"You're being ridiculous."

"And you're being a dick."

"Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?"

"No," I snap. "Actually, I don't. My mother died when I was twelve, so she got to miss my foray into vulgar language."

At my words, he looks stricken, pale. "God, fuck…" he stammers softly. "I didn't mean…"

"I'm just kidding," I say, feeling guilty about making him feel bad, but mostly because I just said that my mother was dead. When really, she lives somewhere in Florida with a man named Phil who's way too young for her. "But she could be. And you should think about that the next time you want to ask someone you don't know about their parents. Some people don't even have parents, and you could be hurting their feelings by bringing that shit up."

"You're so weird," he says, exasperated. "Why are you so fucking weird?"

"I don't know," I tell him. "Probably for the same reason that you're so fucking mean."

"Please," he says, and it's the first time his voice has been anything other than harsh or short. It's actually soft, quiet. I'm surprised by how much I'm affected by it. "Let me take you to work. You're going to be late."

I bring my thumb up to my mouth and chew on my nail. It's a disgusting habit I revert to whenever I'm nervous, and one I haven't been able escape over the years.

"Okay," I tell him. "But only because I don't want to be late."

When I get in the car, even though I'm anxious, my body can't keep from relaxing because he has the heat on. I place my bag on my lap, gripping it tightly with white knuckles.

"Seatbelt," he snaps.

"I remember," I mumble, pulling it across me.

We drive in silence all the way to the store. It only takes a few minutes, and because he's driving me, I realize I might even be a few minutes early.

"Can you really do that?" I ask, not really thinking about the question, only wanting to fill the awkward silence.

"What?"

"Touch your tongue to your nose?"

"Maybe," he says, his voice quiet again.

He pulls into the parking lot at the store and parks in the same space he was in yesterday.

"Can I see?"

He turns to look at me. His eyes are still impossibly green, but I notice there's no anger there right now. But they're still just as intense. I don't know why I'm looking at his eyes. I should not be looking at his eyes.

"Can I pick you up after work?"

I'm sure he can see the shock and confusion on my face.

"Why do you want to do that?"

"I just…I just do," he says, letting out a long breath. He scrubs his fingers over his beard, scrunching his eyes. I notice these little lines at the corner when he does it, and stupidly, I feel the need to reach across and smooth them out. And I have no reason to be thinking anything like that. "So, can I?"

"Will you show me?" I ask. "The tongue thing?"

He smiles. It's only the second time I've ever seen him smile. And the first time happened so fast, I wondered if I'd imagined it.

"Yes," he says. "If you'll let me pick you up, I'll show you the tongue thing."

I grin.

I don't mean to.

"Okay," I tell him, unbuckling the seatbelt. "I get off at…"

"Five," he interrupts. "You get off at five."

.

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So, yeah...y'all have feelings about beardward. Serious business feelings. :) And I freaking love it! Thank you for reading. I know I've said it what feels like a million times, it's just that I mean it. Thank you for every review, comment, tweet and recc. ISTG, each one makes me smile.

I am lucky to have the most amazing four women preread for me. Jaime, Kourt, Laura, and Raina. They're the best ever.

Marvar is amazing. Even when she's trying to abbreviate words and ends up insulting me. And by insulting me, of course I mean making me laugh so hard I almost pee my pants. She makes every word you read better.

See you all later today!

Reviews are love.

xo