Page 84 of So Much More
“You say that as if it’s something I should be ashamed of.” He puffs out his chest and pounds on it like a caveman. “Methinks you’re glad I’m a man.”
I ignore him and climb back into the car, which is much easier now that I’m wearing shorts instead of a skirt.
“Leslie’s bags will have to go on your lap,” he tells me as he slides back into his seat and pulls onto the street for the three-block drive to Leslie’s apartment.
“As if there’s room,” I scoff. “Next weekend we’re trading this car in for something more comfortable.”
“Oh,weare trading inmycar?”
I cross my arms over my chest, even though he can’t see that part of me in the mirror. “We are.”
“Personally, I think this car is extremely comfortable.” He pats his seat. “It’s like being wrapped in a leather hug. What do you think, Leslie?”
“Will you two stop it?” she says.
“Why?” Randall responds. “It’s fun. I told you she likes it.”
“You sound like an old married couple. I feel like I’m listening to my parents bicker.”
“Then I’m glad we make you feel right at home.”
Leslie groans, and I giggle. I do love the bickering. It’s almost as fun as the bantering. Randall and I continue quibbling about the car until we pull up in front of Leslie’s building. She jumps out before we come to a full stop and slams the door before I can tell her I want to go with her.
“Let me out,” I order Randall.
“Nope. You’re staying here with me.”
“I am not.”
I push on the passenger seat and try to reach the door handle, but the interior of this car is so confining and my arms are so short I’m unable to reach it. Randall simply watches and laughs at me.
“Let. Me. Out.” I punch the back of his seat on each word.
“Huh-uh.”
“Then I’m crawling up there to let myself out.”
“Go ahead. Try it,” he challenges.
“Oh, you’d better believe I’ll do more than try.”
I maneuver onto my knees on the back seat—not without some difficulty—and poke my head between the front seats. “Here I come. Don’t you try to stop me.”
Randall’s lips twitch, but he doesn’t let himself smile. “I wouldn’t dare.”
I succeed in getting my top half between the seats, but when it comes to my hips, no matter which way I turn, I can’t get them through. I curse the curves I inherited from my mother, and Randall laughs at me again.
“Where’d you learn to talk like that?” he asks.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
I finally manage to wriggle my hips through the gap, but then I’m not sure what to do. I turn so I’m sitting on the console facing backward and give Randall the strongest glare I can muster.
“You need some help?” he asks.
“No.”
His gaze travels along the half of my body he can see, and I tug up the neckline of my tank top, which was riding low after my struggle.
