White teeth glint in the darkness as his lips spread across his face with a smirk. “Haven’t we seen this episode already? Why don’t we skip to the next one?”
I swivel on my tired feet to face him with my arms crossed over my chest. “Couldn’t find a willing participant to suck your dick?”
Nope, that doesn’t sound jealous at all.
Do you see my eyes rolling?
If I thought he’d be affected by the question, I would be disappointed. His dark hair brushes his shoulders as he shakes his head and pushes off the wall. “Can’t say that’s ever been a problem.”
“Because you’re so irresistible, right?” I sound like a cliché bitter ex, but I can’t control the resentment coming out of my mouth.
“Jealousy looks good on you.” He grips my coat between his nimble fingers and walks me backward.
“I am notjealous,” I insist as I try to stop, turn…anything to get away from him, but I fail miserably, nearly tripping over my own feet in my futile attempts.
“If you say so.” Smirking, he reaches behind me, and I’m tumbling into the soft leather seats. He bends, his breath hitting my ear. “Don’t worry. I wanted to strangle Tom this morning.”
I reel, shock slamming like a dancer’s fall off the stage. Hard. Headfirst. Then, just as quickly, I shove it away. I don’t have the mental capacity to work that one out.
He shuts the door, leaving me to compose myself before he gets in.
Sitting in this seat, my entire body slumps, and the exhaustion becomes overwhelming. I’m not sure I’ll make it to my apartment before I pass out.
When his door shutting jars my almost unconscious mind awake, I realize I’m like a toddler, not even making it out of the driveway, so I decide to keep myself busy by being nosy. “Do you really keep handcuffs in here?”
“Don’t open that,” he yells, but not fast enough. I flip open the center console before he can stop me.
Light spills out.
My breath vanishes.
My stomach drops.
My eyes dart to the lit interior and up to him, wide and shocked, though my gut says I shouldn’t be. That I am suggests I was looking through rose-colored glasses. “I-is that…”
He shuts the console, eyes emotionless and cold, ignoring my freak out, and reaches across from me to the glove box. Clicking the button, the latch releases, and a pair of shiny, silver handcuffs. “That answer your question?”
“Are we just going to pretend I didn’t see what I think I saw?”
“I know what’s in there.” He turns to face me. His body language is aloof, expression ambivalent, but his eyes…I can’t decipher what I see there, but it’s not the unaffected aura he’s trying to project. “You can pretend you didn’t see it or not. It doesn’t matter to me.”
“Is that always in there? Has it been there every time I’ve been in this car?”
All the scenarios run through my mind. The consequences of getting caught with freaking drugs would be harsh, and I can’t afford anything else in my life right now.
“Calm down, Halfpint. It’s nothing you need to stress out over. Even if I got caught, I wouldn’t let you suffer.”
“D-did you…Is that…Casey said you and Phoebe partied. Is that what she meant?”
“Do you really want me to paint that picture?” He gets quieter. “I don’t think you do.”
I don’t need him to say it to know. My imagination is conjuring plenty of images on its own. God, why didn’t it occur to me when I already know my sister has a substance problem? She has since she was a teenager. It was one of many things we argued about when we were younger. I hated who they turned her into. They made her volatile and irrational. I deserve most of the anger and resentment she has for me, but the drugs made her much more cruel than when she was sober.
“Is it going to be a problem?”
My mouth drops that he’d even ask that question. “What do you think?” I snap, and my jaw clenches until pain erupts. “I fucking despise that shit.”
The urge to throw myself from his car takes over. I fight against the need to be away from him, from the thing that turned my sister into someone I don’t recognize anymore. It presses down on my chest as anger, resentment, and desperation mix with every minute that passes.
