I shook my head.
John held out his hand.
“What?”
“Give me yours. I’ll call myself.”
It felt weird handing John my phone, to see him type his number and press the call button. It looked like we were friends.
I’m not sure I can be your friend anyway.
John's words from last night came back to me. My neck flushed. Not friends. Rivals. Enemies. Competitors.
There was a buzzing sound coming from between the sofa cushions.
“I’ll call us a driver.”
“A driver?”
He nodded behind me, to where the snow covered the hot tub entirely.
“Unless you fancy helping me shovel my car free and de-icing the windows?”
I scrunched up my face.
“Like I thought.”
I looked over my shoulder to the front door. “What about your car?”
“I’ll have my assistant pick it up.”
Of course he had an assistant. Rich bastard.
He shrugged on his coat then stepped towards the back. “There is a snowdrift blocking that way so we’ll have to make our way around the house.” He threw my coat at me, it landed in my face. “Ready for a morning hike?”
I was proud to say I didn’t take his offer to help me down the frozen steps.
And I only fell twice. Though the second time, I was sure I’d broken my butt.
I limped down the road, while John moved with his usual elegant ease.
At the far end of a road, behind a snow drift, a man in a suit waved at us. A massive black car was parked behind him.
“Let’s get you home,” John said, taking my bag before I could protest.
I winced when I sat. My tailbone would surely be blue and green tomorrow. The car was…massive was an understatement. You could house a family of four in here. Black and sleek. Soft ass leather. Was that a fridge?
John slipped into the seat beside me, looking like he was about to be picked up for the Oscars, not like he had just survived a freaking snowstorm and slept on the floor.
“Where to?” he asked, handing me a folded blanket from behind the headrest when he noticed I was shivering. I wanted to turn it down but, fuck it. I wrapped it around my soaking legs, sighing at the warm air blasting from the middle console at my feet.
I gave the driver my address. The man nodded into his mirror at John, then his eyes were trained on the road for the rest of the journey. We didn’t speak as we rode past the treetops that looked like a Christmas postcard. Watching his fingers glide over his phone, seeing him in his natural environment, reminded me that we were nothing alike. I was a fan fiction writer and bookseller, struggling to keep my and my mom’shead afloat, while he…was a celebrity who could afford a venti iced latte once a day without going broke. And he was taking space away that wasn’t his to take. It was selfish and arrogant…whatever this competition was for him, it was a game. An ego boost. He did it because he could. A writer that disliked people like me—people that borrowed characters and spun their own tales. With every roar of the engine, my resolve to kick his ass regained strength. The lull of the road noise and the heat of the blanket were soothing, and my eyelids became heavy…
“Nora?”
I sucked in a breath and sat up straight. John's face was very close to mine. His fingers were inches away from my face, and there was a tingle on the side of my cheek where he must have just brushed it.
I had managed to fall asleep almost immediately. The pressure of the competition, the nights spent writing instead of sleeping, and the nap on the floor… must have been too much. I had even forgotten to be tense sitting in a car together.
