Still, he doesn’t move.
“What are you doing?”
“Waiting for you to find my keys.”
Right. Since he gave me the keys.
Now, this should be a fairly simple task; however, I brought make-up in case I needed to reapply so there’s a good bit more in my purse than there normally would be.
Like mascara. Lip gloss. A pack of tissues. Let’s see…
“Tell me you didn’t lose them in the black hole.”
“Don’t call my purse a black hole.” Although that is an apt description. I’m sorry I didn’t think of it. “Hold this.” I hand him the makeup and continue rooting around. Oh god. I think I just touched something furry. Whew. Just my scrunchy. I toss that at Elliott as well. There are my keys, but where are his?
Crap.
“Loren?”
“They’re in here. Just give me a sec. Do you have a flashlight?”
“Black holes eat light,” he mutters, shifting my stuff into his other arm so he can retrieve his own phone from his pocket and flick on the flashlight.
Now that I can see, I manage to locate his keys under the reusable straw Meg gave me the other day. “Found them.”
A grumbling Elliott drops my stuff back into my purse and then rounds the front of the vehicle to climb into the passenger seat. By the time I slip into the driver’s side, he already has his seatbelt fastened.
Even as tall as I am, Elliott’s seat takes forever to slide into place, and I can feel his eyes burning a hole into the side of my face.
“Why do you keep looking at me?” It’s unnerving and I don’t like it. Mostly.
“Just making sure you know what you’re doing.”
He can’t be serious. “I know how to drive.” Got my permit at fifteen-and-a-half and haven’t had so much as a speeding ticketexcept that one time. In my defense, they dropped the limit in town without telling anyone.
He leans against the center console, draping those long fingers of his over the gearshift. “But do you know how to drivewell?”
I give his knuckles a flick. “If you get your hand off of this, we’ll find out.”
While I have been driving for over ten years, I should probably mention that I haven’t driven anything bigger than the hearse. This thing has a steering wheel and a gas pedal, so it can’t bethatdifferent.
At least that’s what I believe until I need to squeeze out of this teeny-tiny parking space.
The worst part is, Elliott thinks he’s being helpful by telling me what to do. Like I don’t see the neon green Jeep parked behind us.
Newsflash: I do.
With all his side-seat driving, I’m so flustered by the time I pull out of the damn parking lot, that I nearly miss the turnoff for the highway.
“I’m surprised you didn’t want to stay with Pamela.” At least then I could’ve driven home in peace.
“Who?”
“Seriously, Elliott? Don’t tell me you’re one ofthoseguys.” I glance over to find him watching me with a blank expression. “You literally had your tongue down the woman’s throat thirty minutes ago.”
“Her name was Tamela.”
I think I’d remember if the woman’s name was Tamela. “No, it wasn’t.”
