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“The fact that I spent all that money on a car,” he answers.
What can I say my brain and my trap are definitely two separate entities. I give him my personal view when I begin, “Well my dad is a school caretaker, and my mother died when I was three, I can’t even fathom having that kind of money to spend in a lifetime of saving. So no, in my view it’s not moral to spend that much on a car when you could just buy something like a Nissan that will get you from A to B and only cost a fraction of the price.”
“A Nissan?” he snorts.
“Yup. Some of us don’t even have the luxury of a Nissan. Some of us have to get around the old fashioned way, with our legs.”
“Yes, some people do,” he says in a deep voice, and I regret having said it because now he is focused intently on that previously mentioned part of my body.
“Speaking of which,” he continues. “Yours are a picture.”
“You should concentrate on the road, Ethan.” I reprimand his wandering gaze.
“Yes you’re right, I really, really should.” But despite him agreeing with me, his eyes still haven’t returned to the road.
I snap my fingers in his face to get his attention. A second later he lifts his gaze and focuses back on his driving.
“What is your problem?” I hiss.
“I don’t understand.”
“It’s like you’re constantly sexed up. It’s making me uncomfortable, and I get the exact same vibe off your friend Lucas, even Delilah. Are you three some sort of sex addicts or what?”
He laughs deeply. “No, Tegan, we are not sex addicts. Have you considered that maybe it’s you?”
Is he mental? I have not made one step towards even light-hearted flirting with him, Delilah or Lucas. It’s certainly not me. “How could it be me? You lot are the ones coming on to me.”
“I can assure you, we’re not like that with everyone.”
“So what then? Am I somehow leading you on, without consciously being aware of it? Because it’s definitely not something I’m doing on purpose.”
“That’s exactly it my darling. It’s just you, and I’ve yet to discover what it is about you that is so – alluring.”
I look down at my feet and let my hair fall over my face. Hiding the blush on my cheeks.
“I like it when you do that,” he says, looking from the road to me.
“Do what?”
“Hide behind your hair.”
“Oh.”
“It makes my mind wander.”
“Right.”
“Do you want to know where it wanders to?”
“I have a feeling I don’t.”
He laughs softly and then pulls into the car park of a fast food restaurant, all glowing signs and traditional American diner style décor. Ethan gets out of the car and opens my door for me.
“Milady,” he says, bowing slightly and smirking. Then once again he offers me his arm and I take it.
When we get inside the people in the place hush their conversation for a moment, some nodding to Ethan in a respectful manner. After he nods back they return to what they were doing before we arrived.
“Ethan my man, how’s business?” says a tall, bulky but muscular man with curly red hair. He’s standing behind the counter and wearing a stained chef’s apron.
