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Tray led the way downstairs, swearing when the bags banged into the walls. After the second picture got knocked off the wall, I turned and held an arm out. “You can’t carry two bags? Are you serious?”
“These are not normal bags,” he pointed out. “You fucking packed for three months, not three days.”
“I’m a girl,” I stated, duh. “I am not a boy who needs one pair of pants and two shirts. Girls have different outfits for different events. Hotel, the games, the pool, and parties all equal different outfits. You’ve screwed how many girls? I’d think you’d be aware of some of these basic, fundamental, facts.”
Tray smirked. “No outfits were involved with those girls.”
“Shut up,” I snapped, grinning.
I held the door open as Tray ducked through and dumped the bags in the back, he carried my pillow to the front. When I climbed inside, I lit up—he’d gotten coffee!
As he drove down the road, I asked, “Where are we meeting?”
“Carter’s.”
“It’s going to be a caravan or something?”
“Probably,” he murmured, frowning at the road ahead.
“Do I need to be awake for all this?”
“Uh,” he trailed off, not listening to me anymore, “what the fuck?”
Glancing up, I saw a car accident. One car had been completely flipped over and the other consisted of a small square of metal. Literally. Ambulances, police, and firemen were everywhere.
“Go around,” I murmured, hunching down in my seat. I reached for my phone and shut it off. For some reason, a sense of foreboding had taken root in my stomach and I couldn’t look at the accident. It was an awful feeling and I was confused as to why this accident was making me feel this way.
Tray glanced at me quickly, but he switched down a side-road, bypassing the backed-up traffic.
I reached for the coffee and let the hotness burn my tongue. It took away the uneasiness I was feeling.
“Fuck!” I gasped.
Tray chuckled. “You saw the steam, you felt the cup, you knew
it was hot.”
“I got three hours of sleep, bitched out by the cheerleading coach, and I waited two hours at school for Props to show up. I’m tired and I’m crabby. Sue me,” I muttered, blowing on my coffee.
“Wanna have sex? I can pull over right now.”
I bit back a grin and tried to sound exasperated. “Are you kidding me?”
“It’s a good tension reliever.” Tray glanced at me. His voice was completely serious, but I saw the grin he was fighting back.
I rolled my eyes, giving him a small smile. “That’s not funny.”
“No, what’s funny is you actually thinking about it.” He chuckled, facing to the road.
“I was thinking about sleeping. Not having sex in your car.”
“It’s an SUV.”
“It’s a car.”
“No, it’s not. It’s an SUV. The dealership guy was very sure about that,” Tray argued, grinning.
“You’re deliberately trying to piss me off.”
