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I hang on for dear life, and finally, I win out as he lets go. I lob it over to the open suitcase sprawled on the floor, but as it bounces off the edge, it’s like everything happens in slow motion. The zipper has come undone, and the contents spill all over the floor, including my not-so-subtle hot pink vibrator…
Mortification sweeps through me, and we both freeze, time seeming to stand still as I lunge over and scoop everything up faster than you can blink.If there was a prize in spilled item recovery, along with embarrassing moments, I’d be awarded the gold medal.
If I could make the ground open up and swallow me whole, I’d do it right this very second.
I avoid his gaze as my face flames.
Annoyance floods through me, that he’s humiliated me like this. I don’t even know where to look.
He clears his throat and when I finally shove everything in, still holding the bum lifter jeans under one arm and my blow dryer in the other, I storm past him, dragging my case along with me.
If I’m not mistaken, he has a very smug smirk on his face, one that I’d like to knock into next week if he says anything at all regarding what he just saw.
I shove the case in the open trunk and quickly throw myself into the passenger seat, wishing this car had a back seat to so I could shrivel up and die.
There is nowhere to hide in a tiny sports car.
He shuts the trunk, climbs in, and starts the engine.
“Seat belt, V,” he says, his tone calm as I huff and pull the damn thing around me and click it into place.
“Happy?”
“I am now that we’re in the car.”
“You know, I can see why you’re single.”
“You say that like it’s not a choice.” He pulls out of the lot as I stare out the window, doing anything to avoid looking or talking to him.
It’s going to be a long couple of hours.
There is nothing to be embarrassed about.
“I don’t remember you ever being this bossy,” I fume. “I think you’ve been hanging around my brothers for too long?”
“That may be so, but this is the first time I’ve traveled with you since we were kids. I seem to remember it being a lot less complicated.”
“Well, I was ten years old,” I remind him. “And we were camping.”
Despite myself, I smile at the memory. I haven’t thought about that summer trip in forever.
Ma liked to keep things real and once a year she’d drag us all to the beach and we’d make a weekend of it. Those were the best times, when we camped out under the stars and my brothers weren’t ruthless killers.
I close my eyes.
A few moments go by, after he pulls out into the mid-afternoon traffic, which flows without slowing us down too much. “I’m sorry if I rushed you,” he says out of nowhere. “I didn’t mean to make you spill your things.”
Of course my humiliation won’t end. Oh no, he’ll go to town holding this over me.
So I decide to do what any normal, sensible woman would do when caught in an unfortunate predicament like this one; just go with it.
Screw him and his judgy eyes.
“Just because you saw my pink dildo doesn’t mean that I care or that I have to explain it to you about it. It’s a sex toy. I’m single. Deal with it.”
There.
That will set him straight.
