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“The Batmobile. A pit of evil. Something on the level of your nice watch.”
He shrugged, one large hand resting on the door as I climbed in. Sunlight sparkled off the snow-capped roofs of the cars.
“Where’d you get the money to do this companion thing?” I lowered my voice, glancing around Patrick. Fortunately, this early on a Saturday morning, the parking lot was empty.
“I saved up.”
“You must really want it. It’s a lot of money over the semester.”
He closed the door without answering.
Inside the car, Patrick switched on the heat, and, when we turned onto the main campus road, the radio. It was tuned to our college station.
“Helloooo, State U!” some guy hollered. “I’ll be providing you with tunes for the next two hours on this bright and snowy Saturday morning. Let’s start with some steel drums—”
Patrick twisted the dial tooff.He seemed perfectly happy, or what passed for happy with Patrick, to drive without talking.
I stretched, still sore, and cleared my throat. “What kind of music do you like?”
He gave me a significant look out of the corner of his eye. “The sound of silence.”
We went around a traffic circle. Some bikers, brave or just crazy, were cycling through the snow.
“Why’d you treat me the way you did?” I pushed. My arms and legs felt like rubber.
“I watched you in the quad.” His straightforward tone made me shiver. “On the phone you were all,Everything’s fine, isn’t it funny that this shit is happening, I’m just telling you for your entertainment because everything! Is! Fine!Then you were bawling your eyes out. You keep a lot inside, don’t you? I just gave you a reason to let it all out.”
For once, I was speechless.
“That’s so nice of you, Patrick,” I finally said. “I’m glad this is all about me.”
“How’d you run out of money?”
It was none of his business, but I answered anyway.
“I was having fun last semester.” I tried to be airy, but my face burned. “I’d buy everyone a round of drinks…order pizzas if it was someone’s birthday…treat my friends…you know, if you’re drinking, it’s easier to let the money slip away. Never mind, you don’t know. Since apparently you don’t touch alcohol.”
He focused on the road. His shoulders seemed to stiffen.
“You do know?” My voice softened, and I cursed myself for sounding like I cared. I hurried to fill the silence. “Anyway, the usual stuff. My best friend borrows from me a lot. What am I going to say, no? I bought my boyfriend — my ex — presents. I like being generous.”
“So your friends treat you like a bank, and you buy everyone pizza so they’ll like you.”
I slapped my purse onto my lap and glared straight ahead at the bright white snow. “You probably track every cent. Keep a fucking spreadsheet. Tossing that money around last night was like — the dirtiest porn for you. Your car tells me everything I need to know.”
He shrugged. “You don’t like my car, you can walk.”
“We’re done talking, Patrick.”
He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, amused.
Buildings rose around us as we drove into the center of town. When I pointed to a street corner, Patrick pulled up to the curb.
I retied my scarf and grabbed my purse, ready to make my exit, but I couldn’t leave without having the last word.
“Well, thanks for the ride. Now I know what it’s like to come all night long.” God, in my attempt to avoid the wave of total awkwardness, I crashed right into it.
Patrick’s brows drew together. Then he leaned his forehead on the steering wheel, his broad shoulders shaking with laughter.
