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I sigh and reach back, grabbing on to the plastic bag and pulling it onto my lap.
Ah yes, the signature treats. Skylar has only been with me a few weeks, but he seems to have studied me well enough. Junk food is my weakness. It’s better than sex…well, the sex I’ve had. Give me Gobstoppers any day.
I rip open a bag of Corn Nuts and shove a handful into my mouth, crunching down on them loudly. So crunchy, so salty. Going to give my kidneys a run for their money.
Skylar doesn’t even look over at me as I wipe my hand on my shirt.
“How long will we be staying up there?”
“Not long. We keep moving until your father tells me otherwise.”
I shift in my seat, feeling more and more agitated. Part of me envisions myself crawling onto his lap and sinking my teeth into his shoulder, but then I’m sure he’d crash and I’d be flung from the window like a rag doll. I prefer not to die like that.
When I die, it will be on my own terms.
“You know,” I say around a mouthful of Corn Nuts, “Elio doesn’t really know it was me who did all that shit. He has no proof. He’s just making insinuations. Just a big faker.”
“And yet, here we are,” Skylar mutters.
I narrow my eyes at him. “My father is just overprotective. He doesn’t like to mess around when it comes to me or Angel.”
Skylar doesn’t respond and it irritates me more than it should. I don’t want to go to a cabin in the woods and hang out with this guy. He annoys me.
I’m goddamn annoyed.
I chuck a Corn Nut at his head and watch it bounce off his temple. I really love these things and hate to waste them, but I feel slightly better now. I should chuck a few more.
So I do. Five more to be exact.
Skylar doesn’t even flinch. Just keeps those big hands right where they are, at ten and two.
I wonder what I could do to get him to wrap those hands around my cock and make me scream.
My dick jerks at the thought, and I glower at it. Annoying little thing. There is no way in hell I’m doing anything withSkylar. I won’t let him touch me. Not with those big strong hands or that undoubtedly big-ass dick. Not only is Skylar too professional to stoop that low, but my dad would probably kill him if he did. Would just gut him navel to neck.
I’m not interested in him anyways. But I would like to watch him lose control. To lose all rational thought and go feral.
That alone wouldmaybebe worth it.
I shake the bag of Corn Nuts into my mouth and then crunch them all down. When I’m finished with those, I rummage around and pull out some Skittles.
“I hate these,” I lie as I shake the bag. “Hate them. Foul candy.”
He doesn’t even blink. So I rip open the bag and pour some into my hand. Part of me debates shoving them down his shirt or the front of his pants.
But I’d hate for them to go to waste, so I pop them into my mouth and chew loudly. It’s a skill, really. I’ve honed it for many, many years. Drives my father up a wall.
I peek over at Skylar who just reaches toward the radio and turns on some music. Probably to drown out my smacking lips.
I smack louder. Just the smackiest.
He turns it up until the bass is pounding through the car and I’m smiling like a loon.
Hm, fucker. Got you.
* * *
We drive like this for a while, me making my way through the bag of snacks and Skylar’s gaze laser-focused on the road. Thankfully, I have an extremely high metabolism, or I’d be as round as my Uncle Mateo. I’ll consume this entire bag of snacks and not even put on a pound. That’s the only good thing about it, to be honest. I look like a skinny preteen.
