Page 7 of Perfect

Biting my lip, I decided I would not speak until spoken to.

The cab was messy, with old takeaway wrappers and crunched-up coke cans. There was also an oily rag and some letters scattered across the dash. I turned my nose up as Ihatedmess. A place for everything and everything in its place was my MO. Benjamin Frankin said it best.

My knees jerked as Connor leaned his huge torso over my legs and opened the glove compartment. As he fumbled inside, I saw him smile at my reaction to his nearness; fricking cocksure sod.

I managed to hold on to my gasp of disgust as I saw his hand slide past an open box of condoms. Thoughts of how many girls he’d shagged in that very car contaminated my mind.

Finally, he drew out a phone, shoved the flap closed and pushed back into his seat. I released a puff of air I hadn’t realised I was holding.

Connor swiped the screen, tapped it, and then pushed the phone to his ear whilst he revved the engine; clearly good at multitasking.

“Yes. I’ve got her,” he said with the phone tucked into his shoulder. I couldn’t hear what the voice on the other side said but Connor scowled.

“Fine. Whatever.”

Connor then grabbed the phone and pushed it into a pocket of his shirt. He gave me a brief look, before turning towards the windscreen and ramming the car into gear.

It shot forward, startling me and again, my reaction amused him.

At this rate, the chances of us getting along would have been up there with winning the lottery.

I took a deep breath and told myselfnotto cry.

Two

We sat in silence as Connor roughly changed gears. I felt very aware of his thighs so close to my own. He gripped the steering wheel so tightly that his gnarled knuckles were white.

My jaw ached from how tightly my teeth were clenched. I felt so small next to that large frame. My stepbrother sucked all the air out of the car, so much so that I wanted to roll down the window and stick my head out.

My plan of not speaking until spoken to soon failed. Ihateduncomfortable silences.

“So where is Dad? Is he OK?” I asked eventually, wanting to ease some of the tension.

He flicked me a moody glare.

“Do you have no concern for your safety? Put your fucking seatbelt on,” he growled. “Or does your driver usually do that for you?”

I tutted, “I don’t have a driver and you didn’t answer my question.”

His lip curled into a sneer, “Beltnow,” he repeated gruffly. The commanding tone sent an unwanted thrill through me. Bossy much?

I clipped my seatbelt on as we pulled out into traffic and waited patiently.

An icy silence stretched.

“Well?” I huffed. Wondering if he was being evasive on purpose. Was my father ill?

“Why the sudden concern?”

Connor appeared to be one of those people who answered a question with a question. Another mark against him, “I’m sorry?”

He shot me another sideways glance before refocusing on the road. “You should be. You haven’t given a shit for the last year.”

My jaw dropped at his rudeness. My God, he was spoiling for a fight. The guy clearly got off on confrontations.

Fury jetted into my system, to the point where it was almost painful; he had crossed the line and I wanted to scream at him.

“I don’t think my relationship with my father has anything to do with you,” I bit out, my voice wobbling slightly. He must have heard the tremor as he shifted awkwardly in his seat and jammed the vehicle into a higher gear.

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