Page 78 of On a Fault Line

“She’s unpredictable.”

“Yeah, I agree. But she did predict you would overreact over this. And as I can see, you totally are.”

“This is the normal reaction, Penny.”

I shrug and take off my lightweight jacket to reveal my new T-shirt that Angie made for me for this very occasion. I can already tell he hates it. So, yay!

I look down at my custom shirt that says,Stop Signs Are Suggestions.

“Look at me.”

“Hmm?”

“You are to follow all of my instructions, Penelope. Understand?”

I pout out my bottom lip but nod. “Fun time is over.”

“That’s correct. You goof around during this first lesson and there won’t be a second. You can continue to be my”—he seems to search for the right word—“passenger princess for the unforeseeable future.”

Except it is foreseeable…

Our entire relationship is built on a fault line, destined to fail at the first rumble of trauma or end after the one hundred days are up.

Regardless, the future is finite for us.

“Press the brakes, start the ignition, and put the car in drive.”

We already had several pre-lessons, so the terminology is fresh in my head. I do as I’m told.

“Use your side mirror and check your blind spot, and when and only when it is clear, pull out onto the road.”

We continue like this, where Collins bosses me around and I comply without hesitation. It is oddly comforting allowing him to take the reins, and I don’t have to overthink anything.

There’s no music.

There’s no small talk to fill the quiet.

I just drive and drive, while Collins provides praise and feedback when necessary.

But when we start getting out of the city and into the more rural parts of the suburbs, I can’t help but look over and admire my view. It literally stabs at my heart to think that the contract whose purpose is to give us the freedom to be together might be the kiss of death for us when it ends.

Can we go back to just being bodyguard and client?

Can we move on with our lives and act like we didn’t just spend one hundred days exploring all parts of our bodies intermingled together?

I don’t think I’ll be able to maintain a professional relationship with him when we’ve been sointimate.

What happens if we can’t stand to be around one another because it’s too painful—traumatic?

“Watch the road, Penny.”

“Hmm?”

“You are moving awfully close to the shoulder.”

“Oh.”

“What has you so distracted?”

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