Page 32 of Vows of Betrayal

Dammit.

I wandered around to the side where I usually parked—but no crappy brown car.

Then I walked down to the far end and—yay! Crappy brown car.

It really looked like a piece of crap. Literally.

When I'd told Stefan that last week, he'd laughed and said it couldn't be that bad. But when I'd described it to him, he said, “Hmm, maybe you do drive a hunk of shit, Chesca.”

Even if it looked horrible, it still got me from point A to B.

Mostly.

A lot of times it crapped out halfway there or back. And I had to do some fiddling under the hood with this or that. Lately, it'd been overheating on me. So, I kept a few extra bottles of water on the floor of the passenger side.

I still felt plenty lucky to have a car. Even if it was a piece of crap.

I swiftly rushed up to my car. I hated parking lots. They always gave me the creeps. I unlocked my door and slipped in. After I chucked my sweater and my bag onto the passenger seat, I started my car. Or at least I tried to.

It took a minute of pumping and careful timing—but I eventually got it to start. “Thank you, crappy brown car. You can do it. Come on!” I backed out of the parking spot and my car threatened to choke out.

“No, no, no. It's been a bad day. I need to get home. Please,” I begged my car.

And luckily, it listened.

As I drove, my mind quickly fell back to what—or more like, who—I constantly had on my mind.

Stefan.

The words that he'd said to me today. “You're mine” being at the top of that list. That was the phrase that had really floored me.

Did he actually mean that? Or was he just looking for someone to help look after him while he got back on his feet again?

Someone who'd also make out with him and allow him to come all over my—

“Gah, you need to stop thinking about him. Stop!” I yelled at myself in the otherwise quiet car.

I reached over and turned on the crappy radio. It was stuck on one station. No matter what I did, it stayed there.

It was a lite-rock FM station. So, it wasn't horrible, but it wasn't anything great.

Of course, with my luck, they started playing a bunch of sappy love songs. About the one who got away. And seeing your ex-lover again, years later with their wife and family.

The thought of bumping into Stefan on the street one day with his wife and kids—

Oh, crap.

That would kill.

Tears started streaming down my face. Seeing the road ahead became difficult.

That didn't matter.

I just kept crying harder and harder. Until my car decided to crap out.

“Gah, dammit. Stupid car!” I shouted and hit the steering wheel with my hands. I pulled over to the side of the road. At least it let me do that much before completely petering out. Steam was pouring from under the hood. I leaned over to grab a few bottles of water and jumped out of the car. The hood was hot, and I had to be careful not to burn myself.

I opened the waters and dumped them in the appropriate place. Then I closed everything up again and stomped back to the driver's side. I got in and turned the key. It wouldn't start. A few minutes later, it finally did, though.

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