Page 102 of Collision
“Well, I’d say you were both stupid, then.” I look at him, stifling a laugh.
Thomas rests his cheek against my head and mutters something unintelligible in a thick voice. I load him into the car and I lean over him to buckle his seat belt. “Always so cautious…” he teases me with a slightly crooked smile on his face. Even dead drunk, he remains irresistible.
“You can never be too careful,” I tell him firmly. I turn my head in his direction and find myself just inches from his face.
“I agree. Why don’t you stay in this position and make sure everything is…rock solid,” he murmurs, reducing his voice to a sensual hiss.
What?
It takes me a few moments to grasp his meaning, but when I get there, I immediately pull myself out of the passenger seat, banging my head against the roof in my haste.
“Ouch!” I rub my head, wrinkling my nose. He explodes with laughter. “You’re such a pervert!” I say, punching him lightly in the shoulder. I walk around the car and get in the driver’s seat. There’s a huge gap between my feet and the pedals, so I slide the seat as far forward as I can, raise the seat higher and then I adjust the side mirrors.
“You’re messing up my whole situation,” he protests, frowning.
Listen to him—I’m messing up his “situation.”
“Maybe you’ll think about that next time before you get wasted at my workplace,” I admonish him.
He doesn’t answer but only closes his eyes and rests his head against the slightly open window. I place Logan’s chocolates in the center console and notice Thomas looking at them askance.
“Who gave you those?”
“Logan.”
A kind of angry huff escapes from his throat. He grabs the box with his usual casual entitlement. For a moment, I’m afraid he’s going to fling it out the window. Instead he flips it over. “ Caramel…” he mumbles. “He doesn’t know shit even when it comes to chocolates.” He opens the box and, without asking permission, unwraps a piece and brings it to his mouth.
“Hey!”
“What?”
“He got those for me.”
“I’ll have to send my apology in writing,” he taunts, plucking another one.
“Didn’t you just say they sucked?”
“I need the sugar.”
Sure, right. He devours each chocolate with a sinister satisfaction that gives me the shivers. It’s as though the box of caramels has somehow wronged him.
I decide not to push it. Thomas is drunk, and I don’t really want to argue.
The trip is smooth, the streets are empty and silent, and this car drives like a dream.
“Ness, you need to know something,” he mutters after a while. “Something that’ll piss you off. A lot.” He takes a pause and I see him looking at me sideways.
“What?” I demand with my eyes fixed on the road. Now I’m on high alert.
“This afternoon, while you were sleeping… That dickhead wouldn’t stop calling you.”
It only takes me a few seconds to understand what he’s saying and, before he even finishes explaining himself, I’m braking hard. The wheels slip on the asphalt, and the car skids slightly.
“What the fuck, are you crazy?!” He straightens up, pale, and looks wildly in all directions. “Somebody could have run into us! Get out, you’re a hazard. I’m driving!” He fumbles with his seat belt and moves to get out of the car, but I activate the child safety locks and stop him.
“Don’t you dare get out of that fucking seat, Thomas!” I yell, surprising him with my language. I pull over, unbuckle my seat belt, and lean toward him, my eyes smoldering with rage. “Did you or did you not put your hands on my phone?”
“I was trying to tell you.”
