Page 105 of Love Me Stalk Me
She changes lanes.
No blinker.
I inhale sharply.
I have been in actual warzones that felt less dangerous than this.
A red light approaches, and I brace, preparing for impact. My muscles tense instinctively.
Sure enough—hard brake.
I grip the handrail even tighter.
"Jesus, Russo," I mutter under my breath.
She scoffs, oblivious to the absolute terror she's putting me through. "You're so dramatic."
I don't answer. I'm too busy trying to predict my own death.
"Take that right," I say, pointing toward a street ahead.
She misses the turn. The intersection fades behind us as she continues straight.
"Or...not," I murmur.
"Where am I even going?" she asks, glancing over at meinstead of the road.
"To my apartment?"
"Yeah, I know that, genius, but which way?"
I rub my temples. "Left up here."
She speeds up. The engine revs as she accelerates, cutting through traffic.
"Izzy."
"I got it!" she says, annoyed.
She barely makes the turn, her wheels hugging the curb a little too closely for my comfort. The tires screech against the pavement.
"Okay, maybe a little less confidence," I say under my breath.
She huffs.
I breathe through the impending sense of doom. The Lincoln Tunnel looms ahead, the entrance taking us from New Jersey back into Manhattan. The underground passage feels like a fitting metaphor—we're literally descending into hell.
And yet, despite all of this, I decide this is something I can overlook.
Because one day, when she belongs to me, she'll be my passenger princess.
She won't have to white-knuckle the wheel or pretend she knows how to navigate Manhattan traffic.
No, she'll be right where she belongs.
Next to me.
Feet up on the dash, looking over at me with that smug little smirk, knowing I'll get us wherever we need to go.
