Page 60 of For You, Sir

“What’s got you so distracted?” Einar asked.

“Nothing.”

“You look jumpy as hell.”

I smiled weakly. “I’ve had too much caffeine today.”

He sighed through his nose and removed his hand from my knee. “Why are you lying to me?”

My heart constricted in my chest. My fragile house of cards was already collapsing inwards.

“You think I’m going to embarrass you,” Einar said.

“No, Sir!”

“Then what’s your problem?” He furrowed his brow, looking unconvinced. “You’re squeezing the wheel again and clenching your teeth.”

Dammit, I was. I unclenched and drew a breath. “I’m worriedmy brother’s going to embarrass me.” A half-truth, at best.

“I worked in Hollywood, remember?” Einar said with a smirk. “I’ve got a high tolerance for asshole behavior.”

I prickled at his flippancy. “I’m being serious here.”

“I am, too,” he said. “If your family are jerks, that’s no reflection on you.”

“Then I’m worried you’ll thinkI’ma jerk, okay?” I blurted. “There’s a lot of stuff you don’t know about me. You’d like me less if you did!” The pressure in my chest grew, and my eyes burned.

After a moment of silence, he said, “Try me. How many corpses have you got buried in the backyard?”

I shot him an angry glare.

“If it’s over six, I’m going to tuck and roll out of the car right now,” he added.

My voice was strained. “That isn’t funny.”

“It’snotfunny,” he agreed. “I’m saying whatever’s bothering you is probably not as bad as you think. You’ve got a habit of beating yourself up over nothing.”

“It’s notnothing.Stop being condescending.”

He winced. “Sorry.” He drew a breath. “I just wish you’d tell me. I want to know more about you.”

No, you don’t. Not this.

“Whatever it is, I can handle it,” he promised.

I shook my head, unable to speak.

“Jesus, Jun.” He clicked his tongue and looked out the window again.

The purr of the engine and whoosh of air conditioning filled the silence. Chain-link fences and run-down strip malls whizzed past the windows—a dirty town for dirty people.

I needed a fucking cigarette.

“You don’t have to pretend you’re perfect, you know.” Einar probed his finger along the rubber seal on the window frame, not looking at me. “You’ve already seen me at my worst, but you want me to believe you’re just fine?”

“I never said that.”

“Then why don’t you open up to me?” He furrowed his brow, wounded. “You won’t let me in to your problems, and it sucks.”

---