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Seriously, is he talking about my health? I frown and watch him walk away. So, what? That’s it?
“Did you call someone?” I continue, ignoring his command.
His shoulders tense a little more as he turns to me.
“I managed to reach a buddy I was supposed to meet—but who, unfortunately, is drunk—just before my cell phone went dead. But I’ll manage, don’t worry about me, I’m not a damsel in distress.”
In spite of myself, his grumpy expression makes me laugh. So that’s it? He doesn’t want a girl to come and help him? I guess that would hurt his male pride. Taking it on the chin, I finally say, “I accept to help you. Come on, get in.”
When he doesn’t move, I glare at him.
“I can drop you at your friend’s house, if you want. You’re not going to stay here indefinitely. Your death would be on my conscience.”
He’s still watching me intensely, as if he doesn’t know what to think. I get into the car, slam my door, and turn the heater on full blast while I wait. A second later, the passenger side door opens. He climbs into my car, taking over the whole space in a second. The smell of rain mingles with a more masculine scent, and I try to ignore it as I start up again and his car disappears from our view.
“Shit,” he sighs while massaging his temples with his fingertips.
He gives me his friend’s address, then a silence invades the car. I feel his gaze on my profile and try to ignore it.
At a red light, I turn to him, wondering why he is staring at me. My eyes catch his. I don’t look away, and neither does he. His eyebrows furrow again as he analyzes every detail of my face. I do the same and notice a small cut on his lower lip. I don’t ask any questions. We are not friends, he and I. I don’t know him, and his life is none of my business.
So I also refrain from asking him his name, not wanting to really engage him in conversation.
I start again and stare at the road, trying to ignore his presence beside me. His hands are placed on his thighs, powerful and wide.
“Where are you from?” he finally asks, in a low but perfectly audible voice.
I run my tongue over my lips, caught off guard. I didn’t expect him to start the dialogue, given our previous confrontations.
“Portland.”
He whistles softly. “And you came to Denver to get lost?”
“Well, Denver doesn’t seem like a lost city to me,” I reply.
“Why here?”
I shrug, refusing to answer his question. I don’t want to reveal myself, to open up to him. It would give him a power over me that I am not ready to give up.
We quickly arrive in front of his friend’s house. Despite the bad weather, the rain has finally stopped, and I see some students partying on the front lawn.
I park and wait for the tall, dark-haired guy to get out of the car. He puts his hand on the door handle, but turns to me.
“Do you want to come?”
I glance outside and shake my head. I know these parties, although the ones I’ve been to in the past have been way more extreme. He seems surprised by my refusal, as if he’s not used to being told no.
I’m startled when someone knocks on the passenger side window.
“Hey, buddy, where have you been?” exclaims a tall blond man, leaning into the passenger seat once the door is open.
The guy then sees me behind the wheel, and his eyes start to shine as he jumps to conclusions. He looks quite tipsy and holds a half-full cup in one hand.
“Oh, I understand…yeah,” he says. “You and Tucker were busy. I’m TJ.”
Tucker. So I can put a name to the guy sitting next to me. I raise an eyebrow and retort coldly, “Absolutely not busy, TJ. I just played cab driver.”
Tucker smiles softly at my grumpy expression but still doesn’t move from the seat.
