Everything inside of me tells me not to get into this sportscar. But I don’t know how to get myself out of it, so I get inside after he opens the passenger door. A gentleman. Just before he opens the driver’s door, I take a deep breath, filling my lungs with air.
I sit with my hands folded in my lap and fail in my efforts to not stare at how his hands move as he drives the spotless and fresh-smelling car. Ray is always leaving a mess in my car.
“Where to, Violet?” he asks.
“Hm?”
“Where’s your office?”
“Oh!” I shake off my daze and tell him where I work.
We’re evidently going the wrong way, so he pulls a U-turn.
“Sorry,” I apologize. “Should’ve said sooner.”
“No biggie,” he replies softly.
“Sorry,” I repeat.
“Violet.” We stop at a red light; his eyes are on me. “Not a big deal.”
I pull my lips tight. I keep overreacting and I’m embarrassed.
The light feels like it takes forever. There’s a weirdness in the atmosphere. I feel his eyes on me and I keep mine firmly fixed on the stoplight, glowing red, setting off an alarm inside me. Like a warning.
“You’re not wearing an engagement ring,” he observes.
The light turns green and we’re moving again.
I stare at my hands. I’ve got a birthstone ring on my right ring finger. My left hand is naked.
“No. We, um, never got that far.”
“Haven’t?”
“Pardon?” I look at him.
He’s frowning.
“You haven’t gotten that far, or you never did get that far?”
My lips part but nothing comes out.
“Never got that far indicates you won’t go that distance. Your phrasing makes it sound like you and Ray are history instead of makin’ plans.”
My body jerks in response and I feel like I might vomit.
Shit. Shit.
“I don’t blame you,” he says. “Guy’s a fuckin’ loser.”
I swallow, unsure of how to respond to that.
“You’re not defending him. This tells me a lot. A woman has every right to be pissed at me for badmouthing her man. You’re not pissed. You’re flipped out.”
Moments pass with nothing but awkwardness. We’re almost to my job. My hands are sweaty. My throat is dry. Not to mention that my heart is galloping in my chest.
Killian speaks again, “You think me ‘n Ray are friends so you can’t say anything, but it’s obvious what’s happening with you two. You’re in the middle of breaking up and he lied about it last night. Tried to play it off like you two are good.”
I blow out a breath.
“Am I right?”
“Well...”
“You on the verge of gettin’ rid? Anything you say to me is between us, Violet.”
My mouth fails me. Again.
I am making an idiot of myself here. How does he know this? If it’s that obvious to a perfect stranger, why isn’t it obvious to Ray?
Awkward silence follows until Killian stops at the curb out front of my office building and leans over toward me, making me jerk tight. He opens the glove box and pulls out a little leather bifold.
“We grew up on the same turf, we have that history. But Violet… I’m not his friend. You see me in three years?”
I shake my head.
“No, you haven’t. Because he’s not my friend and I have no loyalty to that fuckin’–” He lets that hang.
Our eyes meet and I try to tear my gaze away, but I can’t seem to do it. Green eyes are burning into mine, holding me in an invisible but steel grip. His nostrils flare.
“Don’t stress. I won’t say anything to that guy about this little conversation. Here.” He pulls a business card out of the leather bifold and places it in my hand. “Use it if you need to.”
I blink at the card, feeling like my throat is dusty. I need to get out of this car, now, before I say things I shouldn’t. Before I fall to pieces.
“Thank you for the ride. And for being so nice to me.” I quickly get out of the car and shut it, then rush toward the door, tripping on a sewer grate but catching myself before I take a complete tumble. My coffee, however, does a slosh out of the mouth-hole of my cup and singes my hand as well as soaks Killian’s card, which falls. I all but tackle it before the wind can carry it away. I cringe at the burn and put the soggy business card into my pocket before I hurry toward the entrance, swiping my burning and wet hand across my coat. As I get to the revolving door, I glance over my shoulder and see Killian is idling at the curb, still, eyes aimed at me. He’s seen it all. The fumble, the fight to keep composure, and the overwhelming urge to rescue that business card.
Strange though. It’s not like I’d ever use it. Why was it so important to me to save it?