Don't Go There (Awkward Love 5)

I laugh at his logic and stare out the window. He doesn’t get it because he’s probably never been made to look like an idiot or be so embarrassed he doesn’t want to show his face. I bite my lip and grin. That’s actually not a bad idea …

“What did I do, anyway? Steal your lunch money?”

“You started calling her shark,” Darcy helpfully announces. “When people asked why, you said it was because her boobs had sprung from nowhere over summer break. That name stuck like fucking glue and the guys were all trying to feel her up.”

“Fuck. I’m sorry,” he mutters, rubbing his jaw.

“Don’t worry about it,” I say, smiling at him. Though his apology would be more believable if he wasn’t trying not to laugh. “Let’s just move on.”

“Sure,” he murmurs, giving me an easygoing smile. “Moving on sounds good.”

I glance back, ignoring the strange look Darcy is giving me and look at Lily. I stifle a giggle, because she’s coating a nice layer of drool over his expensive leather seats. Adam glances in the mirror and curses under his breath.

“If she throws up, you two are cleaning it,” he informs me, his lips twisting into a wicked smile.

“No thanks.” Darcy shudders. “I don’t do blood. Katie does though,” she adds. “She’s into all that gore. It’s her thing.”

Adam chuckles. “Fetish?”

“Not a fetish,” I snap. “It’s my job. I’m an emergency response cleaner.”

“A what?” He laughs. “That’s a thing? So, someone drops a soda and they have you on speed dial to fly over there with your mop?” He chuckles to himself, like he thinks he’s so hilarious.

“Not exactly.” I shake my head. “I clean crime scenes and other emergency scenes, once the cops and forensics teams are done with them.”

He glances at me, impressed. “Crime scenes, huh? So, are you contracted to the police for that kind of thing, or can anyone book you? Do you, uh, have a business card or something?” he casually asks.

I glare at him until I realize he’s serious.

I’m trapped in a car with a sociopath.

“Sorry, I work for good, not evil,” I retort. “You really got your life on track after getting kicked out of high school, didn’t you?” I layer on the sarcasm much thicker than I intend. “Your parents must be so proud of you.”

“I’m sure they would be if they were still alive.”

I flinch. Great. Now I feel bad for him.

“So how does one get into your line of work?” His eyes sparkle as he looks at me. “You just woke up one day and thought to yourself, ‘I’m wasting my life working in this office when I could be out there cleaning up blood splatter’?”

“Spatter,” I correct.

“What?”

“It’s pronounced spatter. And it’s my uncle’s business,” I explain. “Lily’s father.”

I don’t bother filling him in on the fact that I’m studying forensics, or how cleaning crime scenes that are virtually untouched is really useful for my studies. All he cares about is how far he can make the blood spill. Or should I say splatter.

“Besides,” I grin. “You’re not really in the position to make fun of me over my career choices, are you?” I tease. “At least I’m cleaning up mess, rather than making it.”

“My job pays well and it’s secure employment.” He shrugs. “What’s not to love? And it’s so much more fun making the mess.” He flashes me one of those smiles that I wish wasn’t so damn sexy.

“Maybe for some people,” I mutter. “I personally hate making a mess.”

“The, you’re missing out. Messes can be fun. The best kinds are the ones that leave you all hot and sweaty and sticky, where you need a shower after it—”

“Can we please talk about something else?” I growl, my face heating up.

“Really? Who doesn’t like talking about ice cream?” he asks innocently.

“You get hot and sweaty eating ice cream?”

“Licking,” he corrects. “I make a mess when I lick my ice cream. Don’t you?”

“No, I’m lactose intolerant,” I say with a smirk.

“Since when?” Darcy cuts in.

“I’d forgotten you were in the car,” I say to her, my tone cool.

“It’s the sexual tension the two of you have going on in here,” Darcy replies. “It messes with your ability to think clearly.” She smiles at me when I turn around to glare at her.

She holds up a set of headphones, and then plugs them into her ears.

“Throw something at me if you want me, okay?”

“Can I throw something at you anyway?”

“I’ll be listening to some music,” she adds, ignoring my comment. “I won’t hear a thing.”

I sigh and face the front again. Adam glances my way and gives me a crooked smile that makes my heart thud a little bit faster. I tense, refusing to let myself do that. Thinking about Adam like that is only going to end up with me getting hurt.