Damn, she smells good. How could I forget that?
I jog around the front of the car and settle into the driver’s seat, hitting the button to start the car. “You lucked out that I was here. Both Tony and Caleb aren’t around.”
“Yeah. Really lucky,” she says, her voice laced with sarcasm.
What the fuck?
Putting the car into reverse, I back out of the parking spot quickly, my tires squealing when I shift into drive and punch the gas. Ellie grips the handle on the inside of the passenger door, sending me a glare.
“Show off,” she mutters.
Who is this stranger and what did she do with my Ellie?
“You’re the one who’s being kind of rude,” I mutter under my breath as I pull into the drive, coming to a stop. “Left or right?”
“What?” she snaps.
“Which way is your car? Left or right?” I say the words slowly, as if she might not get it.
In other words, I’m being a complete prick.
She glares. “Left.”
I hit the blinker, check both ways for traffic, and when it’s finally clear, I pull out onto the street, hitting the gas hard, the tires squealing again. Even my car’s back end gets a little squirrely.
“You’re driving like an asshole,” she accuses me.
“You’re kind of acting like an asshole.” I let those words sink in for only a few seconds before I continue. “Not cool, considering I’m helping you.”
“I didn’t ask for your help.”
“As if I’m going to tell you no, El. If you need help, I’m going to help,” I say, my voice a little gentler.
She turns her head, staring out the window as we drive. Not saying a word. Which only makes me angrier. What the hell is her problem? Why is she being so hostile toward me? I thought we were cool yesterday. After I played part of my new song for her. She seemed to like it. She was supportive, which was what I needed yesterday. I was feeling a little low, but talking to Ellie always picks me up.
Always.
Until now.
I send her a quick glance, staring at the back of her head, willing her to look my way, but she doesn’t. A loud, long sigh leaves me, but I get nothing.
“Tell me when you see your car,” I say.
Her head moves. The most subtle of nods.
What the fuck ever.
We drive for a few minutes, hitting every single red light along the way. We’re approaching a major intersection when Ellie sits up straight, pointing to the right. “There it is!”
On the opposite side of the road, of course.
I check the roads and, at the last second, swing an illegal U-turn, so I’m on the other side of the street, parking so our cars are nose to nose.
A car speeds past us, making my Mercedes rattle, the driver’s hand thrust out his window, giving me the finger as he honks repeatedly.
“Jackson, oh my God,” Ellie says, sounding frazzled. “That was crazy.”
“I took my shot when I could,” I say with a shrug.