She smirks when I push my curls away from my forehead, then runs the tip of her tongue over her bottom lip when I take a quick drag of my cigarette before smirking right back at her.
I knowofher, of course, but I don’t exactlyknowher. And I’m sure with the way she’s looking at me – with intrigue and something else I can’t really put a finger on – she’s on the same page in context to me.
A movement on the left catches my eye, and when I glance at it, I feel my back stiffen. I clench my jaw as I stare at the man next to Cignette.
Gavin Langford.
He regards me coolly, as if he holds some kind of power over me, which is hysterical, to be quite honest.
What a gullible little fuck.
I glance at Cignette again, and find that she’s studying me with apt interest.
What the hell are you doing with this dumpster rat?I wanna question.Why the fuck are you here withhim?
But it’s not my place to ask any of those things to her. It’s none of my damn business.
My right hand itches to touch my switchblade that’s in the front pocket of my jeans, but I refrain the urge and face Cignette again. “How can I help ya?” I ask her clinically, as if I’m not thinking of all the ways I wanna cause physical harm to the man next to her.
“Her car won’t start,” Gavin responds.
I clench and unclench my free hand to release some of my anger upon hearing his voice, then take one last drag of my cigarette before killing it under my boot.
Both Gavin and Cignette watch my every move, and when I take a few steps in the latter’s direction, Gavin instinctively shifts closer to her.
I laugh, then –actuallylaugh – because I can’t help it. Man, he’s so damn stupid.
Cignette presses her lips together as she glances between Gavin and I, then clears her throat and says, “He’s right; my car won’t start.” I realize that this close, I can easily smell her citrusy perfume, see her unblemished skin better, and look closely into those depthless eyes of hers.
I nod, then glance over her shoulders – at the car in question – and run a hand over my mouth to hide a grin.
A fuckingpinkCadillac.
Accurate, I suppose, given her status.
I look down at her. “Keys.”
She straightens, which brings her even closer to me.
I watch, helplessly transfixed, as her eyelids flutter, her lashes brush against her slightly flushed cheeks, and her chest rises and falls at a hypnotic rhythm as she pulls her keys out of her shorts and offers them to me.
“I can show y–” Gavin interrupts, but I cut him off with a glare.
“Don’t fucking talk,” I tell him.
He tries to do just that, but I step back and make my way over to the Cadillac.
I get into the plush driver’s seat, put the key into the ignition, and turn it, but that does absolutely nothing. There’s no lights, no radio, no nothing. I repeat the process, and hear a barely audible clicking sound.
Gotcha.
“The battery’s dead,” I announce, then get out of the car.
Cignette purses her lips. “So…that means you’ll have to…”
“I’ll have to replace it, yeah,” I say.
“How long’s that gonna take?” Gavin asks, just to further grate at my nerves. “We can leave the car here and come back for it later.”
