He’s talking about my drunk driving, isn’t he.
My fingers traced the scar on my thigh through my dress. “It’s fine…I get why you did.” I slowly looked back at him. “Can I have one?”
Forsythe refused to take his eyes off the road and pulled a small pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket. “Here.” He handed me a single cigarette. “You’ll have to get my lighter.” He pointed to his front right jean pocket, and I noticed the bulge. “Unfortunately, your brother’s truck is so damn old, the lighter doesn’t work.”
My body scooted across the bench seat until I was pressed against him. He lifted his right arm, giving me just enough room. My hand hesitated as his scent, mixed with the smell of cigarettes, filled my nostrils. My heart began to race a little, and I had to hold my breath just to focus. I bit my lip as my fingers reached inside his front pocket. His entire body seemed to tense as my hand made its way further inside. It was so warm, and as I stretched to go even deeper, my body leaned more into him, and for a moment, I swear I heard a faint groan.
What is wrong with me? Just grab the damn lighter!
My fingers curled around the lighter, and I quickly pulled back, scooting all the way over to the passenger door. I rolled the window down and pressed my lips around the butt of the cigarette, flicking the lighter until the single flame danced in the evening air, burning the tip.
I wonder if he and that blue-eyed skank ever made any progress.
I blew a mouthful of smoke out the window and offered his lighter back to him. He reached out, touching my hand as he took it back. My body shivered at his warmth, and I pulled my hand back before clearing my throat. “So.” I inhaled the smoke. “I guess I ruined your little date.”
Forsythe scoffed and blew a large mouthful of smoke out the window. “After everything,that’swhat you’re worried about?” He shook his head. “I didn’t realize it was a date.”
I visibly frowned at his response. “What else would you call drinks with a woman?”
“You’re a woman. We had drinks. Does that mean we had a date?”
I nearly choked on the mouthful of smoke, coughing and gagging at his words. “It’s—it’s not the same!” I struggled to breathe.
Why does he always have to tease me?
I smacked my fist against my chest and coughed a bit more. “Why can you never just answer me with an honest response? Why do you always have to find a way to get under my skin?” I groaned.
“I didn’t realize my answer bothered you so much.” He smoked a bit more. “And I did give you an honest answer.”
I shook my head. “No you didn’t. You just hit me with a ridiculous question.”
He smirked. “And?”
I groaned even louder. “Just tell me this, do you like her?” He didn’t answer. “Forsythe?—”
“Why does it even matter if I like Priscilla? Huh? Why are you getting so damn worked up about something so stupid?”
Yup. Stupid. This was all so fucking stupid.
“Forget it.”
He scoffed and shook his head. “No. No, you don’t get to do that.”
“Do what?” I asked sarcastically.
Forsythe’s grip tightened around the wheel, and I noticed his knuckles turn white. “You’re putting those walls back up…hiding.” He changed gears and sped up a little. “Why do you always shut down on me like that?”
“Just fucking forget it,” I groaned. “I’m just being stupid.” I rolled my eyes.
His face tightened. “I never said you were stupid, Lucille. I said you were getting upset over something stupid. ‘Cause that’s exactly what you did. You got all worked up over nothing.”
“Nothing?” I shot up and glared at him, waving my cigarette around as I spoke. “You were flirting with her! I was sitting right there!”
He made a face. “No, I was being civil.”
I scoffed and slouched back in the seat. “What’s the fucking difference?”
“Thedifferenceis, you’llknowwhen I’m flirting. And it won’t be some mundane chitchat or chatter over a fruity fucking cocktail. But thanks for thinking so highly of me.”
