Shaking my head and wiping away any stray tears, I straighten my spine and face Dimitri. He points to the open passenger side door, and I hesitate. Then, he takes a step forward, outstretching his hand, ready to grab me and force me into his car, just like he threatened earlier, but I sidestep him and move towards the vehicle. If we’re going to do this, we’re doing it my way.
Dimitri lets out a deep sigh as he watches me walk to his car and climb into the passenger’s seat. The car is old, vintage, but in pristine condition. I know he takes care of it. That’s one thing about Dimitri — he doesn’t take anything for granted, because he wasn’t raised with the luxury of wealth. Sure, his dad has some power here, but they’re not made of money like my family. I’m sure if I crashed a car, my father would just replace it without blinking an eye. But Dimitri had to work for this car. It wasn’t given to him. And if he would happen to wreck it, well, let’s just say it would be a while before he could get another one.
He takes pride in his things, and I can admire that. That’s probably the only thing I’ll ever admire about him, however. Everything else he does drives me up the wall. And I fear by the time I’m thirty and have been married to him for several years, I might be mad and locked up in a loony bin somewhere.
Dimitri leans down, reaching for my seatbelt. My breath catches in my lungs as he moves closer, his eyes darting down to my lips and then back up to my eyes as he buckles me in. God, he smells so good, like a woodsy cologne and tobacco. Masculine and rough. I don’t think we’ve ever been this close before, and I take advantage of it, studying his thick, black hair and every little freckle on his face. I had no idea he had freckles.
Once the belt clicks in place, he quickly straightens andcloses my door, effectively sealing me inside. I take that moment to breathe again. Then, I watch in the mirror as he walks around the back of the car, his steps even and determined. I keep my gaze straightforward as he climbs in the driver’s seat and revs the engine before putting it in gear and taking off down the road.
“I’m g-going to g-get your s-s-seat wet,” I inform him, almost hoping he’ll stop and let me out.
“Don’t care,” he says, surprising me. Then, he reaches for an unopened bottle of water in the cupholder between us and pushes it into my lap. “Drink it,” he demands.
God, he’s always so brash and demanding. But I open it and drink anyway. Not to please him, but because I’m feeling desperately thirsty and dehydrated. I drink as much as I can before I put it back in the cupholder. A cold chill runs through me, and I shiver as I wrap my arms tightly around my middle.
Dimitri reaches over and cranks the heat even though I can see the beads of sweat forming on his forehead. Why is he being nice all of a sudden? Oh my god, does he think I’m going to give him something in return for this ride? I really hope not, because it’sdefinitelynot going to happen.
“I’ll p-p-pay you for g-gas,” I offer, hoping that will appease him.
“Don’t want your money,” he says.
He drives for miles with the uncomfortable silence stretching between us. And when I can’t stand it any longer, I blurt out, “Why do you h-h-hate me so m-much?”
His dark brows knit together as he lets out a puff of air in a scoff. “If I hated you, Savina, you would already be dead.”
His words catch me off-guard, and I turn to stare at him. He doesn’t smile or laugh. He’s serious. Deadly serious. Another shiver runs through me, and he cranks up the heat even more. But it’s not the cold giving me chills. It’s him.
Neither of us speak for a while. The tension inside the car is suffocating, so I decide to ask him thequestion that’s been on my mind for the past hour. “Why d-d-did you p-push me into the p-p-pool?”
“To keep you from doing something stupid,” he says as if it’s obvious.
I roll my eyes at him. “To k-keep me from d-d-drinking at a high school p-party? Everyone was d-d-drinking.”
“You just don’t get it,” he says with a shake of his head.
“Then enlighten m-me,” I offer softly.
“I’d rather just drop you off and say goodnight,privighetoare mica.”
Folding my arms across my chest, I sit in angry silence. The heat is starting to feel good against my skin, and it’s slowly drying my dress.
His cell phone suddenly vibrates and lights up in the center console. As quickly as the call coming through ends, his phone begins to vibrate again. Dimitri glances at it, and a deep frown mars his face.
“You c-can t-t-take it, if it’s important,” I tell him cautiously.
“It’s my father.”
“Oh.”
I’m surprised when he keeps talking. “I was supposed to be somewhere tonight, but I ditched my responsibilities to go to the party,” he explains.
“I d-didn’t even know you w-w-were invited,” I start.
“I wasn’t,” he says, effectively cutting me off.
My brows knit together in confusion. Why would he show up at the party if he wasn’t invited? I mean, people crash parties all the time, but Dimitri doesn’t seem the type to just show up to something like that. Before I can question him further, we’re pulling onto my street.
“I hope my s-s-stepmother isn’t awake,” I grumble.
