“Notthat.”
“A cab it is, then.”
He nods and patiently waits as I take out my phone to find a number and call. The woman explains it’ll take a while since it’s Halloween night, and when I repeat it to Lex, he disapprovingly groans.
“This is ridiculous. I can be home in ten minutes. I’m not waiting half an hour to get a cab.”
Before he can open his door, I snatch the keys from his hands, safely holding them behind my back. His initial surprise doesn’t last long as he stares at me with impatience. Shit. He’s so much bigger than me that I can’t win this—no matter how drunk he is.
“I’ll drive you,” I impulsively decide, knowing it’s my last chance to not let him take the wheel and kill himself or someone else. “You’ve done it for me in the past. Let me return the favor.”
“Are you sure you can drive?” he asks, skeptical.
“I’ve only had water. And a coke.”
He thinks about it, his brilliant mind slower because of the booze, and then agrees with a single nod. Fuck. This will be pure torture, won’t it? But it’s better than the alternative.
Stepping aside, he opens the door for me. “No, we’re taking my car so I can come back after,” I explain. It takes him a second to understand the logic of what I’m saying, but he must get it because he closes the door.
“I’m parked a little farther, less than a block,” I say, locking his car. “But I need to go back to the bar. My keys are in Tami’s clutch.”
Just as I’m about to turn on my heels, I’m reminded of the mission I gave myself. “Did you get to vote?” I ask him.
“Vote?”
“For the best costume.”
“Oh, no. I didn’t really care.”
“Good. What’s your number?”
“My number?”
“Yeah, the number you’re supposed to use to vote.”
“It was four-seven-six. Why?”
“I’m using it.”
“That’s electoral fraud.”
I almost snort at the absurdity of his concern, but realize he’s joking. “I’ll be right back,” I explain, spinning around.
It takes less than a minute in the bar to cast a vote for Tami, get my keys from her, and explain I’m taking care of someone too drunk to drive and will be back soon. Once I return to the Mercedes, I find Lex leaning against it, his muscular arms crossed over his broad torso, the Superman logo still partially visible.
Being stuck in my small Ford with a drunk Lex dressed as Superman is the worst possible combination. There’s no way I’m not relapsing at some point. He’s irresistible with his fucking glasses and all. This isn’t good. Not good at all.Damn it…
The walk down the block is eerily silent. We used to talk all the time, but now it feels like we have nothing to say to one another. When we reach my car, Lex all but glares at it. “You still have your shit car,” he notes. I roll my eyes and open the door for him. It’s a little tricky, and I don’t want him to have more things to complain about.
“I still do, yes.”
“Can that pile of rust even start?”
“It works perfectly fine. Get in.”
He diligently complies and sits in the passenger seat. I close the door behind him and walk around the car. As I enter it, I do a little prayer for it to start on the first try. It hasn’t been very cooperative lately, and I don’t want Lex to make fun of me again.
“Your car smells weird,” he points out, reaching for the scented palm trees hanging under my rearview mirror. “You need more trees.”
