As Electra fiddles with the radio dial, trying to land on music instead of commercials, Dorian’s warning not to hurt her clips my eardrums.
I kept expecting him to sayagain, but he didn’t. Electra mustn’t have told him that a few days ago, I caused her to weep.
“Success,” she says, smiling.
The song that she drags out of the speaker is unfamiliar to me, but I like the raspy quality of the woman’s voice. Makes me think of Electra’s.
“So what did my big bad brother have to say?”
My eyes flick her way—first to her face, then to her lap. “Just said that if I hurt you, he’d hurt me.”
“Better not hurt me, then.”
My throat bobs. She, too, doesn’t sayagain. Was the disaster all in my head?
Instead of making her a promise I can’t keep, I say, “I’m sorry.”
Electra tilts her head.
“For hurting you. For reacting the way I did.” I spear my fingers through my hair, wishing I had a cap to hide the mess.
“How did you react?”
I lower my hand back to the steering wheel. “Like an insensitive asshole.”
She slides her elbow onto the armrest built into the car door and props her head on her fingertips. “You didn’t act orreact like an insensitive asshole. But I have wondered why tearing into a useless piece of flesh is such a big deal to you.”
I blink. “Because it was your first time. Because I got to be your first.”
“It’s funny. You talk about it like it’s some sort of honor, yet you look just as appalled as you did back in the camper.”
“I wasn’t—I’mnotappalled, Electra.” The words flog the air with a force that all but blows back the dark strands framing her unreadable face. “What I was, was shocked. I don’t know why I assumed you’d have experience, but I did.”
She tenses. Even her pupils seem to contract. “Is that a turnoff?”
I snort. “Nothing about you is a turnoff.”
Even though I don’t say it to stroke her ego, my comment seems to soften the tension in her shoulders. If only I, too, could get rid of all my tension.
“I’ve been torturing myself with this, but I need to know: Did anything happen between you and Malachi when you got back to your place?”
Electra’s pupils dilate, then shrink like miniature hearts. “Yeah. We fought. He told me not to trust you. I told him to kindly fuck off.”
An odd warmth spreads through my chest. “You chose me?”
“I chose to make my own decisions.”
Why would I have preferred her to say she chose me when I’ve already got her in my car, and we’re already heading home together? Why do I need her to admit she wants me as much as I want her?
My fingers cramp from how hard I squeeze my steering wheel.
“Like going out dancing tonight,” she says. “Like inviting you back to my place. Like wearing your hat.”
I glare at the sea of cars in front of us.
“What’s with the frown?” she asks, almost playfully, like she’s trying to get a rise out of me.
I almost grit out: “I chose you, so it’d be nice if you chose me back,” but wouldn’t that be a lie? Trenton picked Electra for me. I just went along with it because one glance at her file had me wanting to get close.
