“Where are you parked?” Donovan asks as he starts the car. Unlike my Subaru, it doesn’t clank or rattle. I try not to be jealous of this, too, as I dump my laptop bag and heels onto the floorboard.
“Orchard and Dearborn.” I resign myself to glancing in his direction. “That’s where it died on the way to the meeting this morning. I’m going to call AAA, get it jumped or whatever.”
He looks troubled by this, one dark eyebrow rising. “And you’re just going to wait for them in the rain?”
Don’t tell me Ice Man cares about my well-being.“No. I’m going to wait in thecar. It works perfectly fine as a shelter. Just not, you know, as a mode of transportation.”
Donovan doesn’t laugh at my feeble joke. “Oh, okay,” he says, drumming his fingers on the wheel. “Because I can’t wait with you. I have somewhere I have to be.”
I knew his question didn’t stem from concern about a fellow human being. He just didn’t want to beinconvenienced. “No need,” I say, my voice as cold as his. And then we fall into silence as he pulls away from the curb.
I fight the desire to turn on the radio. To roll the window down, despite the rain, just to let some life into this car. To start babbling about something, anything, to break the quiet. I actually sit on my hands to stop myself from reaching for the volume knob on his fancy stereo. Outside the rain-streaked window, the shops of Sapphire Springs’ quaint downtown slide by: The Music Bar, locked up tight at this early hour; Brew Box, which I eye longingly; The Bookaholic, which is the perfect place to be spending a rainy morning like this one. I could ask him to drop me off right here, then set up with my laptop in the back and work until the rain subsides.
But then I wouldn’t be getting to know my new co-worker, like Ethan wants. Plus afterward, I’d either have to call an unavailable Uber with money I don’t have or limp the rest of the way back to my messed-up car in my bare feet.
There’s no way around it: I need to stay in this car with Donovan Frost, for the ten minutes it’ll take for us to reach our destination. But I can’t do it in silence so heavy, it feels like an oppressive weight that’s crushing me back against my seat: the G-force of mutual enmity.
“Okay,” I say finally. “Can we talk about this?”
Those unfairly gorgeous eyes of his shift sideways, toward me. “Talk about what?”
Is he really going to make me say it? “You know what. The way you’re…being.”
That earns me a snort, potentially the most emotion I’ve seen from him in our short acquaintance—unless you count disgust-slash-horror. “No, I don’t think I do. How am I being, exactly?”
“Like…that!” I gesture toward him, encompassing his ramrod-straight back, curled lip, and refusal to acknowledge the fact that his attitude is somewhere between oblivious and obnoxious.
“You just gestured at all of me.” His lips twitch. I can’t tell if he’s repressing the desire to laugh or eject me from his vehicle, right into the thunderstorm.
“Exactly! All of you is…impossible. You obviously can’t stand me, and I have no idea why, since we’ve just met. But we have to work together, so can you please get over whatever crawled up your butt? Because otherwise, this is going to be a long six months for both of us.” There, that was mature. Sort of.
From what I can tell, given that all I can see is Donovan’s profile, he looks bemused. “Why do you think I can’t stand you?”
Oh dear God. “Is this some kind of Socratic questioning technique? I have eyes! You’ve been nothing but rude and dismissive since the moment we met.”
“I’m driving you to your car,” he points out, his tone deadpan.
“Reluctantly,” I retort. “Ethan practically had to bribe you.”
“Because I have a deadline! It has nothing to do with you!”
Now it’s my turn to snort. We sink back into oppressive silence, and this time I do nothing to break it. Nor does Donovan, who’s intently focused on the road, as if he’s navigating a tricky mountain pass rather than the near-empty, if soggy, streets of downtown Sapphire Springs. I fold my arms across my chest, sinking down low in my seat, counting the minutes until I can get back to my car and call AAA. Then I can go home, super-glue my broken heel, heat up last night’s enchiladas, and binge a romance novel. A humble plan, but mine own.
But you know what they say about plans. Because right as this one occurs to me, a familiar tingling sensation begins in my palms. It climbs up my arms, electrifying my body as it goes, like I’ve been plugged into a low-grade electric current.
Oh, no. Not now. Not here. Not again.
I clench my fists, trying to ground it, to contain it before it spreads. But that has never, ever worked before. It doesn’t work now.
The tingling climbs higher, up my neck and cheeks, until my entire head buzzes with it. It intensifies, until it’s less of a tingle and more of a full-on blaze. The car and the street outside start to blur. And in my mind’s eye, somewhere between this world and the next, a door cracks open, red-tinged light seeping through.
It’s been a long time since I’ve had two premonitions in twenty-four hours. Not since a day I really don’t want to think about, many years ago. But that’s exactly what’s happening now.
Maybe,I think in desperation,I can just decide not to walk through that door.But it’s luring me onward, a siren song I can’t resist.
I open my eyes wide, trying to focus on the details of the world around me. Trying to stay. Because if not, in about two seconds, Donovan is going to be sitting next to Zombie Girl. But no matter how hard I try, the light grows brighter and brighter, the door cracking wider.
I’m stillhereenough to see Donovan steal a glance at me, then shift his weight uneasily. “Um…you look really upset. I know I can be—that is, I didn’t mean—will you please say something?”
