“Give me a hint.” As I say this, he turns right onto Sepulveda Boulevard. Before he can answer, I ask, “Are you getting on the 405? Are we going to theValley?”
Merging onto the 405, he admits, “Since you’ve figured it out, yes. We’re going to the Valley. Specifically Northridge, then Van Nuys.”
I frown, wracking my brain for what could be in Northridge and Van Nuys. I’ve lived in LA for fourteen years—or a month, depending how you spin it—and I’m not certain I could point to Northridge on a map.
“What the hell is in Van Nuys and Northridge?”
I think of the messy-date ideas Madison pulled up as I was getting ready.
Paintball is looking more and more likely.
He laughs and glances at me, and the image of him looking away from the highway brings on a panic so sudden and severe that all logic escapes me.
“Eyes on the road!” I scream. My heart pounds, my breath quickens. I’m not in Alex’s car cruising up the 405. Instead, I’m trying to get farawayfrom Alex. It’s nighttime on the 134. I slam on my brakes. And then—
The silence is deafening in the wake of my outburst. My breathing is loud in my ears, and I’m embarrassed by how ridiculous I sounded. Alex stares resolutely at the road.
“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice soft and concerned.
“I’m sorry,” I mutter. “That was—irrational.”
I realize this is the first time I’ve gotten on a highway since—well,since.
“Don’t apologize. It wasn’t irrational.”
“It was,” I argue. I’m still a little on edge, but the panic is wearing off.I’m fine. “I got into a car accident a while ago—it was pretty serious, but… magically, I walked away from it unscathed. It’s something I’m still working through.”
The weight of my admission brings a frown to his face.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks carefully.
“No,” I say, too quickly. “No. It was just—it’s dumb, but I was distracted in the car, so I think… you looking away from the road just… brought that to mind.”
“I swear I won’t look away from the road again,” he says, his tone so serious that I laugh. Like that, the tension is broken, and a flirty smile plays at his lips before he says, “It’s pretty tempting when you’re sitting there looking like that, though.”
He pulls into the parking lot of one of those quintessential LA strip malls, the two-story kind that takes up a corner and has the mandatory hole-in-the-wall restaurant and vape shop. Someone once told me that LA is basically just one big strip mall, and I haven’t been able to unsee it since.
“We’re getting Salvadoran food?”
“Food’s not until later. Why, are you hungry? We could pop in and grab some pupusas.”
I shake my head, unable to restrain my smile at how eager he is to make me happy. That is what it is,eagerness, but it’s interesting how it reads on him. Eagerness always strikes me as youthful, sort of naive, even, but from Alex, eagerness comes across as self-assurance. If his date is hungry, he’ll get his date food—no question about it.
“I ate earlier. But I don’t understand… are we here to pick up an Edible Arrangement?”
“Stop guessing,” he jokingly reprimands me, then presses his hand to the small of my back to guide me to the right. I jolt at the touch, the first reminder of the kisses we shared just days ago.
Everything else escapes my mind, all my focus pulled to that tiny spot of contact. I don’t make another guess about where he’s taking me. He could be leading me to the storefront he rents to stash the bodies of his victims for all I care. All that exists are those few square inches where our skin is separated by nothing other than the thin fabric of my top.
He isn’t even touching me with his whole hand, just the tips of his fingers, exerting gentle pressure to guide me toward the stairs leading up to the second story.
Halfway up, I glance at him and see that his attention isfirmlyfocused on the same spot.
He’s just as affected as I am.
Either that or he’s staring at my ass, which I know looks great in these heels. At least they’re good for something, because with each step, I worry I’m about to trip and twist my ankle.
Mental note: Prioritize more sensible footwear in my second life.
