Page 32 of The Bad Husband

I get more anxious by the second.

I hope it’s not a dead body.

“You were saying?” he murmurs, amused.

“I was saying… What was I saying?”

“That you were looking for a boyfriend.”

“No, I did not. What made you say that?”

“You said your friend wanted to introduce you to a friend of hers.”

The houses become scarce as we move down a smooth road cutting through a nice landscape with slight hills and dense woods.

Yeah, that certainly won’t make my hair stand on end.

“I’m not looking for a boyfriend. I just want to get laid,” I murmur, unaware of the words coming out of my mouth, frantically obsessed with where we’re going, while trying to gauge how much I can trust this man.

The car comes to a smooth stop on the side of the road, which makes me shift my eyes to him.

“What happened?” I ask, freaked out.

“You got a job to get laid, yet you couldn’t work for me?”

Interesting logic.

Is that what’s bothering him?

What about the fact that we’re in the middle of nowhere?

“I didn’t get a job to get laid.”

So foolish of me to think that talking about getting a boyfriend would erase that horrible impression I have left by sniffing the aroma of his cologne off his skin.

“I got a job to keep myself busy during summer, and also to stay away from you and Henrietta. Where is she, by the way? Wasn’t she supposed to be here already?”

“She’s been held up. She’s not coming back till next week,” he says without giving me more information.

I make a soft gesture of dismissal before glancing out the window and continuing.

“And then, if you really want to know, I’ve studied hard this year, so I deserve to have some fun. Not to mention that I don’t have to explain this to anyone, especially you.”

“I didn’t say you should. I find it peculiar that you’re having a hard time finding someone to sleep with.”

He looks out the window when he’s saying that, which makes me suspect he’s teasing me while trying to avoid my eyes.

“Well, I’m very particular about my men, if you really want to know.”

“You said the same about your burgers.” He looks at me. “I bet you are,” he adds, irony dripping from his voice.

He sets his car in motion after checking the rearview mirror a few times as if wanting to make sure no one has followed us.

Interesting.

The road is clear in front of us as much as it’s empty behind us.

“What exactly are you looking for?” he asks, reflexively reaching inside his jacket as if he used to smoke at some point.