That Escalated Quickly #2
“Ahem,” Miles cleared his throat, still holding the passenger side open for me. Taking a heavy sigh, I clasped the back door shut and turned to him. The most handsome man I ever met. Why did he have to be such a jerk?
***
Thankfully, the parents’ house was only about twenty minutes from the station. Just some twenty minutes, Lore, and you would be out of this car. Great! I couldn’t wait! And just as I hoped I wouldn’t spend a minute longer anywhere near him—
“Miles?” Jo’s voice sliced the heavy air of awkwardness between us. “Could you make one more stop on the way home, please? There is just this small thing I need to pick up, and then I promise that’s all.”
While Miles and my sister hummed over the new address, I took a deep breath.
Not a fan of driving, I felt my palms dampen with sweat.
My fingers twitched nervously before I clenched them into fists.
Sinking back into the seat, I clasped the seatbelt across my chest, trying to calm myself against the knot of anxiety in my stomach.
Just as the engine started, I felt Jo’s hand, squeezing my shoulder gently.
“Alright, baby, let’s go,” he muttered, and I could swear the corners of his mouth quivered into something that looked like a half-smile as soon as he grasped the steering wheel with both hands. Oh, wow, so he did smile. To his car.
Thankfully, my sister’s bubbly personality was a saving grace for both of us. She kept talking, he kept driving, and I kept checking the estimated time of arrival every two minutes.
“God!” I grasped for the handle all at once. An unexpected jolt ran through me the moment Miles veered onto the opposite side of the road in a quick manoeuvre to overtake another car. “Jesus,” I breathed.
“You okay?” Jo asked.
“Yeah,” I exhaled, my chest nearly heaving.
“Don’t worry. Miles here is a professional racer.”
“Well—” I forced a smile. “—this doesn’t exactly make me feel any better.”
“He is a good driver, Lore. You can trust him.” She tried to reassure me.
“Yeah…sure.” Not quite convinced, I sighed, looking at him, my eyes catching his furtive peek from beneath his shades.
Miles lowered his side of the window. Hands reaching for the pack of cigarettes, he pulled one out, placing it between his lips. “Do you mind if I smoke?” He threw out the question, flicking the lighter next to his face.
“Not at all,” Jo muttered.
“Actually—” I turned to him. “—I do.” He, too, turned to look at me. His eyes might have been hidden under the sunglasses, but the expression on his face was undoubtedly amusement. Staring at me, possibly a beat too long in my opinion, he put the lighter away.
“You should probably focus on the road,” I suggested, “because, frankly, I don’t feel like dying today. Whatever they might say about your driving skills.”
His eyebrow raised with a silent question, a hint of a smirk slowly playing at the corner of his mouth. And then he finally shifted his gaze away.
“Is Lore short for…?” he asked, looking ahead.
“Florence,” my sister quickly answered.
“I prefer Lore,” I suggested.
“Well,” he said, his voice a smooth, seductive rumble, “I prefer Florence.” Ugh, it was maddening! How could that same sound simultaneously grate on my nerves—seriously, who did he think he was?—and send shivers down my spine? Against my will, no less!
God, I hated being here so much, trapped in this car. I hated that we were now stuck in traffic and the fact that, suddenly, I preferred Florence too instead of its shortened version.
Darting my gaze at the bold red digits, I sighed.
Stupid, infuriating, gorgeous, jerk .
“You have reached your destination,” the navigation system announced. We parked shortly after.
“Do you want me to go with you?” I offered, glancing back at Jo. A second alone with that arrogant Mr. Whatever-his-last- name-is was enough to make me homicidal and get me a life sentence.
“Nah, it’s fine.”
“You sure? I can—”
“It’ll be just five minutes.” Jo quickly jumped out of the car, leaving me there. With him.
I stared at my window, desperate to avoid any point of contact. My fingers itched to check my phone yet again. I swear, time had never dragged so slowly. This was beyond ridiculous!
Suddenly, I heard the sound of a latch. Without a word, he stepped outside and shut the door behind him with a soft thud.
“Seriously, what’s his problem?” I muttered under my breath.
A faint whiff of nicotine reached my nostrils.
Glancing through the side-view mirror, I saw him standing just a few steps away, a cigarette smouldering between his fingers, smoke curling lazily into the air.
He was leaning against the back of the car, his head facing the sky, seemingly lost in thought.
Were they heavy thoughts, or the kind that come with not having a care in the world?
I couldn’t tell. I bet if he took off those glasses, his eyes would be shut.
For a moment, just a very brief one, I admit I wanted to know what was going on in his head.
What was he like? Jo didn’t seem to hate him.
I wasn’t sure why not. I wondered if he ever smiled—I mean, to other people, obviously.
Nonetheless, I imagined he probably had a beautiful smile.
And, most importantly, I was curious what made him so…
unapproachable? I tilted my head to the side as I continued watching him in the mirror.
There was something familiar in his stillness, the even lines of his shoulders slightly dropped, and the way he exhaled with the smoke.
It was almost as if I could speak the language of his body—not so much our spoken language.
The way he held himself—withdrawn, almost guarded, as if he purposely created a barrier between himself and the outside world. And I caught myself wondering ‘why’?
But then the feeling passed, replaced by the returned impatience. “It’s definitely more than five minutes, Jo,” I breathed, darting my eyes anywhere else but him, his presence still getting on my nerves.
I pushed back—my shoulders felt sore—instantly realising how tired I was.
Working so many long hours and picking up extra night shifts on the ambulance had left me drained.
God, I really needed this time off. My mind drifted to the house—I missed laying by the sparkling pool with a book, I missed the endless sea view from our balconies where I had my breakfasts, I missed the sun, and the feel of warm sand between my toes.
I could almost imagine the gentle breeze on my—
The door opened.
And here I was.
Back in his car.
“Do you want some music?” Miles asked.
Was he talking to… “Me?” Surprised, I glanced at him.
Miles leaned in, his gaze flicking towards the back seat before dramatically returning to me. “Do you see someone else here?”
Ugh!
Breathe, Florence! Just breathe and let it go. I probably wouldn’t even see him after this. That house was so big the chances of running into him again were slim to none.
“Um—” I forced a smile. “—I would love some.”
Miles reached for his phone, his fingers flying across the screen until music filled the car.
The song kicked off with a driving bass, a strong, steady pulse that was quickly joined by the guitar.
I immediately recognised the band—Nothing but Thieves.
Next came the lyrics, along with my fingers lightly drumming against my lap.
The vocalist, drunk on honey whiskey , contemplated leaving the party before losing himself and doing something he might regret.
The melody, beautiful and atmospheric, drifted around me, but the lines—each line—were a euphoric rush, intoxicating me.
Like a secret, words barely escaped my quivering lips.
He, too, started tapping a gentle rhythm against the steering wheel. And after acting like a complete ass this whole time, at least his taste in music was the only surprising thing that didn’t grate on me.
The final chord hung in the air, a sweet aftertaste, a temptation, that left me yearning for something, another bite maybe, a bite I knew would leave a bitter aftertaste in the morning.
Jo took another frustrating ten minutes and then we finally hit the road. Staring out the window, I sank into my seat, listening to his tunes, which only kept getting better; every song felt like something I would have easily picked myself.
Reaching home, I practically launched myself out of his car. My luggage was the only thing that held me back. While my sister wrestled with the stuck boxes, Miles grabbed my suitcases from his trunk.
“I can take these for you,” he offered.
“I’ve got it,” I said, yanking the bags out of his grasp. “Thanks!” And hopefully see you never , but I kept that part to myself.
“Well, well, well, look who it is!” Mark called out, walking towards me with open arms. A man who, no matter the occasion, looked like he was about to sign a business deal, and that deal certainly was a success.
“Looking beautiful, as always,” he said.
But it almost sounded like, “That’s my best and final offer. And your signature goes right here.”
Nearly reaching for the pen in my bag to sign whatever was asked of me, I shook off the idea. “You are too, not so bad yourself,” I chuckled, squeezing him into a hug.
“How great that you could come earlier.” Mark beamed, his gaze flitting between me and Miles. “Oh, and you finally got to meet my good friend, Miles.” Miles only managed a weak smile beneath those large glasses. “I just know you two will get along.”
“Hmm,” I forced a polite beam back. “We shall see.”
“Honey?” Suddenly Mark’s brow furrowed in confusion when he glanced at my sister. “Why are there boxes everywhere?”
“Um.” A flush crept up her cheeks. “Look, I can explain. But first, can you help me with these?” Curling her lips playfully, she batted her eyelashes with exaggerated innocence. “Pretty please?”