by S. J. Bishop
"Are you okay?" I asked.
"Mmm hmm," she said.
"Are you sure you can drive?"
"I only had as much as you," she said.
I cocked one eyebrow at her. Her hands were still wrapped around my neck. She either didn't notice or didn't care. "But I weigh twice as much as you."
"So you get to drink more? That's not fair!" she pouted and fell into a spell of giggles.
"Wow, you really are kind of a lightweight, aren't you? Maybe I should just take you home. Where do you live?"
"Brookside."
"Okay, no problem. You can leave your car here and get it in the morning."
"Maybe that's a good idea," she said, finally letting go of my neck. I was sorry to lose the velvet feel of her hands against my skin. She took her purse from the doorman with a thanks.
"This is mine over here," I said, opening the door to my Porsche for her. She slid into the seat next to mine and I started up the car.
"Ready?" I asked.
"And willing," she said, batting her lashes playfully. "Thanks for the ride."
We peeled out of the parking lot and were almost to her apartment before she realized she didn't have her keys.
"Shit!" she said, throwing her purse to the floor.
"What?"
"I don't have my keys!"
"Hey, it's alright. I'm sure they're here somewhere. Did you check all your pockets?" I reached out to touch her cheek, hoping to calm her down.
"Yes!" she snapped. "Of course I checked my pockets. I'm not stupid." She slapped my hand away harder than I would have expected, and for a second I got distracted, paying more attention to her than to where I was going. When I looked back at the road, I realized we were headed straight for a tree.
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