“Sorry, it’s none of my business.”
“Wait. You think I’m gay?” he asks, leaning forward in his seat. “You really think I’m gay? That I have a boyfriend? Do I strike you as not being interested in women? Holy fuck, is that the vibe I give off?”
His voice raises an octave with the last question. He’s clearly concerned and I grit my teeth in regret for opening my mouth. My anxiety spikes and I feel horrible. My nervous shuffle begins. “No, I didn’t think that. I mean, you are super nice and you dress really well, so I guess it actually kind of makes sense you’d be gay if you believe that stereotype. Not that I do, because that’s ridiculous and I did think you were flirting with me, but I’m usually wrong about people. And I really don’t know you so maybe you just act that way in general and didn’t mean anything by it because if you’re into guys, then you probably didn’t. Unless you’re bi, which would explain both, I suppose. But no.”
He stares at me and his lips curl. “How in the world do you talk that fast without breathing?”
“So are you bi or just gay?”
“I’m neither! For the love of all things holy, I can assure you I’m into chicks, not dicks.”
“Oh.” I have to press home again to see the picture. Maybe he’s a friend.
“That’s my brother,” he responds. His voice softens.
I take a closer look and notice there is a striking resemblance between them. It makes more sense. “I didn’t mean to pry. I’m sorry.”
“Not at all. I’m an open book. You can ask me anything.”
Multiple questions pop into my head at once, the top one being if he has a girlfriend. I don’t want to seem interested, because I’m not. Not at all. Asking questions might give him the wrong idea. I decide to drop the subject and hopefully get back to not talking.
I type my number into his contacts and hand it back to him. He glances at my number and nods his head. “Do you want mine?”
I suddenly remember I have it. It’s on the business card I picked out of the trash. I don’t want him to know that. “I’ll get it when you text me.” I shrug like I don’t care.
“So what I heard you say is that you’d like to hear from me as often as possible.”
My eyes widen briefly until I realize he’s kidding. “No. I think I hear enough from you. Please don’t make me change my number.”
Turning to stare out my window, I offer a silent prayer that we’ve said enough for today.
“Are you going to the Christmas party Friday after work?” he asks.
“Wasn’t planning on it.”
“Oh come on. It’ll be fun.”
I cross my arms. “No, it won’t. People expect you to smile and talk. Those are the two things I hate the most.”
“Well… I kind of have to go—make an appearance anyway.”
I turn to face him. “No problem. I’ll take the train.”
He sighs. “Come with me. We’ll stay for thirty minutes tops.”
“Finn…”
“I promise. You can stand next to me and fake smile. I’ll do all the talking for you.”
“Nope.”
“What if I buy you dinner after?” he asks, using his crooked smile as a weapon.
“I eat alone, remember.”
“What if we eat in silence?” he asks.
Slowly, I turn my head to shoot him daggers. I don’t even have to answer him.
“What if we eat at two separate tables in the same restaurant?”
I shake my head. “I don’t believe for a second that you can’t find a more willing girl to hang out with you.”
He slides his fingers through his hair. “Maybe I don’t want to hang with just any girl.”
“You prefer girls who don’t like you?”
He laughs. “You like me and you know it.”
“No, I really don’t. I told you, you annoy me.”
He grins and places both hands on the wheel, tapping his fingers. “I’m good with that.”
“You’re weird. I tell you that you irritate me and it makes you happy?”
“I’d rather you have some feelings about me than none at all. I can work with annoyed.”
I stare at him for a half-second, trying to figure him out. “I’m sure there are a ton of people who can’t stand you. Maybe you’d like to offer them all rides as well?”
“While I would be absolutely fine driving more people, I have to say I’d rather have your undivided attention.”
I’m getting more and more uncomfortable with this conversation. I decide it’s fight or flight time. Noticing me pulling out my earbuds, he sighs loudly.
“Don’t put them in, I’ll zip it.”
“I just want to listen to music. Don’t get your panties in a twist.”
He snickers. “How about I turn on some of my music?”
“I highly doubt we like the same stuff.”
Traffic slows to a stop and he turns his head to me. “All I’m asking for is a chance. Give me a chance to show you what I’m made of. I won’t disappoint you.”
I do a double take at him, not sure we’re only talking about music anymore. I can’t help but focus a little too long on his lips. I feel my face blush so I turn away. He’s growing on me and I don’t like that he frustrates me less and less the more time I spend with him. “Whatever. Play whatever.”
He fidgets with his phone. “I made a driving playlist.” He leans over me to reach into the glove compartment and his elbow touches my knee. I push farther back into my seat. He’s in my personal space again. Ugh. And I can smell him. He smells… really good. Fuck.
He shuffles through a couple pieces of paper before retrieving a list and handing it to me.
He smirks excitedly. He’s like a little kid. I can’t help but be secretly amused by him. I’m not sure how I let it happen, but he may have put a few dents in my crusty, protective shell. I need to be more careful.
I glance at the list just as the first song plays over his Bluetooth. His choices make me want to laugh even though I’ve never heard of some of them.
He turns to face me and sings along with The Cars. I manage to keep a straight face and continue to act annoyed, but somehow I find him charming. He’s not a half-bad singer and strangely, he’s adorable. What’s wrong with me? Why am I letting him get under my skin? I try to think about all the things he does that aggravate me so that I stop almost liking him. At least his singing is more tolerable than his talking. And I don’t have to respond.
He keeps glancing over and singing to me. I need to do something to make him stop. “I think number fourteen will be my favorite. You know, ‘Shut Up and Drive’?”
He laughs and continues to sing, “Who’s gonna drive you home, tonight?”
I roll my eyes at him, but then I turn my head away and secretly smile.
He sings through the next four songs until we finally pull into the parking garage. Still better than talking, but not when he sang every song to me, word for fricking word. I think he likes making me uncomfortable. I may need to get a second job to pay for those repairs. I miss the quiet of my inner thoughts and my car.
I may get to work faster, but this drive seems longer than before.
Liz: STOP TEXTING ME!
Finn: All caps. That must mean you’re serious.
Liz: I told you I DON’T WANT TO GO.
Finn: I heard you all twelve times. Just wait for me then.
Liz: Why do you care how I get home?
Finn: I won’t take no for an answer.
Liz: Will you stop texting if I say fine?
I wait two more minutes and he doesn’t respond.
Liz: Hello?
Finn: I thought you wanted me to stop texting?
Ugh. I wish I would have never given the man my number. He texts me all the time now. I see pics of his lunch, marketing materials, and he even asked me to help him pick out a tie this morning for the Christmas party tonight.
Taking the train and bus would be a serious
pain in the ass, so even though I protested his offer, I really want the ride. I knew he wouldn’t give up. He never does. It’s strange how I’ve come to count on it.
At 5 p.m., I yawn and stretch my arms above my head. I make a quick trip to the bathroom and check myself in the mirror, brushing out my hair. I grabbed the wrong lipstick this morning and all I have is bright red. I waver on whether or not to wear it, but it’s better than nothing. Shrugging, I put it on.
Straightening out my skirt, I feel a little warm. Someone must have cranked up the heat. I remove my sweater and stare at my pale arms. I didn’t get out much this summer due to my poor choices in men. A mistake I won’t make again.
Twisting to the side, I pucker my lips at my reflection. Not eating much has whittled my waist. I look pretty damn good even though I’m starving.
After making my way back to my desk through the empty office, I toss my sweater on my chair and check my phone.
Finn sent me a pic of the buffet. Now I’m even hungrier than before. Damn him.
“Liz? You’re still here?”
I turn to see my boss, Mr. Foreman, locking his office door.
“I’m getting ready to go. I’m waiting for a friend.” Did I just refer to Finn as a friend? Hmm…
“You’re coming to the holiday party, right?” he asks.
“Nah, I have a couple of things I’m going to finish up then I’m heading home.”
“I’m only going to say this once and if you quote me, I’ll deny it. You work too hard. Go to the party, you deserve a fun night.”
I offer up a fake smile. “That’s really nice of you, but I’m fine.”
“I insist! Come on, walk with me. I hate entering those things alone. My boss’s boss is going to be there. I’d really like to introduce you. He was very impressed with your work the other day.”
Ugh. How do I say no to that? “Umm… okay, sure. I suppose I can go for a few minutes.”
We make our way to the banquet room on the fifteenth floor. I’ve never been up here before. I’ve successfully skipped all the parties since I started here, until now. The view is stunning. My hands are shaking nervously as we make our way toward a group standing near the bar. Why did I agree to do this? My boss introduces me to several people and we chat about numbers for over twenty minutes.
They excuse themselves and I’m left standing alone in the back, feeling oddly proud that I managed to get through the conversation without seeming like an idiot. Glancing about the crowded room, I look for Finn, but he’s nowhere in sight. I feel awkward and my anxiety slowly begins to rise. Just as I’m about to bolt for the exit, I feel a hand slide around my waist and turn me.
“You came,” Finn says excitedly.
“My boss made me. I had to.”
“Where’s that boss of yours?” he asks. “I want to thank him.”
“You’re not drinking, are you?” I ask, pointing to the glass in his hand.
“Nope. It’s soda. I’m driving someone pretty special. I’d never risk her life.”
“Hmph.”
“Did you eat? The food is amazing.”
“No, but if you want to leave now, I’m fine with skipping it,” I reply. My eyes roam in search of the buffet I saw in his pic earlier. Free food that’s not frozen from my microwave sounds incredible, but not if he wants to go. That sounds better.
“I need a few more minutes. Come on, let’s get you some dinner.”
Finn hands me a glass of champagne off a tray as we pass and I drink it a little faster than I should. All these people make me incredibly nervous. The buffet is next to a large dance floor and I’m surprised when I see Gloria from accounting busting a move. I didn’t know she liked to dance. It makes me wonder what else I don’t know about her. Rotating my head, I notice several people from accounting and they all seem to be enjoying themselves. Hmm, I thought they were quiet introverts like me. They sure don’t seem that way tonight.
Finn gets me a plate and proceeds to point out all the stuff he ate and how good it was.
A leggy redhead taps him on the shoulder. “You promised me…” she sings, grabbing ahold of his hand and pulling him forward. My eyes squint into tiny slits as I study her.
“Will you excuse me?” Finn asks. “I promised Carly a dance.”
I shrug and motion to the dance floor, watching her lead him willingly and still holding his hand. They’re playing some techno dance song that I’ve never heard. Sitting at the nearest empty table I can find, a waiter passes by and I grab another glass of champagne. I sip it as I observe Finn whispering in Carly’s ear. She laughs and touches his arm before they start to move to the music.
My mouth goes slack and I rub the back of my neck as I watch them. Finn is an incredible dancer. He moves like a professional and somehow Carly manages to keep up with him. They’re both equally attractive and talented. I can’t dance to save my life. The floor clears around them and people are clapping and cheering them on.
Fanning myself with my hand then my napkin, I wonder why I feel so warm. Is it hot in here today or what? I chug what’s left of my drink as I stare at Finn. I can’t look away. He just started working here, yet he knows more people than I do.
He’s doing some pretty amazing things with his body out there and the girls can’t get enough of him. They say people fuck the way they dance. If this is true, Finn is fantastic in bed. My thighs tighten as the thought enters my mind. I take another drink from my glass. I haven’t even touched my food.
The bitch has her hands all over him, like she’s claiming him. What a skank. I take two bites of some pasta and moan softly at how it melts in my mouth. Food is life. I glance down at my plate and move a few things around with my fork, attempting to focus on the food rather than Finn.
Is this jealousy I’m feeling? No… Why would I be jealous? We’re not even friends. I don’t even like him.
He’s obviously in his element. You can tell the attention doesn’t bother him at all. Even though I don’t want to look, I can’t help but stare again. They move perfectly together. She’s not just pretty; she’s beautiful, and they look like they’re a couple. I hate myself for watching them like a voyeur so I chug what’s left of my drink.
Abandoning my plate, I make my way to the bar and take a glass of wine sitting alone on a serving platter. I don’t know who it belongs to, and I don’t care. After a few more minutes and another song, I feel oddly at ease with my surroundings. Not wanting to see Finn and his girl toy, I refuse to turn around again.
The next song ends and soon after, he approaches me from behind.
“Did you finish eating already? Are you ready to go?” he questions.
Clearing my throat and clenching my teeth I ask, “How was your dance?” It comes out in a snarky growl, just as I intended.
His head twists slightly as he regards me and licks his lips. “It was okay. How’s your drink?” he asks, pointing toward it.
“It looked more than okay to me,” I say, taking another large gulp. “How come you’re not still out there with her? It’s a slow song. You could be all up in her business.”
He huffs out a small laugh, straightening his tie. “I don’t want to be all up in her anything.”
“Why not? You’re always all up in mine? Always telling me what to do and asking me questions and shit. It’s so dumb,” I add sarcastically, not making eye contact.
He leans his back on the bar to face me. I can feel him studying me and I roll my eyes. “Stop staring at me.”
“I can’t help myself. I don’t usually get to look at you while I’m driving and I’m taking advantage of the moment.”
Facing him, I feel the liquid courage building within me. “Then get your fill. Take a good look.” Turning slowly, I make sure he can see me from all angles. His eyes darken. The way he’s staring creates goose bumps up and down my arms. He notices me shiver and uses the back of his fingers to stroke my skin.
“Are you cold? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with
out a sweater.”
“I was hot.”
He smirks. “You still are.”
Exhaling deeply, I cross my arms. “See, that’s the kind of stuff a girl like me might mistake for flirting. You shouldn’t say stuff you don’t mean.”
“Who said I didn’t mean it?” He takes a step forward into my space and his eyes meet mine. I feel my lips part and my thighs clench. Why did I not see it before? I thought he was kinda cute, but right now, he’s the hottest man I’ve ever seen.
He holds out his hand. “Dance with me.”
I suck my bottom lip into my mouth. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but if I could, I’d jump him right here, right now, on this bar. Instead I place my hand in his and he leads me out to the center of the crowd. “I Hate You, I Love You” by Gnash is playing.
He places his hand around my waist and pulls me close. He’s all up in my comfort zone and strangely, I don’t mind. “I dance like I talk,” I announce nervously. I can’t believe I’m even considering dancing. What’s gotten into me? “I might step on your feet. I’m no Carly.”
“And I wouldn’t want you to be. Let me be in charge for once?” he asks.
I nod.
He’s holding me tightly in his arms and I let go. I let him have control and it’s a new experience for me. Actually, it’s a bit freeing if I’m being honest. He sways me to the music and I lean my head into his neck. I’ve never danced this well before. Seems alcohol is my friend.
“You smell so good,” I whisper, planting my lips right above his collar.
He pauses briefly at my touch. “So do you.”
I lift my head and our lips are inches apart. He’s staring at them.
“You want to kiss me, don’t you, Finn?” I ask with a cocky smile.
“How much have you had to drink?” he questions as he holds me tighter, pushing my tits into his chest. It feels sexy, although I wonder if he’s trying to hold me up.
“Who cares.” I lift my hand and put it around his neck. “Are you ever going to make a move on me?”
He sighs. “Not tonight.”
The song comes to an end and a faster song begins. We’re in the center of a ton of dancers and we’re the only ones standing still. I gaze around and decide there are too many people here. I slide my hand down his chest. “Follow me, please.”
Confessions of a Carpool Captive Page 5