Once he’s inside, he presses a button and the car roars to life. He pushes his seat belt into the lock and leans inward to check that I’m wearing mine. He points toward it. “We can go whenever you’re ready.”
There’s something insanely attractive about the way he’s looking at me. I’m taken aback by my sudden reaction to him, so I turn away to buckle my seat belt.
As we drive out of the parking garage, I glance back at my lonely car and pray there’s an inexpensive, quick fix. I’m not meant to be a passenger. I like being in control and not having it right now may send me over the edge.
We ride in silence for a while. His car handles so much better than mine. The rhythmic sound of the tires on the road is relaxing and I’m glad he’s not trying to talk to me. I’m good with quiet.
The next thing I know, I sense a warm hand on my arm. It sends a shiver through my spine. I like the way it feels. It’s soft but firm. Long, strong fingers gently press into my skin. The touch makes me feel safe and wanted. I smile as I roll my head from one side to the other, opening my eyes. Startled, I jump as his face comes into focus.
“Sorry to wake you, Lizzy, but I don’t know where I’m taking you.”
Straightening myself, I try not to panic. “Did I fall asleep?” I’m horrified at the thought.
He shrugs. “Not for long.”
“I can’t believe I did that.” I push my hands into my hair and shake my head. “I’m so embarrassed.”
“Don’t be. It’s perfectly fine. The seat warmers are almost too relaxing. Plus it’s dark and really late. I’m sure you’re exhausted.”
He’s completely focused on traffic, so I take a moment to assess him. His left arm is resting bent on the side door and his fingers pull at his lip as he drives with his right hand. His face is serious and he seems deep in thought. It’s a new look for him. I like quiet Finn much more than speaking Finn. My happiness is short-lived.
“Have you lived in California long?” he asks.
“My whole life,” I manage to say through a yawn.
“Do you like it here?”
I stare at him for a moment. He was quiet for a while. I suppose I can at least try to carry a small conversation. “I guess. It’s fine. I’ve never been anywhere else, so I have nothing to compare it to.”
“Hmm. Where am I taking you, by the way?”
“Take the 110 to 405,” I reply.
“Would you mind putting your address into the GPS?” he asks, pointing to the screen on his dash.
“I don’t know how to work one of these.”
He presses a few buttons. “Go ahead and type it in.”
I do as he says. He hits enter and the screen comes to life.
“You’re in Westminster? I had a feeling we’d be close.”
“You had a feeling?” I ask suspiciously.
“Well, you passed me on the 405 this morning. I hoped it was because you’d just gotten on.”
“I can’t believe you recognized me,” I reply with a small shake of my head. I turn and stare out the passenger window. Traffic moves much better at this time of night.
“Of course I did. You made quite a first impression.”
My head pivots toward him. “How so?” I imagine he couldn’t forget my awkwardness.
“Truthfully, I heard you before I saw you. You were on the phone. I was impressed with how you handled yourself. You have a way with words.”
I straighten myself to face him more fully. “Are you fucking with me?”
He smiles genuinely, making brief eye contact. “About what, hearing you on the phone or the way with words? The answer is no to both of them.”
I do a double take at him. I’m not sure if I can believe anything he says. “I’m terrible in any conversation, so I know you’re full of it.”
“You underestimate yourself. I can tell you’re good at your job by what I heard and I’m an excellent judge of character.”
“Everyone in marketing thinks they’re a good judge of everything.”
“That’s a surprisingly accurate statement. Can I assume you remembered me too since you know I’m in the marketing department? I know it’s not because you picked through the trash for my card.”
My cheeks blush again. “Umm… let’s just say you’re way too upbeat to not be in marketing.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Of course you will.”
He laughs. “Anyway, I also remembered you from your eyes.”
Ugh. My eyes? I don’t like this conversation at all. I don’t like talking about me. I want it to stop. I say nothing, hoping he’ll take the hint. He doesn’t.
“You have the most beautiful pale blue eyes I’ve ever seen. They’re like glass.”
I fidget in my seat. I don’t like compliments. They make me uncomfortable.
Out of the corner of my eye I see him briefly turn his gaze from the road to me, as if to gauge my reaction. I turn my head away so he doesn’t notice the return of the flush in my cheeks.
“I’m not fucking with you,” he states sincerely. “I never say anything I don’t mean.”
“That might be the one and only thing we have in common,” I reply. “Except for when I think I have to be polite. Then I fudge a little.”
“There’s no need to worry about hurting my feelings. I’d rather have blunt force trauma then sugar-coated lies.”
Interesting. There seems to be some depth to him.
Traffic slows to a crawl. He turns to face me. I don’t like it so I stare out my window.
“I really don’t know anyone here. I hope you’ll consider at least trying to be my friend.”
I grumble under my breath. It must have been louder than I intended by how he laughs. He won’t give up easily. I’ve learned that much about him for sure.
“You don’t want to be friends with me, Elizabeth?”
I rotate my head to answer him and he’s not smiling for once. His blue eyes lock with mine and my breath hitches. His face is half lit by the nearest light pole and it makes him look mysterious and alluring. He’s actually hotter than I realized, especially with the way he’s staring at me like he sees into my soul. I turn my head away again and respond quickly and awkwardly. It’s my trademark, no-eye-contact shuffle. I’ve mastered it through years of nervous responses.
“No. I mean yes. I mean yeah, we can be friends. Except, I don’t really do friends. I mean I can do them. I just don’t do them. Not like actually ‘do’ them in a sexual way, but I do have them. I have friends. Sort of. We just don’t talk. Which is how I prefer it. Or, how I prefer friends in general.”
I glance over at him and he’s grinning from ear to ear. I close my eyes and hope he’ll disappear. Or better yet, maybe I will.
“So that settles it. You’re my first official friend in L.A.”
I try my best to smile, but I’m certain it looks as forced as it feels.
“Is there any way we could be done with the talking thing now?” I ask. “I think I’ve said enough for one night.”
Traffic begins to move again, thank God. It’s the only way he stops staring at me. “We can absolutely be done talking. I think you did an amazing job at trying your best to seem interested in what I had to say.”
“You’re okay, mostly, I guess.”
“Something tells me that’s high praise coming from you.”
I almost respond, but I don’t want to get him talking again. The next few minutes are peacefully quiet and it gives me time to think how to make my exit without saying much. I point out my apartment building and he pulls into a spot in front of the door.
“Thank you for driving me,” I say as I leap out of the car. I rush to the entryway and fumble with my keys, trying to get inside as quickly as possible.
“Betsie, wait!” He shouts, jumping out of the car.
“Betsie?” I turn on my heel. He hasn’t called me Liz, like I asked him to, all day. Betsie is the last straw.
“You forgot
your bag.” He reaches into the back seat and walks forward, arm outstretched.
I can’t believe I almost forgot my bag. The fear I have of accidentally leaving it with him causes my anger to dissipate. My notebook is in that bag and I most certainly wouldn’t want him to read it.
I smile as politely as possible and turn back to the door.
“Is 5:30 okay for tomorrow? I have a meeting first thing and I can’t be late.”
Shit. I forgot I have to see him one more time. “It’s fine. Beggars can’t complain.”
“You would never have to beg for anything with me,” he responds with a crooked grin.
I roll my eyes before turning back to the door and he laughs.
“Goodnight, Liz.”
I wave my hand, not even bothering to face him, rushing into the building and around the corner out of sight. I take a deep breath in an attempt to relax. It’s then I realize he used my actual name, not one of his nicknames. It’s about time. I can’t get in my bed fast enough. It’s been an unusual and tiring day. I desperately want to get back to my normal. One more ride and I’ll be done with him forever.
“Good morning!” he says cheerfully through his window as I approach.
I grit my teeth. “Are you always so chipper at this time of morning?” I ask, opening his car door.
His brows wriggle and he huffs as if I said something amusing.
The aroma of coffee feels like a hug. My mouth drops when I see he’s stopped at Starbucks before picking me up. There are four cups in the tray.
He follows my questioning gaze. “I didn’t know what you liked so I got black coffee, coffee with cream and sugar, a caramel macchiato, and an iced vanilla latte.”
I can’t help but grin as I close the door. It might be one of the most considerate things anyone has ever done for me.
“I hope one of those works. If not, we can stop on the way.”
“I’d drink any one of them,” I reply.
He smiles. “I’ll tell you what, have two. We have plenty.”
“Not unless you want me to pee myself before we get to work,” I say without thinking. I immediately wish I hadn’t opened my mouth at all. I’m so stupid. It’s why I don’t like talking.
“It’s leather. It’ll roll right off.”
I smile awkwardly, surprised my weirdness didn’t seem to faze him.
He places the car in reverse and I buckle my seat belt. He’s pleasantly quiet as we make our way down the street. I fight the urge to be polite and just enjoy the silence, but my need to have manners wins out. “Thank you for getting coffee. You didn’t have to do it.”
“I know I didn’t. I wanted to. I’m really not very good in the morning without it. Speaking of which, you need to pick one, because I’ve been dying for a sip.”
“You bought it. You pick.”
“This is research for me. I need to know your first choice. I insist.”
I grab the macchiato and he nods. “I knew it.”
“No you didn’t. You had no clue or else you wouldn’t have bought four drinks.”
“Maybe I secretly want the other three.”
I laugh sarcastically. “I hope you have a strong bladder because if you pee yourself on the way to work, I’m telling everyone.”
“And here I was, all nice about letting you pee all over my new car. I’m going to drink them just to prove you wrong.”
I shrug, taking a sip of my hot coffee. “Your choice.” I note he’s one of those people who probably thinks he has to do what he says, even in a joke. The coffee warms me from the inside out. I haven’t had Starbucks in months. It’s heaven.
He takes the black coffee. It suits him.
Traffic is already crawling, but when we edge into the carpool lane, we start moving faster than I’ve ever gone before. We’re only going around twenty miles per hour, starting and stopping here and there, but we’re moving and that’s a pleasant change. I can’t help but smirk at the drivers we pass. I don’t mean to be one of the people I hate, but it’s kinda cool to not be sitting still for once.
“This is nice, isn’t it?” he asks.
“The quiet is nice.”
He huffs in humor as he takes his last sip of coffee, replacing the empty cup in the tray. “This is number two, if you’re counting.” He lifts the coffee with cream and sugar in the air to me and takes a sip. He’s drinking that way too fast. I hope he knows what he’s doing.
I pull my phone from my purse, quietly scrolling through mechanics near work. I’ve already said way more than I usually do before noon.
“Do you know who you’re going to call?” he asks, obviously trying to make conversation.
I sigh. “No.”
“When we get to work, I can ask around and see if I can find a good place for you.”
“I’d prefer to do it myself.”
“Yeah, you’re very independent. I get that, but it never hurts to ask. Sometimes it’s good to get more than one opinion.”
“I don’t have time to get a second opinion. I need it fixed so I can go back to my routine.”
“You know I’d be happy to drive you until it’s fixed. It’s really no trouble.”
I turn my head to regard him and think through what I need to say. “While I truly appreciate your kindness, like I told you before, I prefer to be alone.”
He glances over at me. “I can’t be that bad.”
He’s staring at me nervously. He’s either searching for a compliment or wounded. I go with the latter. “Don’t be so easily offended.”
He strains his neck as he sits upright. “Don’t assume I am.”
“Don’t act like I hurt your feelings and I won’t.”
He leans back into his seat and his shoulders relax. “I’m not the least bit upset. It would take more than you’ve got, Eliza.”
“What’s your deal?” I ask, facing him.
“My deal? Well, I don’t offend easily. Probably because I’ve learned that—”
“I don’t want to hear your life story. Why do you insist on calling me every derivative of Elizabeth rather than the name I prefer?”
His eyes widen incredulously. “That bothers you?”
“Ding, ding, ding. Boy, you guys from marketing sure are smart. What gave it away?”
He smirks. “You might be just what I need.”
I cross my arms. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? I’m not here for your entertainment.”
He scrubs his hand over his face. “That’s not what I meant.”
I turn toward my window. This ride can’t get over fast enough. I don’t do well with others. This is further proof. I vow to get to work and never speak to him again.
“I apologize. I really didn’t mean to anger you.” He hesitates, waiting for a reply. “When I said you might be what I need, I meant that—”
I can’t take it anymore. “I don’t care what you meant. I don’t know you, you certainly don’t know me, and you don’t owe me any explanations. Let’s just get through this drive and be done.”
“I realize how it might have sounded and I’d like to explain if that’s alright.”
“Please don’t. I really don’t care.” I take out my earbuds and stuff them into my ears, turning on my music as loud as I can without causing myself to go deaf. I pull out my notebook and start writing my story of the day. It just happens to be about a guy named Finn who pushes my buttons in a way I’ve never experienced. It’s cathartic and when I’m finished, we’re almost to work.
I turn off my music but leave the buds in my ears so he won’t try to talk to me. I feel a little bad for being so curt, but I’m afraid to say anything to him because I don’t want him to think we could ever really be friends. He and I are just way too different. I’m not easy to deal with and I don’t want to explain why.
Attempting to look at him without him noticing, I angle my eyes in his direction without moving my head. He’s on the third coffee and shuffling a bit in his seat. I wonder if he has
to pee. I stifle a snicker.
He turns to regard me, smiling brightly. “Are you still angry with me?” he asks.
Shrugging, I remove the buds from my ears. “I told you not to drink all that coffee.”
“I’m fine.”
“Are you? Because by the way your leg is shaking and you’re squirming in your seat, I’d say you’re about to piss your pants.”
He lifts the iced coffee and takes a sip. “If I had to pee, would I be drinking more?”
I roll my eyes. “God, you have to prove your point, don’t you? Okay, fine. You bought the extra coffees for yourself. You win. Now stop before you squirt all over your steering wheel.”
He stares at me blankly and sets the coffee down. “Well, if you’re uncomfortable and concerned, I’ll stop so you feel better.”
I pucker my lips and nod, feigning appreciation of his sacrifice. “It’s so considerate of you to do that for me.”
“I’m just glad you’re speaking to me.”
“Finn…”
“I know, you like to be alone, talking annoys you, and I talk way too much.”
I lean my body to the left to face him better. “What I was going to say is that I’m sorry for jumping all over you. I’m just weird with stuff.”
He turns his head briefly to look at me before refocusing on the road. “You’re not the least bit weird to me. I get you more than you realize.”
I don’t know what to make of his words so I say nothing, facing forward once again. He doesn’t understand that I don’t have many friends for a reason. A minute later, we’re in the parking garage.
We walk in silence to the elevator. He pushes my floor and then his. We exchange uncomfortable glances a few times before he speaks.
“I really do have to pee.”
I genuinely laugh and he stares at me, his eyes darkening more with each passing second. “God, you’re beautiful.”
The smile fades from my face at his words. The doors open for my floor.
I rush through them and rotate back to face him, barely able to make eye contact. “Thanks again for the ride. Bye, Finn. See you around.”
Confessions of a Carpool Captive Page 3
