His Identity

11

Being in Nick's car alone with him is proving to be very depressing.

I don't know what pushed me to agree to do that when I could've taken my own car. I'm still trying to figure out why he'd ever ask me to come with him in the first place.

My mind's screaming at me that this is a trap. He's acting like my presence doesn't annoy him either because he wants something from me or he just needed to get me in the car so he could kill me and get rid of me once and for all.

I think it's the latter because what could he possibly want from me? I have absolutely nothing to give him.

I've been sitting and fidgeting with the bracelets on my wrists ever since I got into the car. Weirdly, he told me to get in the passenger seat with the excuse, 'I don't wanna seem like I'm your driver or some shit like that.'

My eyes fell on his hands and I can't help but watch as his muscles flex when he'd turn the steering wheel every now and then. The veins and tattoos on his hands along with the rings on his fingers alone are filling my mind with thoughts I didn't know I'd ever have about him out of all people.

That's Nick for fuck's sake.

You hate him, Aveline. He's a dick to you. My subconscious reminds which has me advert my eyes from his hands. I'm probably looking like a creep right now.

Shit. Thank god he hasn't noticed. Even I didn't know what I was doing until I realised that I was literally drooling over someone's hand.

Their fucking hand.

Like, seriously? I need to get a grip on myself. It's getting weird.

The only sound I can hear is the music he's put on earlier. I've never heard of it but it's good. There's this silence that's settled in between the two of us that neither of us are daring to break. It's not like I have anything to say to him except that one question which has been on my mind ever since we left my house.

What does he want from me?

The reluctancy he had before he offered me a ride made it pretty fucking clear that he didn't want to do that. It's annoying, really— when someone's only being nice to you or doing some shit for you only because they're expecting for you to give them something back in return. And they make it obvious.

But I'm used to it, I shouldn't be. And I hate it. 

I've been waiting for him to crack and finally ask me what the hell he could possibly want but he hasn't. Maybe he's waiting for a better opportunity or maybe I just need to give him a push.

My mouth runs before I can stop it and the question flows out, "are you expecting something from me?"

I don't miss the way his fingers tighten around the steering wheel as he glances at me from the corner of his eyes for a brief second before focusing on the road ahead once more. "Why would you think I am?"

"You're not?" I scoff, staring at the side of his face while I try to ignore how incredibly pretty he is.

"No," he sounds like he's being genuine, "I'm not."

Now, he's either a good actor or he's being for real. It's hard to tell.

"Really?"

His jaw clenches as he inhales sharply through his nose. He looks like he's refraining himself from snapping at me. Weirdly, his voice comes out calm and collected, "it's just a ride, Aveline."

That's the first time he's saying my name.

Why do I like it better coming from him? Fucking hell.