'tis the damn season

Eight: The Man

"If I was out flashing my dollars I'd be a bitch not a baller, they paint me out to be bad, so it's okay that I'm mad" 

"You don't drive like I thought you would," I blurt out, while stopped at a traffic light.

Steve just looks over at me in the passenger seat with a curious look on his face. "Do you think about me driving often?" He asks with a smirk on his face, backing me into a corner I'd created for myself.

I roll my eyes and sigh heavily. "Of course not. It didn't really occur to me until I opened the door to get in," I explain. "I wasn't sure if I wanted to go with you if you were going to drive like a maniac, but you don't."

I shouldn't have gotten in the car. He looked so content with me sitting here, meanwhile I wanted nothing more than to jump out the door. Sitting this close to him, I could smell whatever cologne it was he used. It annoyed me that he smelt good. Like the forest or something. Like a boy.

I see a small smile creep across his lips. "I'm pretty sure that was a compliment so I'll take it," he states, looking proud of himself.

I decide to clear things up for him. "It wasn't, you drive like a grandma."

He immediately looks offended. "I do not," he argues.

I lean over in my seat towards him to look at the speedometer. "There's no one in front or behind us, and you're going four miles under the speed limit," I complain. "It's going to take us twice as long to get there at this rate."

"Would you rather us be pulled over for speeding and it take longer? The police officers don't have much to do in Hawkins you know. All they do around here is stick parking tickets to people's windshields, and pull people over who are speeding," Steve reasons.

"Did you know that you can be pulled over for going too slow too?" I ask, crossing my arms over my chest. At this point it was just fun to see him get all flustered. He was gripping the steering wheel noticeably tighter now.

"Yes I did, but that only happens when you're going dangerously slow, not comfortably slow, there's a difference."

I see the bookstore up ahead and remember I still have my resume in my hand. "Can you park up there?" I ask, pointing at the empty spots on the side of the road out front of the store.

Steve just nods seeming to be worked up from our little argument. He pulls over stopping the car and killing the engine.

"I'll just be two minutes," I say, opening the door and stepping out onto the side walk.

"Do you want me to come?" Steve asks, lowering his head down so he can see me through the open door.

I shake my head. "No," I say, shutting the car door without another word.

I walk happily into Marjorie's and smile at the girl sitting at the front desk. The conversation was brief. She honestly didn't seem very excited to be working there, but she promised to give the owner my resume.

I left a minute later, avoiding the aisles and aisles of books practically calling out to me, only to almost bump into someone as I walk out of the store.

I got serious de ja vu. Only it wasn't Steve who I ran into this time.

This guy was tallish, his bright blue eyes felt as if they were piercing into my skin when he looked at me. He looked like one of those guys who could be incredibly charming one second and an angry bull the next.

"Woah, sorry, I didn't see you there," he smiles, his voice smooth and fake.

"Sorry," I say quickly, trying to walk around him. But when I stepped to the left, so did he.