His soft hum vibrates through the space between us, the quiet chuckle he lets out against my earlobe sending a shiver down my spine. His voice is low, dangerous, as he leans in closer, his breath warm against my skin.
"You can keep lying to yourself...
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Song : Shut Up And Drive | Rihanna
𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐗𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐑𝐀 • 𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐒𝐁𝐘 ••••••••••••
Morgan swats at my ankle for the fourth time. "Get your damn feet off the dash."
I hiss, rubbing the spot. "I'm uncomfortable," I whine, turning to glare out the window.
I'd be better off as a pebble beneath the wheels of his car.
The ride home has been—predictably—rough. I was hoping, praying even, that he'd worn himself out from earlier.
From torturing me, obviously.
I grunt as the car swerves. My hands shoot to the sides of my seat. "Could you please drive like a normal person?" The words leave my mouth before I can stop them.
Morgan isn't a terrible driver. More like a "I'm genuinely afraid for my life when he hits the gas" kind of driver.
"Every time I catch sight of your face in the mirror, I have to fight the urge to drive into a ditch," he mutters. His eyes flick toward me, catching the horror on my face. "Consider it your doing."
I cross my arms and stubbornly look away. No point in engaging. Not with him.
Honestly, being stuck in a car with Morgan Vales is low on my list of things I wanted tonight. But as my brain spirals into full-on breakdown mode, I have to admit—begrudgingly—I'm grateful for how fast he's driving.
All I want is my bed. A bowl of cereal. Maybe a dumb movie playing in the background while my thoughts scatter like pigeons in a storm. My head feels like a circus, and I hate it.
My routine is wrecked. My sense of control, my peace—shattered.
In other words: I'm miserable.
Which explains why I've taken up the very mature coping mechanism of pissing Morgan off just to get a laugh.
He's mostly quiet—only speaking to mutter something rude whenever I do something mildly irritating.
Which, I'm starting to realize, is something I do when I'm bored.
The thought makes me want to roll my eyes so far back they never return. I'm no better than him. I've basically conditioned myself to find his rage amusing.
My head knocks against the window I'd been leaning on. I groan and rub my eyes. "How much longer?"
Morgan's jaw ticks in my peripheral. "Alex," he grits out, voice low and sharp. "Ask me that again and I'll toss you from the fucking car."
And then he speeds up.
I gape at the red light as he breezes through it. "That was a red light!" I splutter.
