𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 [18+]

- 10 -

"Where are we going?" I start, staring at the road ahead of us.

I turn my head to the side when no answer comes. Val completely ignores me, focusing solely on driving to wherever the hell he's taking us.

"I should reach home by 9."

"Or my dad's going to kill Ford. Then he's going to kill you. And finally, he's going to kill me."

"Are you even bothered?"

Still no answer.

Eventually, I give up and shift my gaze to the window, watching the scenery blur past. The silence in the car is oppressive, and trying to get a response from Val feels as futile as talking to walls. The frustration bubbles inside me, but I know better than to push him further.

"Do you like vanilla?"

I hold back the string of swear words on my tongue.

"Vanilla what?" I question back.

"Let's start with sex," he replies casually.

My heart skips a beat, and a wave of shock crashes over me. I gape at him, my mind racing to process his audacity. "Excuse me?" I finally manage to sputter, unable to believe what I'm hearing.

"Hell will freeze over before I answer that question," I snap, feeling the heat of anger and embarrassment rise to my cheeks.

Val smirks, clearly amused by my reaction. He glances at me briefly before returning his focus to the road. "Feisty," he chuckles, the sound low and almost appreciative. "Just like I expected." His nonchalance only fuels my irritation, but I bite my tongue, determined not to give him the satisfaction of another outburst.

I cross my arms, staring out the window, trying to ignore the knot of frustration tightening in my chest. The city lights blur past, and I can feel his eyes on me intermittently, assessing, probing.

"You know," he starts again, his tone lighter but still laced with that irritating confidence, "you don't have to be so uptight. It's just a question."

I whip my head around, incredulous. "Just a question? You think that's appropriate small talk?"

Val shrugs, a sly grin playing on his lips. "Depends on the company. Besides, I thought you might appreciate someone being direct for once."

I let out a harsh laugh. "Direct? You call that directly? It's more like inappropriate and presumptuous."

He raises an eyebrow, his expression turning serious for a moment. "Maybe. But I'd rather be blunt than play games."

"Some things require a little more finesse," I retort, my voice colder now. "Not everything is about winning some power play."

His smirk fades, replaced by a thoughtful look. "Fair point," he concedes quietly. "But you should know by now, I don't do finesse."

I roll my eyes, turning my attention back to the window. "Obviously."