Dangerous.

Chapter Thirteen

----Cassandra's POV.----

The sun was so warm and welcoming I had the sudden urge to practically sprawl myself under it. I settled to manage to stretch myself out while Tomlinson was fucking pushing the speed limit. I didn't even have the sense to make him slow down because the cool London air rushing through my hair and past my scalp was delicious when I had the warm sun beating down at the same time.

My eyes rolled to the back of my head as I stretched my arms above my head to feel the wind, the only sound was wind rushing by and the engine purring with wheels working. I loved it, I loved this. I felt at peace, so calm, so..

normal.

Bizarre feeling really but I absolutely loved it.

"Tomlinson," I laughed when he swiveled a little on the road. "You're as nervous as a-"

"I'm not nervous," he said rather loudly. "I'm just distracted."

"Distracted?" I snorted, clicking my seatbelt back on. "By what?"

"You."

"Me?"

"Yeah.." He nibbles on his bottom lip nervously as he looks me up and down to prove his point. I roll my eyes and was midway to putting my sunglasses back on when he stops me.

"Don't," he put his right hand over them, eyes still on the road.

"Why not?"

"I fancy seeing your eyes right now," he stuttered slightly. I noticed he didn't usually stutter as a nervous habit, it was his natural habit.

"Well," I turn away from him and look at the body if water we were passing by. "They aren't going anywhere."

god that made things awkward.

"What now?" Tomlinson asks me, switching to the right lane. I merely shrug, not sure where we were even driving to.

"Go wherever you want pop star," I grinned, pinching his cheek lightly. "I really don't care."

"You're letting me have the privilege of choosing any place I want?" He asks in mockery surprise. I roll my eyes and nod, pointing to the horizon.

"I want to be home before dawn ok?" He nods, a smirk-grin on his face. I look more closely and discover that he has stubble facial hair all over his chin and jaw. Not that I take a better look at him, he's rather sexy. No longer that boyish band boy I once took him of but a... rocker kind of guy? Not punk, oh no. He had this edgy bad boy vibe radiating off of him that I didn't quite take a whiff of before. His tattoos were propionate, yes, but not impressive.

"Done staring?" He lets out a throaty laugh, looking in my direction and sending me a wink.

I laugh, "nothing much to stare at."

"Oh," he scoffs. "That so?"

"Very so, indeed."

His playful look quickly drops into a scowl as he turns on to the main road to London. "Cut that shit."

"Beg your pardon?" I sit up.

"That fake British crap," his voice is strong and firm. I liked that contrasted to his nervous chatter. "Cut that out, I know it's fake."

"Point being?" I continue with my false impersonation just to see how far I can take it. I've always been a risk taker not there's much risk here. Worst he could do was pull over but it's pretty stupid to do so if you ask me.

"Bloody hell."

"Bloody hell!" I mimicked him, moving my head to make it more offensive.

Instead of a scowl or maybe even a glare from him, I get a small sly smile. He shakes his head and continued driving, flooring it every now and then just to get rid of the slow asses out there.