Forces of Nature

Revelations

I glanced uncertainly out the window. We were parked on the side of the road in a neighbourhood I'd never been to before. A cul-de-sac, the street was filled with large one storey houses, each with a spacious front yard and an accommodating porch. Most had wide double garages at the end of their paved drives. Pretty much the picture of a neighbourhood for upper middle class families. Clean, tidy and organised, the kind of area where children could play outside without worrying about lunatics in cars running them down or neighbours declaring war on each other.

The drive over had been accomplished in a surprisingly awkward silence. Tyson had spent the entire twenty minutes shooting death glares at his dash and gripping the wheel so tight his knuckles had turned white. It was clear that he didn't want to be here, wherever here was. All that was left was for me to figure out why we were here, and what had set him so on edge. There was enough tension engulfing the interior of the car, if I breathed hard enough I thought I would choke on it. And a Tyson with steam coming out his ears was a Tyson nobody wanted to be friends with, let alone be the girlfriend of.

That thought sent a wave of giddiness through me and I had to stifle a grin. The whole situation still felt kind of surreal. Like I would go to sleep tonight, wake up tomorrow and discover it was all just a dream.

Beside me, Tyson let out a sigh of deep frustration and released his death grip on the steering wheel. In jerky, agitated movements, he thrust both hands through his long black hair, then rested his head back against the seat and closed his eyes. Funny, it was like he'd completely forgotten I was here with him.

"Uh, we're not at Aidan's by chance, are we?" I asked with a nervous giggle when it was obvious he wasn't going to kick off our little excursion with some kind of introduction.

Tyson's eyes snapped open and he turned to face me so fast I heard his neck click twice. I don't know what I saw flash across his face first: A) surprise at the fact I'd spoken because, yes, he had actually forgotten I was in the car with him, B) confusion over my random statement, but hey, it's not like he'd been forthcoming with our whereabouts, or C) barely suppressed rage at the mention of the guy who'd succeeded in using me as his personal punch bag. By the time he spoke, a disturbing combination of all three emotions were contorting his features into a severe frown.

"Why would I drive you over to Aidan's?" he asked incredulously.

I shrugged, meeting his stare head on, and amazingly enough tried again to hide my smile. He just looked so baffled and angry it was almost comical.

"I don't know. A wild guess. I mean, the last time you looked this close to murdering someone it was because Aidan was beating me up. I just figured he had something to do with your current horrendous mood swing," I said.

His scowl deepened. "I don't have mood swings. I'm a guy. We're much simpler than that. We're either pissed off or we're good. There's not really an in between."

I couldn't help but gape at him. Was he serious?

"Tyson, you have three modes." I held up my fingers as I listed them. "Angry. Angrier. And angriest."

"And that's your professional opinion, is it?" he asked. I was nodding sombrely before he'd finished his sentence.