Who Do You Love - Dean Ambrose

Getting to know You

For the first forty minutes I stuck to the rules. No fidgeting, no chitchat, no messing with the radio. Not that I actually had to on the latter point, since his taste in music was pretty damn good. Classic rock and a little heavy metal. I could certainly live with that. But what I couldn't live without – as it turned out – was the comforting noise of background chatter and without a verbal dialogue to distract me, my mind was stupidly free to wander.

Holy crap I was going to Baton Rouge and more than that, I was going to meet him. My heart pounded loudly and my palms were so sweaty that I had to keep rubbing them over my skirt, which was still a little wet from being stuck in the rain and therefore not a whole lot of help. But you know what? It didn't even matter because I was still taking the biggest step of life and the whole thing was just so amazing.

Or at least it was to begin with, because about fifty minutes into the journey – and with the storm clouds still glowering dark up above – the crippling doubt and gnawing insecurity decided to show up and flip everything on its head. What if I got there and he didn't want to see me? What happened if he did but then – I don't know – he didn't like me? What happened if I didn't like him?

Nor was that the worst of my problems.

I was in a car with a total stranger and no one in the world – except poor Roy and I doubted he'd be a credible witness – had any idea where the hell I was. They would probably find me in a ditch by the roadside or floating in a river, or buried in a wood. Was I insane? I must have been crazy and as a bolt of terror shivered right through me, I started to hunt in my pockets for my phone, pulling it free and trying not to tremble as I punched in a number I knew off by heart.

Dean's eyes shifted across from the wheel and I jumped a little when he finally spoke,

"What are you doing?"

"I – I'm phoning my friend. I promised to let her know where I was,"

"I thought I made it clear – no chitchat."

"You implied no chitchat with you."

"No I didn't," Dean growled back at me; not having looked over since we'd set off and his mood clearly not having evened out either, "No chitchat, means no chitchat period."

"Can we stop saying chitchat? It's starting to sound weird. Anyway, if I don't call her, she's probably just going to ring the police and – actually I've got a whole lot of people waiting to hear from me. So unless you let me call someone and tell them I'm safe, they'll all come searching for me – is that what you want?"

Throughout the sentence I'd been trying to sound threatening but the longer I spoke the more panicky I became and I could see Blue Eyes – whoops – Dean'ssmile widening. It wasn't exactly a kind smile either. It was more like a spider with its eyes on a fly. Perhaps he knew that it was all bullshit – that search and rescue was definitely not on its way. Yep. I really hadto be crazy. Finally however, he waved his hand,

"Knock yourself out Princess. Just make it quick."

I blinked at him. Princess? That was original. Because okay, so maybe I was a girl but it wasn't like I was a bottle blonde drama queen. Still, in the interests of self-preservation, I decided to not take offense at the nickname and instead hit the dial and held the phone to my ear.