Humming under her breath, she flings her bag onto the passenger floor before reaching for her seatbelt.
“So where are we going?”
Sara screams, hand flying to her chest as she pivots in her seat to glare at him. The wide grin he wears only fuels her fear induced fury. “What the hell is wrong with you?!”
“Loaded question, I’m afraid,” he says, blinking into the passenger seat. “But in this case, I suppose my fault lies in being prone to boredom. Also, you forgot to turn the telly on.”
She runs a hand through her hair, trying to convince her heart to calm. She can still feel it banging mercilessly against her ribs. “You always managed to turn it on before.”
“Only with our dear Ansel’s help.”
She manages to restrain the urge to remind him that Ansel is her cat and no one else’s. “And today is different because?”
“He’s napping.”
Sara stares at him, anger mounting, before she shakes her head and starts the car. “You’re impossible,” she hisses.
A beat of silence. Sara can almost feel the shift in him. “You were actually frightened.” A statement, not a question—one Sara doesn’t bother responding to. “My apologies, it wasn’t my intention.”
Gritting her teeth, she turns the key until the engine sputters to life. “Sure.”
“I can’t lie.”
She swallows, chewing on her words until they soften. As much as she hates to believe him, she doesn’t really have a choice in the matter. “Just… don’t ever do that again.”
He nods, eyeing her strangely. “Very well...”
Sara can still feel the question in his gaze after she pulls out of the parking garage, but it takes her another minute before she can answer it. “There’s that story,” she mutters, feeling silly even as she says it. “The one with the killer in the backseat. It’s always freaked me out, ok?”
“Ah,” he breathes, “I see.” Somehow, she doesn’t doubt that he does.“Would it be any consolation to know that particular story is merely an urban myth?”
“It really wouldn’t.” Her phone rings, breaking through the silence with a jingled merriment that grates on her nerves.
Seth raises a brow as her hand fumbles blindly through the messenger bag at his feet while keeping her eyes on the road. “Jingle Bell Rock?”
“Jen,” she growls, ignoring his bark of laughter as her fingers finally find her phone. She pulls it out, glancing at the screen before hanging up and dropping it into the cup holder with a muttered curse. “I swear to god, these telemarketers have it out for me.” She turns a corner, glowering. “Also, remind me to take off that stupid ringtone later.”
“Not feeling the Christmas spirit?”
“We haven’t even made it through Halloween.”
“Fair enough,” he chuckles, settling into the seat and watching several streets pass as she drives. “I’m surprised you don’t plan on joining the festivities,” he says eventually, seeming genuinely curious. His gaze snags on a toddling ghost buster and he smirks. “Seems a shame to waste such a delightful holiday.”
Sara rolls her eyes, finger tapping on the steering wheel as she waits for the light to turn green. “No.”
“But why?”
“Because I’m an adult?”
“That’s hardly stopping your peers. I have it on good authority that even your BFF Jen is participating.”
Sara closes her eyes, sending up a quick prayer for patience before sending him a glare. “How many times do I need to tell you to stop spying on my friends?”
“At least once more, apparently,” he quips, unrepentant. “Besides, I would hardly call it spying. I just pop in every now and then to see how they’re getting on.”
“They don’t know you’re watching them. It’s spying, and it’s creepy.”
“If you’d rather keep me all to yourself, all you need to do is ask.”