Page 6 of Watcher

“Okay, so what does that mean?” My voice shakes. I hate to admit it, but I’m shaken up.

“It means no more stops until we get there.”

“What if I have to pee?” I whine. Funny how your bladder immediately rebels when someone tells you can’t go to the bathroom. It’s a freaking biological mystery.

“You’ll hold it.” His curt voice holds an authority I haven’t heard before.

“What if I can’t?” His eyes quickly flicker to mine, then back to the road. “Ew, no.”

“Stop talking about it.”

“Ugh.” The thought of peeing my pants in front of Ethan is mortifying. “How much longer?”

“He checks his watch, where the GPS instructions loom. “About three hours.”

“Three hours? Did you see how much water I drank? It’s important to stay hydrated—“

“Stop!” His giant palm extends in my direction. “I can’t pee either, so we’re in this together. Get it?” His brow furrows. Even in a stressful situation, he’s the most handsome man I’ve ever laid eyes on. The bump in his nose indicates it’s probably been broken a few times. This turns me on more than it should.

“Fine. Then we’ll have to do something to keep our mind off it.” I reach for the radio, but on these back roads, we’re met with nothing but static. I reach for my phone, hoping there’s an adaptor in the glove box, but come up empty. Having been made to leave it behind for tracking reasons, I’m totally communication-less—including music.

I slap the tops of my thighs. “Guess we’ll have to talk.”

“Goody.” His words drip with sarcasm. I let out a little scoff of a laugh. As much as I hate to admit it, the fact that he isn’t fawning all over me is like a magnet. The men I’ve dated have either been considered “in society” or just total money-grubbing losers with no inkling of how to handle a woman like me.

Ethan doesn’t use kid gloves with me. I’m not even sure he likes me. That in and of itself is something so new, so fresh. I could straddle him right now.

Again, I find myself striking a sexual thought about him from the record. Even if we did fuck, it’s not like things could ever work out between us. We’re from totally different worlds. It’d certainly never fly with my father.

“What’s your favorite movie?” He asks.

“Me?”

“No, the other person in the car.” The slightest half-smile plays on his lips.

“I really like Bridesmaids. Kristen Wiig is hilarious.”

Ethan nods, assessing my choice. “Good one.”

“You’ve seen it.” I shift my weight to face him.

“Who hasn’t?”

“Color me impressed,” I say. “What about you? What’s your favorite movie?”

“Hands down, A Walk to Remember.”

“With Mandy Moore?” I can’t hide my surprise.

“Yeah. You seen it?” I let out a real laugh. That was the last movie I’d have expected him to say. One of the Avengers movies. Hell, the Rocky saga. Anything but a sappy teen flick based on a book by Nicholas Sparks.

“No, I haven’t seen it.”

“Woo.” Air escapes his full, kissable lips. “It’s a tear-jerker. You’ll have to see it sometime.”

“I don’t cry at movies.”

“What?” His voice booms. “Impossible.”

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