Page 57 of Dangerous Encore
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Bella
Ihatedriving.
Joel tried to teach me, but I was a nervous wreck. I had to take a dozen lessons with a drivinginstructor.
I got my license a few months after I moved in with Joel. It's been a year and a half now,moreeven.
But I still hatedriving.
It makes my stomach twist inknots.
It makes my breath shallow andstrained.
It makes me want tothrowup.
But I don't know if it's driving doing itrightnow.
I…
I can't think about this. Not today. Certainly not tomorrow. Maybe Sunday night, after I drop Dad off at theairport.
Maybe I can think aboutitthen.
That's four little days of suppressing the question burning in mybrain.
Four days convincing Joel there's nothing onmymind.
I can dofourdays.
Intheory.
I try to breathe deep as I pull into the parking garage. It's empty this late the night before Thanksgiving, but that doesn't make me feel any more comfortable behind thewheel.
Not even Lady Gaga's complaints of her shitty romance can distract me today. This song is usually my go-to pick me up, but, right now, I can barelyhearit.
I turn the car off and check my makeup in the rearview mirror. Only I'm no longer wearing any makeup. The shower washed itallaway.
Alessandra has seen me like this a million times. I shouldn't care. ButIdo.
I spend a few minutes covering my under eye circles and touching up my lipstick. There. I don't look tired andnervous.Just…
Distracted, Iguess.
Who's focused on work the night before a four-day weekend,anyway?
I grab my purse, lock my car, walk to the elevator. It's empty, but that doesn't stop my head from filling with memories of being in this tiny space with Joel, pressed against the elevator wall, making out like no one waswatching.
Or maybe, in our case, like everyone waswatching.
The elevator stops at our floor withading.
The lobby is empty. All the lights are off, save the one in Alessandra'soffice.
She's sitting behind her desk, on the phone withsomeone.
It must be that radio asshole who keeps trying to kick Wicked Beat out of the station's holiday concert. It's personal—apparently, Logan stole his girlfriend a long, longtimeago.
