Page 62 of Twisted Control

Drew does it smoothly, easing the car to the curb.

I reach for the handle, then pause. “You’ll stay in the car.”

“Fine.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “Fine? Since when do you let me out of your sight?”

He keeps staring through the windshield. “Honestly? Right now I could use the break. You’re fucking with my head more than usual.”

“What are you talking about? I’m not doing anything.”

Drew lets out a quiet laugh that sounds more tired than amused. He leans back in his seat, jaw tight, one hand drumming once against the steering wheel before going still.

Oh.

My.

God.

Suddenly everything clicks into place.

I stare at him. “You’re catching feelings for me.”

“No,” he says instantly. Far too quickly. “No.”

All the teasing. All the smug comments about me being obsessed with him. The constant accusations that I’m “catching feelings.”

“Oh, you absolute idiot,” I groan, dropping my head back against the seat. “You’ve been projecting this entire time.”

“I have not.”

“You are literally in love with me.”

“Jesus Christ.”

I turn back toward him—and stop. His face has actually gone pink. Not smug. Not cocky. Not amused. Just deeply uncomfortable in a way I’ve never seen before. And all at once, the joke stops being funny. My irritation softens.

“Drew…”

He stares straight ahead. “Don’t.”

There’s this strange tight feeling in my chest. Somehow, somewhere along the line, poor Drew started imagining an actual future here.

“What exactly do you think happens after this?” I ask.

“We keep seeing each other.”

“You think we could have a relationship?”

“Fuck no,” he says immediately. “I don’t do that kind of thing,” he mutters. “But when I’m done, we’ll keep seeing each other. I don’t want you seeing anyone else, and I won’t see anyone else either. We just…” He gestures vaguely between us. “Do this.”

“That is literally a relationship.”

“Don’t call it that.” He winces. “Makes it sound horrible.”

God.

He sounds so genuinely distressed by the concept that I almost smile.