The Adam Walton Effect

15. Friend and Foe

Bella Reynolds

"Can't you drive faster?"

It's been twenty minutes since Adam's been driving like a tortoise. It's very quiet, I can't even properly breathe. It's driving me crazy.

"That's just how I drive," he says without looking my way.

"That's too slow," I roll my eyes.

"It's my car, Reynolds. Let's go by my rules," he finally meets my eyes, but quickly averts.

"Let me drive if you are too afraid to drive a little fast," I say in a grating voice.

"There's no way in hell I'm letting you drive Debby. Luck seems to be against you tonight. What if you get us in an accident? I am not taking any risks."

Debby? What the hell? Does he name everything? What a child.

"God, you are such a child," I roll my eyes again. He can't see me doing that, but he knows I am getting annoyed.

"If you are such an adult, let's talk business," he slows down the car.

I meet his splendor forest-green eyes. He's already looking at me. "What business?"

"Come on, Cherry, use your brain. You owe me," he raises his eyebrow.

My mouth hangs open. "Owe you? What the hell do you mean?"

"Think harder," his focus goes back to the empty roads.

Of course, he'd do something like this. I knew he wasn't a saint who'd be kindly offering to give me a ride home. He had a plan. What if the serial killer he was talking about earlier happens to be him? I mean, he could easily get away with murder.

I recently watched Jeffery Dahmer with Aaron and all I can think about is getting eaten by Adam. Well, not in a sexual way. But in a Jeffery Dahmer kinda way.

"Come to the point, Adam."

"Fine. You owe me for the blazer and the car ride," he says softly.

"I said I'll pay you for your kindness," I say in a tight voice.

"And I said I'm not your driver, your highness."

That rhymed perfectly.

"Stop the car. I'll manage from here," I raise my voice. I don't have to hide my unpleasantness in this confined space.

"Are you sure, because we are still twenty minutes away from your place?" He questions, turning slightly towards me.

Twenty minutes my foot. He's getting on my nerves.

"I'd rather walk than owe you shit," I say in a clipped tone.

"So you prefer getting killed by a serial killer and raped by some drunk creep than being under my debt?" He tsks.

"That's right."

He has a point, but I don't care. I won't let him dominate his power over me. He needs to know that I'm not some damsel in distress waiting for him to save me so that he can use it later and make me feel weak.

"Here's the thing, Reynolds. Let's just settle your debt right here, right now," he says playfully. What is that supposed to mean? Right here, right now. His words kept wandering in my mind. Then it clicked.

"I'm not sleeping with you, Adam," I tell him in a disbelieving way.

"You won't regret it, trust me," he wets his lower lip.

"I'd rather choke to death than be in the same bed with you," I yell. "Even in a dream," I quickly add.

What a dirty prick. How can he say stuff like this so casually? Should I slap him? Well, he deserves it. Can't he see a wedding ring on my ring finger? I forgot I'm not wearing it. But he has seen it before. He knows I'm married.