โWho are you?โ
โDoes it matter?โ I cock a brow, challenging her to care.
She laughs, and itโs like music, free and unencumbered.
โNo, I guess it doesnโt.โ
We stare at each other for several quiet seconds, the beat of my breath matching hers. Her eyes are glassy and unfocused, her face so serene that I feel relaxed because of it.
โYouโre pretty,โ she says on an exhalation of breath.
Pretty?
Flowers are pretty. The sky is pretty. Women are pretty.
I am none of those things.
โYouโre drunk, and Iโm not pretty.โ
Adeline pushes up to kneel in her seat and leans over the center console, her palm cupping my cheek as tender as a lover.
โYes, you are. But youโre flawed. I can see all the mistakes. Youโre gorgeous because of those flaws.โ
My eyes widen, heart hammering. She needs to go. This is too much. Too close. How the fuck does she know that?
Itโs the tragic artist in her. She looks for the cracks and fissures, the imperfections in anything she sees.
Her sloppy grin widens, pearly white teeth glimmering beneath.
โItโs okay. Iโm flawed, too. Would you like to see?โ
What a stupid question. I donโt need to see. I already know all her flaws. I could write a fucking book about them.
Adeline doesnโt wait for an answer before climbing over the center console to straddle my lap. And while I should open my door to jump away, I find myself sucking in a breath, my body going far too still.
She leans forward to press her mouth to my ear.
โI donโt even know your name, and all I want to do is kiss you right now. How fucked up is that?โ
Extremely. It is just one of the things about her that drives me crazy. Donโt get me wrong; I love that about her. But I also hate it.
โWe shouldnโt do that,โ I answer.
โI like doing things I shouldnโt.โ
Yes, yes she does. She really is a little monster.