Page 3 of The Love Penalty

She was watching me, no doubt hexing the back of my head with some spell that will make my brain melt or turn me into a useless, pussy blob.

Seriously, she reminds me of Narcissa Malfoy with her haughty looks. That gaze of hers could make the president feel like a cockroach.

Darting my eyes back to the front windshield, I turn the headlights on. The sun hasn’t set any faster than normal, but the gray clouds are making the world dark. The wipers brush across my windshield, and I focus on their rhythm while I stew in this painful silence.

Why did I agree to this?

She sat in the back.

The fucking back.

Like I’m her chauffeur or some shit!

Who does that?

I’ve given up the rest of my weekend for this chick. Sure, she could have caught the bus, but like any of us were gonna make her do that. And then I looked around the room and saw all of my favorite people lamenting an end to their awesome time in Denver, and I couldn’t let it happen.

So, I took one for the team.

I played the martyr card—wasn’t gonna waste that, now was I?

They’ll all owe me a little something, and I’ll collect when I’m ready. I guess I should at least be grateful for that.

But driving the ice queen home is not exactly fun.

It’s such a shame that someone so gorgeous can be so fucking annoying. She’s heading back a day early so she can study.

Seriously.

What a way to spend a Sunday. I mean, I should probably study, too, but who gives up Denver for the books?

It’s insanity, I tell you. In-san-i-ty!

Clenching my jaw, I battle against the mouthful of words I want to spew at her.

“What is your problem? We were all having a blast, and you had to go and ruin it, didn’t you? It’s kind of selfish, you know.”

But I don’t say any of it. If I dare to even speak, she’ll probably throw me one of those icy glares. Her luscious lips will pull down in that unimpressed frown, and I’ll be dodging metaphorical bug spray while my cockroach ass scuttles into hiding.

But this silence is fucking killing me.

And dammit, it’s my truck!

With a soft growl, I punch the console and turn on the radio, forgetting that I drove down here by myself the other day, because I was stopping off to say hi to my aunt and uncle first.

Classical music starts blasting through the speakers, the energetic strings taking up every square inch of my truck.

Yes, shut up, I listen to classical music, okay? I like it. And the only time I ever get to hear it is when I’m by myself, so of course I pumped that shit until I was surrounded with a symphony of sound that made me feel like I could fly.

My eyes bulge as I start jabbing the screen, muttering lies while trying not to look in the rearview mirror. “Who’s been messing with my console? Damn radio.”

I dart a look at the road before struggling to change my tunes, then giving up with a huff and turning it off.

That’s when I hear her soft laughter. It’s more mockery than anything, and it gets my back up.

“I don’t know who was messing with?—”

“I love The Four Seasons by Vivaldi. It’s inspirational. ‘Winter’ is my favorite season from that piece.”