Page 50 of The Night Shift

“Get fucked —”

The soft click of the seatbelt interrupts me.

“Now, we can leave.” Theo’s eyes leave mine to watch my throat bob as I swallow and he leans back into his own seat, his hand lingering for a moment before reluctantly pulling away. He eases away from the curb and cranks the heat up some more. My heart hammers against my chest and I touch my neck repeatedly. What…just happened? What the fuck was that and why didn’t I want it to stop? It’s as though someone just sucked all the air out of my lungs.

“Want some music?” he asks casually.

Heat rushes into my cheeks when I look away. I’d like to be witty and avoid stroking his ego, but I’m so flustered that all I come up with is, “No.”

A few more minutes drift by as he continues to drive. “I could’ve done that myself,” I say.

Theo chuckles and thousands of tiny butterflies flap their wings in the pit of my stomach. “I haven’t even played anything yet,” he says.

“I meant the seatbelt.”

“Ah,” he muses. Sarcastically, I’m sure. “I’m sorry about that.” He glances at me from the corner of his eye. “You all right?”

No. “Just drive.”

His gaze stays fixated on me for a second, before he turns to face the road. “Fifty bucks,” he says.

“What?”

“The fine for not wearing a seatbelt is fifty bucks. Didn’t want to risk it.”

“I’ve seen you wear a Burberry coat to work.”

His eyes stay on the road but the corner of his mouth arches up. “That’s a little creepy, Hollister. You sound like a stalker.”

Oh, how I wish I had my scalpel right now.

“So…music?”

I lean back in the seat, my posture still tense. “You listen to music?” My question is obviously rhetorical, but since Theo Carter is the actual bane of my existence, he answers anyway.

“The screams of your enemies tend to get a bit tedious after a point.”

Of course.I roll my eyes and reach forward and press the play button on his stereo. Nothing happens. So I press harder. “It’s broken.”

“Don’t hit it. Just press it gently.”

“Iampressing it gently.”

“No, you’re not.”

I glare at him. “Fine. You try then. Play something.”

“What would you like?”

The words shoot out of me before I have a chance to stop them, “I want to know what you like.”

Theo’s eyebrows rise, disappearing into his hairline. My words are met with silence. They hang in the air, consuming all the oxygen inside the car. Shocked is an understatement for how I'm feeling. Did I seriously just say that? Out loud?

You can tell a lot about a person from their playlist. My sister, for example, is a major Taylor Swift fan. Which explains a lot, since she’s a better human being than me. Generally speaking. Full of kindness and sunshine. Too good for this world.

My playlist, however, consists mainly of Chase Atlantic and Halsey. Which is basically code for “I'm hot, possibly depressed, and have a real talent for stabbing people.”

So, while I deeply regret having shown any interest in Theo’s likes and dislikes, a part of meiscurious about his taste in music.