Page 17 of Unspoken Rules (Rules 2)

I turn my head and see him driving. He’s been behind the wheel all night. This can only mean one thing: he’s taking me a lot farther away from Florida than I thought.

I refused to say a word to him from the moment he put me into the passenger seat of his ridiculously expensive car. He tried. He really did. But I have nothing to say to his player ass.

After keeping quiet for several hours, I ended up falling asleep. I have no idea where the blanket came from. Haze must’ve had it in his trunk and put it on me.

There he goes again doing the nicest thing ever to confuse me about the not so nice things he did before that.

“Good morning, sunshine,” he says, the sunrays illuminating the left side of his face giving him a freaking halo. Because he doesn’t already look like an angel enough as it is.

I ignore him and rub my eyes.

“Still not talking to me?”

I look out the window, resting my chin in the palm of my hand.

“Can I at least know why?”

I turn the volume to the radio up until the music is loud enough to cover up the awkward “I’m mad at you because you slept with Bianca” silence. Haze turns it down right away.

“You’re welcome for the blanket, by the way.”

No reply.

“You’ve got a little drool right there.” He points to the corner of his mouth.

My eyes widen and I quickly wipe away the drool from my mouth only to find out that it doesn’t exist.

“I do not!”

“I know, but you talked to me.” He grins.

“Idiot.” I mutter to myself.

“Seriously, what’s wrong? I thought you’d be happy to see me.”

“And why would you think that?” I huff.

“Man, I don’t know. Maybe because of what you said to Kendrick yesterday. You said and I quote, ‘You can’t stop me from seeing him.’ Now, I may not be an expert on female emotions and all, but that doesn’t sound like hate, does it?” he mocks.

“No, you know what? You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to make jokes after you just basically kidnapped me and punched my cousin in the face. Leave me alone.”

“So that’s what this is about.”

“Yes, it is,” I half lie. “Why did you do that?”

“Must I constantly repeat myself? I had two choices. A, take you away; B, respect the deal and leave you to die with your moronic cousin. I’d rather see you alive, thank you very much.”

A bit ironic that it took him a month to start worrying about my safety. I smell excuses.

“You don’t know that I was in any danger with the East side.”

“Yes, I do. They just lost a member to another gang. Word spreads. Everybody knows there was a traitor. They’re considered weak at the moment. Plus, like I said, it took me fifteen minutes to find you. You weren’t safe there.”

“What? And I’ll be safe with you?” I give him a challenging look.

“Of course, we’ll always be safe.” He smirks.

Why do I feel like he’s talking about something else?