Page 48 of Claimed By my Father's Enemies
"No need. Where to?" Adrian says. He reaches across and adjusts the heating. Warm air starts moving from the vents and I turn my face toward the nearest one and stay there.
I give him the address to Boyle Heights, where I live and settle back waiting for the question. Waiting for him to ask me what happened.
It doesn't come.
He merges onto the freeway. His hands sit easy on the wheel. His eyes hold the road. And he doesn't ask.
He doesn’t care.
The warmth coming from the vents doesn't touch the cold I feel in my chest. He came because I called and he'll drive me home because he said he would. That's what this is.
I look at the city going past the window. Freeway lights. Billboards. I watch the skyline against the dark and I press my thumb into my index finger.
A sign comes up for the Highland Park exit. I try to gather courage to say something. But what?
“Thank you for coming to my rescue.”
“I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”
“I’m not what you are thinking of me.”
By the time we turn onto my street I know that whatever was beginning between us is now over.
I see the party before we're halfway down the block.
Every light is on in the apartment. Music thumping through the walls from here. People on the front steps with drinks, someone sitting on the porch railing, the gate standing open.
I'd completely forgotten. Emma, my roommate, mentioned it last week. Something about her cousin, a birthday…but last week now seems like a different life time.
I wanted a hot shower, a dark room and enough quiet to let my hands stop shaking without an audience. I look at the lights, the noise, the people, and I let go of that. There is no version of tonight where I get what I wanted.
Adrian pulls to the curb and cuts the engine.
I turn to him. He's not looking at me. He's looking at the apartment, his gaze moving across the lit windows, the people coming and going with drinks, the music now faintly audible even through the closed windows of the car. I can see the muscle in his jaw ticking.
I decide to make it easier for him.
"Thank you," I say. "For all of it. I mean it."
He turns and looks at me. He has an intense expression on his face I can’t decipher. He holds my gaze for a beat.
Then he faces forward, puts the car in gear, and presses his foot down on the gas.
"Fuck it," he says, and I don't know if I should feel relieved or terrified.
18
ADRIAN
"Where are we?" Sienna asks, looking around with unsureness in her eyes.
"My house."
She looks at the garage door as it descends behind us, then back at me. Trying to read whether that was the right call.
"I thought you'd want somewhere quiet," I say. "Hot shower. Something to eat." I let a beat pass. "And we need to talk about what happened tonight."
Her eyes widen slightly. Not scared. Surprised. Like she was not expecting me to say something like that.
