Page 33 of Illegal Formation
“You don’t want this car,” I said, gesturing to the Toyota Camry.
“It’s a fine car.”
“It’s the exact same one you had before.”
“Precisely. Which means it’ll feel like home.”
“Yeah, if home were a can on wheels destined to bring down your fuckable score.”
“What exactly is my score at the moment, if I may ask?”
“Without this car, you’re a solid eight. With it, however, you sink to a five, at least.”
“Only an eight? You wound me.”
He covered his chest and stumbled back a bit, but then his smile fell and he turned to the saleswoman, who was glancing between the two of us like we were insane.
“I would love to get the paperwork going on this one. Thank you,” he said to her.
“Actually, he would like to get the paperwork going on the 2024 Bronco Sport that we test drove before,” I interjected, pinning the saleswoman with a sweet smile that I turned to Braden next before mirroring his words. “Thank you.”
“No,” Braden said, and the way he snapped the word with authority sent a delicious shiver down my spine.
This fucking man and the way he makes my insides twist up into a thousand knots.
“Yes,” I combatted.
“It’s out of my budget.”
“Your budget is dumb.”
“It’s twice the price of the Camry.”
“And the Camry is twice as old with three times the miles on it.”
“This isn’t your decision to make.”
The poor saleswoman cleared her throat, clasping her hands together behind her back before she backed away with a hesitant smile. “I’ll give you two a moment to talk.”
Braden smiled at her in return before firing a glare at me once we had space to ourselves. “What the fuck, Emily?”
“Braden, stop being dumb. See? I can use your name, too.”
He flattened his lips. “Charming.”
I sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be abrasive — even though I realize that is exactly what I’m being.”
“I would have saidbrat, but abrasive is close enough.”
I ignored the jab, focusing on the task at hand. “I realize we come from different backgrounds, okay? You’ve mentioned that you help your family out and I’m the exact opposite. It’s my parents footing most of my bills — especially on dancer wages. But,” I continued, pointing at the car Braden was trying to buy. “You don’t want that crappy Camry and you know it.”
“I told you, I like the car fine.”
“Not as much as you like that Bronco.”
“Which I shouldn’t have test driven in the first place. I only did so to make you shut up.”
“There are much more fun ways to make me shut up, for the record.” I held up a finger with a teasing smile, but apparently this was not the moment to make sex jokes because Braden wasn’t having it. I huffed. “Look, Iknowyou want that Bronco. You lit up when you were behind the wheel. You were like a kid in a candy store with all the buttons inside it — probably because you’ve been driving a car that still had a cassette player in it.”
