“I saw you get into your car and start banging on the steering wheel,” he went on, like he knew what I was wondering. “I don’t have any jumper cables.”

Of course he didn’t. His car was not even a year old. His car before that had been a midnight blue BMW that couldn’t have been more than three years old.

“Get in,” he kept going.

“I—”

“I’ll give you a ride. Stop overthinking it. You don’t even have to pay me.”

Oh God. I hated him. I hated him even more when he smiled like he thought he was hilarious.

I could call Jojo or Tali or Ben or James or Ruby. They would come get me. I knew they would. Even if they were already over at my mom’s.

“You really want to wait around here for someone to come get you?” he asked, raising his eyebrows again.

He had me there.

But I also didn’t want to get into the car with him, so….

“Get in, loser.”

And that had me blinking. “Did you just quote—”

“I don’t have all day. Let’s go. You don’t want to wait around, and neither do I,” he finished before tipping his head toward his passenger seat.

Shit.

Two other cars had parked in the lot while we’d been arguing, and I could see the families getting out of their vehicles. Did I want to be out there arguing with Ivan while people watched? Maybe. But I had said we would do better and keep going with this fa?ade so….

“Fine,” I muttered, fully aware I sounded like an ungrateful ass and only slightly feeling bad about it. I took a step toward his Tesla and then stopped, narrowing my eyes at him. “You promise you won’t kill me?”

He grinned. “I promise if I do, it’ll be quick and painless.”

I did this to myself.

“I’m going to take a picture of your license plate so if my body comes up missing, they’ll check your car for my DNA.”

“I have bleach,” he returned immediately.

Why was he being… it wasn’t nice, but more… not a total asshole?

I frowned at him as I walked around the back of the car to take a picture of his license plate, because even though I realistically knew that Ivan wasn’t actually going to kill me, someone should still know where I was. At least that’s exactly what I would tell my sisters to do if they were in my position. You couldn’t trust anyone.

Circling back around the front of the car after sending my mom a picture of Ivan’s plate number, because if there was anyone who would raise hell to get me back, it was that woman, I got inside the car and set my duffel on the floor, then clipped my seat belt in.

Then, cringing on the inside, I turned to look at Ivan and forced an almost-smile on my face as I slowly murmured, “Thank you,” like each word was getting plucked out of my mouth with pliers.

“Don’t sound so excited,” he replied. Then he smiled. “Which bridge do you live under and how do we get there?”

“I can’t stand you.”

He snickered as he dropped his sunglasses onto the bridge of his nose and faced forward. “Where to?”

I wrinkled my nose but gave him the directions to start off, watching in silence as he turned one way and then the other before guiding the quiet, beautiful car onto the freeway. I took turns looking out the window, then glancing at the huge screen built into the dashboard, and then looking back at Ivan when I didn’t think he could see me. The last thing I wanted was for him to catch me taking in how perfectly shaped his nose was, and how well it fit into the profile of the rest of his bone structure. His jaw was this thing that I’d overheard the older teenage girls babble over. His cheekbones and brow bones were proportionate to the rest of his face. To me, his face reminded me of one that would belong to a prince or something. Royal.

Not that I would ever admit that.

And it wasn’t like it mattered when under that pretty face and pretty skin was evil incarnate.

“Take a picture, it lasts longer,” Ivan drawled all of a sudden.

I blinked and thought about glancing away but decided that would look even worse. “I will. I think the encyclopedia needs an entry on Assholes and could use your picture as an example.”

His right hand let go of the steering wheel and covered a spot over his heart. “Ouch.”

I snorted. “Oh please.”

He glanced at me with those crazy dark glasses covering his eyes. “What? You don’t think you could hurt me?”

“You need a heart for it to hurt.”

His hand didn’t go anywhere. “Ouch, Jasmine. Really. I have a heart.”

“It doesn’t count if it’s made out of sticks and stones and painted red.”

The only corner of his mouth I could see, turned up just a little. “I made it out of clay, Meatball. Give me some credit.”

I didn’t mean to. I really didn’t. But I snickered and turned my face away, like if he couldn’t see me doing it, it wasn’t actually happening.

“You know, we might be able to get along if we tried,” he said after a moment, while I still had my face turned away.

I wanted to look at him… because there was a lot a person’s face couldn’t hide, especially a face I figured I knew as well as Ivan’s… but I made sure to keep my gaze out the window. Because Ivan and me as friends? Why was he bringing it up and asking? I wasn’t sure what his motives were. “I don’t know about all that,” I told him honestly.

There was a pause as he kept driving. “You like my sister.”

“But you aren’t your sister. Your personalities are totally different.” Because they were. Karina was sweet most of the time, but had a backbone that I respected a lot. She didn’t take most things seriously, unless she really cared about them. She balanced me out. She was warm and easygoing where I… wasn’t.

He hummed but said, “I didn’t think you made so many excuses.”

Now that had me glancing at him. “I’m not making excuses.”

Ivan had his gaze forward as he said, “Sounds like it to me.”

“I’m not—” Was I? Shit.

“You always say you can do everything—”

“Because I can.” Then I frowned. “Lee only asked us to be nice to each other. We’ve been… handling it.”

He didn’t say a word; he just lifted his shoulder like he was egging me on. But why the hell would he do that?

“It’d be easier if you didn’t hate me,” he added.

I frowned at the windshield. “I don’t hate you.”

That time he did glance at me, his expression even, but something about it still disbelieving.

“I don’t hate you,” I repeated, looking at him even though he’d glanced away by then. “Why the hell would you think that?”

“Because you’ve said, ‘I hate you.’”

I blinked. “That doesn’t mean I really hate you. I didn’t know you were that sensitive. I don’t like you, but I don’t hate you-hate you.”

His snicker was annoying. “I don’t really care if you hate me.”

That had me rolling my eyes. “Let’s be friends, but I don’t care if we are or not, okay,”

I mocked him, shaking my head because that didn’t make any fucking sense at all.

“So?”

He was still going with this? “So what?”

“So, yes or no?”

Yes or no? To us being friends when I didn’t understand why he would bother to try? When he made it seem like he didn’t care whether we were or not? The fuck? Was this how people became friends in real life? I didn’t know. How the hell would I? Every friend I had I’d made back when I didn’t distrust every person I met.

And Ivan?

“I mean….”

“If you don’t think you can do it….” He trailed off with a shrug of those shoulders I’d put my hands on five thousand times in just a couple of months.

If I didn’t think I could do it….

Shit.

I watched his face, but nothing about it changed; he just kept looking forward. I felt… off, and weird. “What does it mean if we are? Do we have to do something or…?”

“I don’t know,” was his brilliant-ass and unexpected response. Because how did he not know? I’d seen him hundreds of times surrounded by people, smiling, hugging, acting like he loved attention and had been born to be the center of it every minute of his life.

But had I seen him actually talk to people before for longer than a few minutes?

Huh.

I wasn’t sure I had.

“I’ll think about it,” I said before I could stop myself.

That had him glancing at me, and if his voice was huskier than normal, I didn’t notice it. “Okay,” was his response.

What the hell did this all mean? What was I supposed to do? I wasn’t the type to hug for no reason, and I didn’t have time to hang out or whatever it was that “friends” did. I hadn’t lied. I didn’t hate him. I hated my ex and a few other people, but I just didn’t like Ivan. He was argumentative, arrogant, blunt….

I’d just described myself, hadn’t I? Shit.

This was never going to work. This was why I didn’t have friends, or more than a couple because—

Then I remembered this was Ivan. Ivan who had the same schedule I did. Ivan who didn’t have time either. Or did he? I didn’t know what he did when we weren’t together.

Could we… be friends? Or at least try to bicker less?