He was on his way out the office too. It'd been a long day. He couldn't get the words of the intern out of head. "Go fuck yourself," she said. He wasn't expected that. He expected her to cry or smack him. It was an enticing choice of words. He grabbed his bag and threw the strap over his shoulder before locking up his office and walking out. The office was near empty, some of the workers were wrapping up their last tasks of the door. He wasn't expecting rain either but it didn't bother him. He simply shrugged his shoulders and walked through the rain to his shiny, black Dodge Challenger. He was very proud of his car. It made him smile just walking towards it in the parking lot. He got in his car and shook the wetness from his hair. He put it gear and made his way toward end of the lot to the street. As he drove around, he noticed a figure in front of a beat up car flagging him down. It was obviously a girl; she had long legs and a nice ass in a pencil skirt. She was drenched from the rain. It was a matter of seconds when he realized who the distressed girl was. At first, he reveled in the irony; the same that she offended was the one that was willing to offer a helping hand.
Roxanne was ready to slam the hood of the trunk on top of her head at this point. She saw the car from across the lot and flagged it down. There was no way that was going to be stuck here for the night. It would be hours before her friends could come to her rescue. She figured it was a coworker but she never noticed the Challenger in the lot before. It was too late to turn by the time she realized who she'd flagged down.
"Fuck me," she muttered.
Roxanne wasn't a believer in karma, but the universe would force her to make contact with the same asshole that she cussed out less than four hours ago.
"Everything all right?" he asked her.
"Yeah," she said, "It's fine. My car just won't start. I thought you were somebody else."
She was a sight in his eye. There she was, standing in the rain with only binder covering her head. She made it sound like it was a normal thing.
"Need a hand?"
She couldn't swallow her pride quickly enough. He didn't look like he knew anything about cars.
"No, the hose is bust. There's nothing I can do about it right now."
"Well do you need a ride?"
"No, that's okay. I'm just gonna call my roommates or somebody to pick me up."
"Somebody huh," he said sarcastically, "I can give you a ride, you know."
No way in hell, she thought.
"No, it's okay. I'm calling someone right now."
"It's the least I can do. I feel bad about earlier today."
"I don't," she muttered.
"It's because you don't know me, isn't it? If you're worried that I'm a serial killer, there are plenty of cameras in this parking lot that have seen this face. And if you go missing tomorrow, they'll know I was here, and we work at the same time tomorrow."
"It's fine. I don't want to put you out."
"Where are you going?"
She really didn't want to tell him. She also really didn't have another ride.
"Hull Street."
"I live on Hull Street," he said enthusiastically.
He opened his passenger door for her, "Hop in."
She didn't want to. It was a blow to her pride to accept his offer. She locked her doors and got in his car. He took her seatbelt and reached over her chest. He felt the slightest touch of her breasts as he buckled her in.
"Safety first," he said with a grin.
Roxanne didn't know what to think. She didn't know if he was being weird or over polite. The silence from the car as the rode along was too awkward for her; every other minute she'd find herself glancing over at him out of the corner of her eye. She hadn't noticed it before but he was quite cute. She had no idea his age but he was not older than 30 or younger than 22. He wore an alumnae ring but any class could buy those.
"You listen to Hip Hop," she commented, mildly surprised to hear familiar sounds of her 90's childhood on his stereo.
"What? You can have a name like 'O'Brien' but I can't listen to Hip Hop. I'm surprised at you. What a racist thing to say," he said.
Just like that, attempting to get started on the right foot was on the wrong foot again, she thought.
"I'm kidding," he said.
Roxanne didn't respond.
"What are you planning to get out this internship?" he asked.
"I want to build my skillset," she answered.
"That's pretty generic," he replied, "But if it's skills you need. I can help with that. I'm very experienced."
"I just bet you are," Roxanne said.
"You don't believe me?"
"I believe you. How can I not believe you, your arrogance is fogging up the windshield."
"You could learn a lot from me. I'm glad we're paired together."
"Why's that?"
"Because you're the only person that could tell me to go fuck myself and actually mean it."
"I shouldn't have said that. It was out of line."
"But you meant it. It's okay. I'm not offended. I see you still have a chip on your shoulder though."
"You're kind of immature, aren't you?" she asked.
"You're immature," he said, "But the difference between you and me is that I know how to mix business and pleasure. Believe me when I say I'll take pleasure out of working with you this year."
Roxanne didn't like the look in his eyes. He was looking at her with such intense eyes. She'd seen that look before in other men. Roxanne looked him in the eye. He was focused on her like she was a target on a bull's eye. She couldn't shy away from it. There was something about those ice blue eyes that all of a sudden made her forget to breathe. She didn't realize he pulled up at her complex. The storm had passed.
"How do you know this place?" she asked.
"I live here," he said, "3F. When you said Hull Street, I assumed we were in the same complex. Was I wrong?"
"No, you're not wrong," she replied.
What are the odds? She thought. She reached to unlock the door.
"I can drive you to your door."
"Here's fine," she said.
She was so stubborn but her attitude made him want to draw himself nearer to her. It was so hard to keep it together.
