He doesn’t respond, looking bored as he types on his phone, his elbow perched on the leather divider between us. He has a fresh tattoo on his hand, which somehow makes it look even more veiny. I gulp, quickly looking away before he notices me letting my gaze travel up the new tattoos littering his body. His knees parted, gym shorts showing off his legs, he leans back against the driver’s seat, still texting. My scowl deepens as I watch him reply to messages instead of driving me home.
