Don't Say Anything

75. It Would Be A Death Wish

Will's POV

I can't believe I'm sitting in a car with the last fucking person I ever wanted to see again. It's been so hard to try and forget things that happened in California, it's been almost impossible. Annabelle is one of those things that slip into my conscious every once in a while just to remind me what a fuck-up I am. And now she's here, bringing my memories back as clear as ever.

"What are you doing here?" I'm the first one to speak once we're both in my car.

"I work for Mr. Kitelinger."

That must be Mr. Washington.

"Washington?" I ask.

"What?"

"You live in Washington now?"

"Oh, uh yeah. As of a few months ago."

I don't know why I'm making small talk with this girl after everything. I should be ignoring her and just dropping her off at wherever we're going without another word. My curiosity gets the best of me, as always. 

"Why'd you move there?"

I can feel her eyes staring at me, but I don't remove mine from the road.

"A job opened up. It's hard to get a decent job at California's WOA. Washington had more options."

"You didn't have to work at World of Art."

"No," she says back in a sweet but assertive voice. "I didn't have to, but I wanted to. It's the best place to work with an art degree, or in your case, no degree."

"Watch your mouth or I'll drop you off at the next bus stop." She really shouldn't be trying to make me more frustrated with this situation than I already am.

"I meant it as a complement."

"You were implying, just like how everyone else does, that I got my job through Leah."

"I know you didn't, Will. I was an intern at the same time as you. I saw you climb the corporate ladder faster than anyone thought possible. It's amazing that you have the job that you do without a degree."

I allow myself one glance in her direction before focusing on the car in front of me again.

"You haven't changed much," I mutter.

"But it seems you have." I hear the smile in her voice and know what she means.

"I don't know how you would know that. I've been nothing but rude to you."

"Not nearly as rude as you used to me, and not nearly as drunk."

My fingers clench around the steering wheel. "I never got drunk when I was at work."

"I'm sorry," she says immediately. "I shouldn't have said that."

I count each yellow line on the pavement to calm myself. I feel claustrophobic and I have the need to go for a walk. Maybe I do pace when I get stressed out.

"On the left hand corner," Annabelle says after an eternity of silence. Thank God this is over. I'll make sure I'm too busy to ever take Mr. Washington's personal assistant home again. As long as she stays on the visiting side of the World of Art building and I stay in meeting rooms, we shouldn't have too many more encounters. Then she'll leave and go back to her corner of America where I'll probably never see her again.

Maybe this is a good thing, to see that she's healthy and not depressed. It's good to know that I didn't completely shit all over her life. I want to ask her more personal questions, just to satisfy the intrusive part of me, but I don't. The less I know about her life right now, the better.