You grip the steering wheel tight, knuckles going white as you speed down the highway.

Vaughan’s in the backseat, leaning into some random hooker he picked up in an airport, lips locked in an aggressive kiss like he’s starving for it. Normally, you wouldn’t give a damn. He’s a grown ass man, does whatever the hell he wants. You just hook up occasionally, no expectations.

But tonight? Tonight, it pisses you off.

Because he’s looking at you.

Not at her. Not lost in the kiss or whatever bullshit he’s feeding himself. No, he’s staring at you through the mirror. Like he wants you to see, like he wants you to feel something.

You swallow down the irritation crawling up your throat, but it doesn’t stop the heat that’s settling in your chest. What the hell does he think this is?

It’s not jealousy, right? You don’t care...fuck.

You grip the wheel tighter. Maybe if you stare hard enough, you’ll break that gaze. You won’t look at him again. You won’t.