https://youtu.be/SSkdvSM8ICE

(Author's Note: If you would wish to listen to Chapter 26 parts 1 and 2 on audio, please click the videos. Thank you!)

 He steps out of the bathroom wearing my father's clothes. It's weird to have someone else wearing my dad's clothes; nonetheless, he does look handsome, the red velvet shirt is a little bit big, and the sweatpants are loose on him, but it's nice. I like it when he wears his jeans, it's tightly fitted on his perfect thighs.

  "What do you think?" He asks, breaking out of my pervasive thoughts.

  "You look good." You look damn fine. I want to say, but I don't since he will laugh at me and it would be embarrassing saying that out loud. Don't you think?

  "Thank you for letting me use your father's clothes. You sure your father won't mind me using his clothes?"

   As soon as the word father leaves his lips, I frown and feel the pain in my heart once again. Water starts in my eyes and I blink a couple of times to stop the tears from falling down my cheeks. I found myself falling in silence again as the memories come back to me. 

  I clear my throat and pull myself together. "My dad would be fine if you use his clothes." Even if my dad was here, he wouldn't mind him borrowing his clothes. He was the type of man who if you needed a shirt, would take off his own t-shirt and give it to you. He was kind-hearted to others and a loving father to me. I dearly miss him.

  "Good. Do you have a bag, so I can put my dirty clothes in?" He asks with a smile, and just like that my heart feels warm and the pain slightly disappears. How did he just do that?

  "Yeah, sure." I head toward the kitchen and retrieve a shopping bag from the cabinet.

  "Here you go," I mutter when handing him the shopping bag.

   He vanishes into the bathroom, this time he left the bathroom door open and I can see him grabbing his black clothes and placing them into the bag. Okay, stop staring at him, you look like a weirdo watching every move he makes.

  Geez, can I be any more of a dork?

  He emerges from the bathroom and has the bag in his hands.

  "If you're still feeling hungover, would you like me to take you home or anywhere you would like?" I shrug. "I mean if you want me to."

  Well, that was a stupid question to ask him. He's probably already sober from his hangover. Why did I ask him that anyway? Because you want to be with him, my subconscious taunts me.

  "You can drive?" He asks.

  I giggle. "Yes, and just in case you're wondering I also have a license."

  "Are you being sarcastic with me, Sussianna?" He gazes at me and I gaze back at him trying to see what his mood might be, but his expression is unreadable.

  Me on the other hand- I'm grinning wide. "Maybe," I tease.

  "Hmm..." His mouth sets into a fine line. I don't know if he's angry at me or if this is amusing him. I can never tell with Chris and his mood swings. "Why do you ride your bike to class, if you have a license." He asks, completely disarming me. 

  "Hmm... Because I can't afford a car right now," I say plainly.

  "Oh, I see. Well, thanks for wanting to take me home, but I don't let anyone drive my car."

  "Alright." I frown. Why do I look disappointed after he said that? Maybe because you wanted to spend more time with him and you really didn't want him to leave, my subconscious snarls and I'm telling her to "shut up."

  "I'm still a little hungover, it would be fine for this one time if you would drive me home. I wouldn't want to get into an accident."

  My smile returns. See I told you, you wanted to spend time with him, that's why you're glowing right now, she continues taunting me and I'm already to slap her. I mean if she was real. Why am I even arguing with myself?

  "Here," he tosses me his keys to the Camino and I catch it. "You will need them."

  He was not kidding, he's actually going to let me drive his car.

  "Are you sure?" I ask and feel kind of amazed he would let me do this.

  "Yeah, just don't scratch my car, or I'll be furious," he says firmly, but I know with that look by now, he doesn't really want me to do this. 

  "I won't." Part of me wants to laugh at him because it's unbelievable he's letting me drive his car. Men and their precious cars.

  I grab my house keys and my purse. I feel so excited and somewhat nervous to be driving again, I haven't driven a car in three years. Will I still remember how to drive? Well, it can't be that hard, it will come back to me, hopefully.

  We walk over to the car. As I get closer, I notice a bike rack attached to the rear of the car, and my own bike is plastered to it.

  Did he put the bike rack for me?

  "Oh, I totally forgot about your bike." He strides to the rear of the car; unstraps my bike and removes it from the bike rack. He carries it toward me and places it down by my side.

  "When did you do this?" I ask as I point to the bike rack.

  "Yesterday." I wonder was it before or after he got drunk and showed up at my house? "I also fixed your tire for you," he says.

  That was very thoughtful of him. I can't believe he would do this just for me. He can be such a caring man, and then other times he can be negligent. Why is that?

  "You did this for me." I've never grinned so much in my life before. It's nice to be smiling. He makes me smile, most of the time, other times he gets me frustrated, but at this particular moment, he has me grinning wide. 

  He rolls his eyes. "Yes. I fixed your bike, but I didn't put the bike rack for you." He shrugs. "I like to go mountain biking sometimes, I was going to put it up before I even knew you had a bike."

  Of course, he would deny it. It doesn't matter because I know he did this for me. What an unselfish deed he did.

  I continue to grin toward him, and I can't seem to not hide my smile. He shakes his head and rolls those blue eyes at me when he goes over to the rear of the car. He opens the trunk and takes out my chain, along with my lock. There's where my things were, and I still can't believe he found a way to unlock my bike.

  He then walks over to me and places his hands on my bike. He grins at me as he rolls my bike to my house. What's he thinking in that head of his? He latches the chain onto the fence and clamps it with my lock. He comes to me and opens the driver's door so that I can get in. 

 "Come on let's go," he orders. 

  He tells me his address when I climb in, and immediately I start the engine.

  "Wait for me," he says as he slides in quickly.

  "Sorry," I say apologetically.

  With trembly hands, I put them onto the steering wheel, and grip it tightly. I can do this, it's like riding a bike, except without foot petals, it has brake petals. Oh goodness! Hopefully, I won't bend his car, or I'd think he's going to kill me. I shouldn't have offered to drive his car. 

  "Are you going to go or not?" He exclaims. I just want to slap him, he needs to have patience with me. Alright, I know he doesn't have any patience, but he needs to understand I haven't driven in a while. 

  I wanted to drive and here's my chance. I sigh and I slowly ease the car out of the driveway. I manage to get onto the road. Holy cow. I'm actually driving his car, it's all coming back to me, and I'm loving the feeling of driving again. As I drive to the main road, I look in the rear-view mirror and see the road is clear. Hmm... Let's see how fast this baby can go.

  I notice the road is vacant up ahead and I grin. I take it upon myself to put my foot on the gas and it takes off, whamming us both back into our seats. Whoa, this car is fast. Gosh, I miss this.

  "Shit Sussianna, slow down."

  I ease off the gas and quickly glance at him. His hand is firmly gripping the passenger's door handle and I notice his body boils up with anxiety. Now you know how I felt when you drive like a maniac, Chris. However, I don't want to drive like a lunatic, the way he drives. So I slow down a little.

  "You never had anyone drive your car before?" I ask, not taking my eyes off the road.

  "No, you're the only one."

  Oh, if I'm the only one, then I should be careful when driving his car. But I can't resist when I take VFW Parkway toward Centre St, I gently press on the gas, and the car purrs to eighty-five miles per hour. I'm in love with this car, this baby can haul ass. I barely put my foot on the gas and it moves at a fast rate. It's hard to believe I'm moving this fast.  

  "Jeez, Sussianna. Ease up on the gas!" He shouts.

  "Sorry," I shrug. "This sure beats riding my bike."

  He laughs and shakes his head. "Yeah, but you could slow down a bit."

   "Alright," I say while giggling, I slow right down. 

    Instantly, a semi-truck pulls in front of us and immediately I slam on the brakes. Luckily, no one was behind us. 

"Fuck! Why did you stop?" Chris curses at me. 

  My eyes widen and my heart lurches into my mouth. My whole body tightens with panic. The images of a semi-truck crashing into my parents and then to me cross my mind.

  I take in a deep breath, trying to bring my breathing under control. But I began to hyperventilate again. My mind begins to think about my parents and how a stupid semi-truck crashed into them which caused their death, and I'm also to blame because if it wasn't for me, they would be here and still alive. Then my dream comes to mind and the semi-truck hits them as well as me. 

  "I-I'm sorry." I stumble. I start to slowly move my foot back to the gas pedal and take off toward  Interstate 95, trying to get past the semi-truck and far away from it as I possibly can.

  "Why did you stop all of a sudden just now?" In the corner of my eye, I can see him staring at me, and I hate when people stare at me.

  I sigh and keep my eyes focused on the road. 

  "Sussianna, answer me," he orders me.

  "Chris, please don't ask," I beg him.

  "No, tell me Sussianna. Why are you so closed doors with me?" 

  I chuckle. "You're also the same way, you don't tell me about yourself," I call him out. 

  "Alright, here it goes," he takes a deep breath and tries to gather the words to say. 

    He's really going to tell me about himself? 

  "When I was five my mother left me and my sister. My sister was at the time ten, she's five years older than me." I didn't know he had an older sister, but then again I really don't know much about him.

   He continues. "My mother was a drug addict and I don't know if she still is, I haven't spoken to her since I was five years old. My father was never there for me and my sister, he was too busy away on business, so we basically raised each other, but as a matter of fact, the staff was the ones who raised us." I'm not looking at him, but I can tell from the sound of his voice that it's very hard for him to tell me this story about his past. 

  "The staff?" I ask.

  "My father's employees- the maids, the cooks, and the bodyguards. Mostly the bodyguards took care of us."

"Do you still have bodyguards?" I'm intrigued now. 

  He sighs. "No, when I turned eighteen, I told my father I didn't need a bodyguard anymore, but my father and grandfather insisted I needed one for my protection. I refused to have one."

  "Oh, do you speak to your father and grandfather, still?" I ask. I know I'm dodging the bullet by asking him questions, but he's opening up to me, might as well take advantage since I don't know if I'll get another chance again of him to tell me about himself.

  "I don't get along with my father and don't ask why because when I talk about him, I start to get extremely angry, and I don't want to be irritated."

  Alright, I won't bring up his father again unless he's the one to bring it up first.  

  "Now, my grandfather is a different story. We were very close."

  "Were? You are not close anymore?" I question.

  "Yes, "were." He passed away about a year ago."

  "Oh, Chris. I'm so sorry," I say and I feel guilty asking him that question about his grandfather.

  "It's okay," he tells me with no remorse. "Now it's your turn. Tell me why did you all of a sudden stop when that semi-truck pulled into our lane?"

  I breathe deeply. Since he told me a little about himself, might as well get it over with and just tell him. Here it goes... 

  "Okay. I got panicked because..." Fuck! This is so hard to say. I move one hand to my chest and rub at the center of my chest as a dull pain aches abruptly in my heart, an all too familiar pain, that always comes when I talk about my parents. It's guilt, it always turns out to be a guilty feeling that stings inside me like I'm being stabbed.

  I resume and when I speak it's barely a whisper. "That's how my parents died, they were hit by a semi-truck."  I feel like I can't breathe, and I straighten my back as if it would help give my lungs more room to expand. 

  While I struggle with the emotions that bolt up inside me, I start to fall to tears. Chris puts his hand on my thigh and gently rubs me as if to comfort me. It's soothing and it's the only thing that makes it possible for me to go on. 

  Inhaling deeply, I let the words fall out. "When you heard me screaming last night, it was one of my dreams that come almost every single night. I dream about my parents being hit by a semi-truck. And last night..." I fall into silence. "They were hit by a semi-truck and then it hit me."

  I hear him softly curse. "Sussianna, I can't possibly imagine what you are going through, I'm so sorry."

  I start to well up with tears again. Chris's fingers brush over my cheek as the tears run down my face, and I smile at his gesture. As we drive through Interstate 95, the rest of the drive is spent in silence. We are almost at his house and the silence between us feels good for a change.