It was market day, as usual. We were supposed to sell the fruits today. But there was a problem. Evans wasn't feeling well, and Jack was nowhere to be seen. Good—now he knows his place. Mr. Marlow was around, his truck already filled and ready to go, and so was ours.
Like I said, there was a problem. The real problem was that Liam and I had to go together. Just the two of us.
I stared at the truck, dreading the thought of hours trapped in that small space with him. No distractions. No escape. Just the tension crackling between us like a live wire, ready to snap at the slightest touch.
Liam didn't look thrilled either. His expression was unreadable, but his movements were stiff, controlled—like he was holding something back.
Nice.
Mr. Marlow glanced between us, clearly sensing the tension. "Market won't wait, you know," he said, adjusting his hat. Without a word, Liam climbed into the driver's seat. I took my time getting in, making a show of adjusting my seatbelt even though I didn't need to. The silence was thick, stretching between us like a challenge neither of us wanted to acknowledge.
He started the truck, the engine growling to life. The second we pulled onto the road, I turned to the window, pretending he wasn't there. He did the same.
It was going to be a long ride.
The road stretched ahead, dust kicking up in our wake. The hum of the engine was the only sound between us, thickening the silence, making it unbearable. Every second felt like a slow drag of a blade against my skin, an irritation that I couldn't shake.
I refused to speak first.
Liam, apparently, had the same idea.
We drove in that tense, suffocating quiet for a while, the air between us heavy with unsaid words, until finally, he broke it—not with words, but with the sharp turn of the wheel.
The sudden motion sent my body shifting toward him before I caught myself, gripping the seat. I turned my glare on him, my voice cutting through the air like steel.
"Do you even know how to drive, or are you just trying to kill us both?"
He didn't look at me. Didn't flinch. His grip on the wheel was firm, his jaw tight. "If I wanted to kill you, sweetheart, you wouldn't see it coming."
A slow, humorless smile spread across my lips. "Oh? And here I thought you didn't have the guts to follow through on anything."
His fingers flexed against the wheel, his knuckles going white. "Keep pushing me, and you'll find out exactly what I have the guts to do."
I laughed, low and taunting. "Oh, I'm terrified. Truly. Remind me, was it before or after you ran away the other night?"
The muscle in his jaw ticked. "You think everything is a game, don't you?"
I leaned back, crossing my arms. "And you think ignoring something makes it go away."
His hands tightened on the wheel. "Trust me, I'm not ignoring you."
A thrill sparked in my chest at the edge in his voice, dark and dangerous. But I masked it with another smirk. "Really? Because I hardly even noticed you were here."
His lips curled, his tone turning mockingly sweet. "Then maybe you should shut up and enjoy the ride."
I scoffed, turning back to the window. "Gladly."
The truck rumbled down the road, the tension between us thicker than ever. Neither of us spoke again, but the silence wasn't empty. It was charged, ready to snap at the slightest provocation. And I knew—sooner or later, one of us was going to break.
The market was alive with movement, a chaotic blend of colors, scents, and voices all vying for attention. The air was thick with the aroma of freshly baked bread, ripe fruit, and sizzling meat from nearby stalls. Merchants called out their prices, each trying to outdo the other, their voices merging into a constant hum of activity.
Liam pulled the truck to a stop, and before he could say anything, I pushed the door open and stepped out. The heat from the sun hit my skin instantly, but I welcomed it—anything was better than being stuck in that truck with him.
Mr. Marlow arrived moments later, his own truck rumbling to a stop beside ours. Without wasting time, we got to work, hauling crates of fruit from the back of the truck, stacking them neatly for display.
Liam and I worked in silence, each of us deliberately ignoring the other, only communicating through sharp movements and unnecessary force. When I handed him a crate, he took it roughly, his fingers brushing against mine for the briefest second before he jerked his hand away like I'd burned him.
"Careful," I said, voice dripping with mock concern. "Wouldn't want you to hurt yourself."
Liam shot me a sideways glance, unimpressed. "Don't flatter yourself."
I smirked, grabbing another crate. "Oh, I don't need to. Your temper does all the work for me."
His eyes darkened, but he didn't take the bait. Instead, he slammed the crate down with unnecessary force, making the wood creak under the weight.
Mr. Marlow, oblivious to the silent war raging between us, clapped his hands together. "Alright, I'll handle the customers. You two keep unloading."
Liam exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair before stepping away to grab another crate. I watched him for a second, noting the tension in his shoulders, the barely restrained frustration in his every move.
Good. Let him be angry.
I turned back to my work, but just as I reached for another crate, a voice called out behind me.
"Well, well. Look who decided to show up."
I stiffened before slowly turning around.
Jason.
Of course.
He leaned lazily against a wooden stall, a smirk on his face, arms crossed like he owned the place. His eyes raked over me, lingering just long enough to make my skin crawl.
"I was hoping to run into you again," he said smoothly, pushing off the stall and sauntering closer. "What do you say, sweetheart? Ready to take me up on my offer?"
Before I could respond, Liam's voice cut through the air, low and lethal.
"She's busy."
Jason glanced at him, unimpressed. "Didn't realize she had a guard dog."
Liam stepped forward, his entire demeanor shifting into something dangerous, something warning.
"I said," he repeated, voice calm but laced with a quiet threat, "she's busy."
Jason chuckled, but there was an edge to it now. "Relax, man. Just making conversation."
Liam didn't move, didn't blink. "Then find someone else to talk to."
For a long moment, Jason held his gaze, tension crackling between them. Then, with a scoff, he held up his hands in mock surrender. "Fine, fine. No need to get your panties in a twist."
He turned back to me, his smirk returning. "See you around, sweetheart."
I rolled my eyes, watching as he walked off, the tension between me and Liam now unbearable.
I turned to him, crossing my arms. "What was that?"
Liam scoffed. "You're welcome."
I let out a dry laugh. "For what? Scaring off an idiot I could've handled myself?"
He stepped closer, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that sent a jolt through my spine.
"You shouldn't have to handle guys like him," he said, voice quieter now but no less sharp.
I narrowed my eyes. "And what, that's your job now?"
Liam didn't answer. He just held my gaze for another long second before shaking his head and turning away, leaving me standing there, heart pounding in my chest.