French Vanilla

"Where are we going?" I huffed in the car next to Tom. After the photo shoot, Oli insisted on leaving him at work and going out to lunch, or at least that was the story Tom told me.

"We're goin' on a date thing."

"A date thing?" I raised my eyebrow at him as we stopped at a red light.

"Yea, a date thing."

"Aren't you supposed to ask me out on a date first and then I'm supposed to say yes? You just kidnapped me to go on a date thing."

He chuckled, "well yea, I guess I did. I'm a mighteh fine kidnapper, don't yeh fink?"

I shook my head and crossed my arms. "Nope."

He frowned, "yeh don't like meh?"

The way he said it made me think that he wasn't joking around about being a kidnapper anymore. "I didn't say that."

"Well, do you?" He pressed.

My brows furrowed. He was acting strange all morning. He was perfectly happy when we were at the house and in the car, and then as soon as we arrived at Drop Dead, he seemed all disgruntled and snappy. Then in the photo shoot, I felt something, something that made my insides flutter and numb and race all at the same time. There was no way that was just me. And now, here in the car, here he is again being all snappy and serious.

The light turned green and he pressed lightly on the gas. "Tom, I- LOOK OUT!"