“Weird.” She sounds disheartened.

“What’s so wrong with being weird?”

“Everything.” She stares out of the window, dejected.

“Weird isn’t so bad. Weird is…unique. Interesting. Rare.”

She interrupts me with a scornful laugh. It’s a load of cheesy bullshit and we both know it.

Normal is acceptance.

Weird is rejection.

“Bizarre. Strange. Odd. Scary. Creepy.” She pauses for a beat. “Lonely,” she adds almost too soft to hear.

I know exactly what she means. I know the terror of not being enough, not being worth loving. If it were any other girl, I’d feed her a line about how being herself is enough. But we both know that’s a lie.

Love is conditional.

Temporary.

The closest thing I’ve ever seen to that cheesy do-anything-for-you, can’t-live-without-you Hollywood cliché was my mom’s relationship with drugs.

That isn’t love.

That’s addiction.

We all play a role to get what we need. We hide the ugliest parts of ourselves, desperate to be wanted. To be loved.

“Trust me, everyone’s weird. Some of us are just better at hiding it.” Keeping my eyes locked on the road ahead of us, I reach across the cab and take her hand in mine, intertwining our fingers. This touch isn’t about sex.

It’s about connection.

Without speaking, she brings my hand up to her lips and kisses it softly. My chest tightens.

Don’t get attached. Don’t let her break you.

“You ready?” My words pierce the silence and sever our connection.

“For what?”

“To take back the lead.” I pull up to the intersection, take my hand from hers and point at the red light in front of us. She launches into her first question without missing a beat.

“What superpower would you want?”

“Invisibility.” I hold up one finger with a forced smile.

“Biggest regret?”

“Thinking people can change.” I hold up a second finger.

“I win,” she announces with a light smile.

“And you’ve still got time. You don’t want to know anything else about me?” I arch an eyebrow in challenge. She bites her bottom lip, concentrating hard before she continues.

“Why are you here? With me.”

“Because we couldn’t stay in the apartment, remember?” My voice is dark and lustful as I remind her how close to the edge she had me. I try to sidestep her question, keep our game fun and light. She doesn’t let me.

“I mean, why did you say yes?” She’s holding her breath, her body is tense and her eyes are searing into me with sheer anguish. So much for keeping it light. “To this crazy idea. To me.” She’s gnawing on her bottom lip and she has a death grip on the seat. She’s terrified of what I might say. It’s brave to ask without being sure she wants to know the answer.