Honey, This Car Isn't Big Enough for the Two of Us

Sun shined through the trees, the perfect breeze coming through rolled down windows, with music blaring through the car speakers. With no destination in mind, it was necessary enjoyment of your day off, breathing in the refreshing air that flowed through your hair. The perfect start to a relaxing afternoon.

Or so you thought.

“Yah! Learn to drive!”

In a blink of an eye, a deafening thud came from the passenger side that stopped you in your tracks—literally, car tires squealed to a halt, as you frantically tried to keep it under control.

Quite an unwarranted start to the afternoon. With your heart racing a million miles a minute, the car came to a halt. The crunch of metal still rang in your ears when you exited, dusted yourself off, and rubbed the back of your neck.

“Hey idiot! Why’d you stop in the middle of the road!?”

Such a boisterous voice could only belong to the terrible driver who just ruined your day and didn’t know the first thing about the right of way.

“You just crashed into me because you weren’t paying attention!”

The young woman stared daggers and folded her arms. “There wasn’t anybody coming when I turned. You just appeared out of nowhere, dumbass!” she scoffed.

“Dumbass? Maybe if you would look where you were going, you wouldn’t have hit me! Did you get your license out of a cereal box?” You could tell this wouldn’t be a courteous discussion, and she only grew more infuriated.

“Just because you think your shitty sports car makes up for your small dick doesn’t give you the right to drive like an old man!”

This time, you held your tongue and wished she did the same.

“What’s the matter, grandpa? Hit a nerve? I hope you have insurance! My car is ruined!”

Dealing with someone so belligerent was not on your list of things to do today. You just wanted to get this situation over with. None of this would happen if she kept her eyes on the damn road, and she should have been offering apologies, not insults. It unleashed your own temper.

“I’m sure you can pay for the repairs, just like you paid for those fake tits.”

She wasn’t expecting that. Hands by her side balled up into fists, and every word that escaped your mouth stoked the fire in her eyes.

“Listen here, you little shit! How dare you!”

The raven-haired woman rushed towards you like a raging bull that had just spotted the color red. Genuinely, you didn’t think she would actually do anything, but a careless temper was a dangerous thing.

All it took was a simple sidestep to avoid it. Her own momentum betrayed her, and she fell face first into your car. It seemed those flotation devices at the front of her chest did little to soften the blow.

Still, as much of an annoyance as she was, it was hard not to feel bad for her. “Are you okay?”

The woman was stunned, eyebrows raised, placing a hand over her mouth as she checked her face in the reflection and looked for signs of bleeding. Thankfully, she was relatively unscathed. But the damage to her bruised ego, however, couldn’t be repaired easily.

“N-no! You hit me, I’m suing!”

Now she was being ridiculous. “Suing? I didn’t do a damn thing. You tried to strike me, so I moved out of the way. What happened was entirely your fault. Just like when you just plowed my car.”

Unsurprisingly, she didn’t agree, and you unlocked another level of anger. “I only tried to hit you because you insulted my breasts! I’ll have you know they’re all natural!”

That was a pretty poor excuse to assault someone, and you couldn’t help but chuckle at such an absurd statement. She looked like she would scream at any moment. “Fine, I won’t sue you. Just give me five-hundred dollars and we can be done with this mess.”

No chance in hell. “Why would I give someone who hit my car money? I think you must have hit your head too hard, so I’ll call an ambulance.”

“Don’t you dare! I’ll call the police so they can arrest you!”

This stalemate was getting nowhere, it was just getting—staler. You had better things to do than argue with a hysterical stranger, and it was nothing but a he said, she said situation, with no witnesses, evidence, or real purpose. It was giving you a headache, and the woman in white wouldn’t back down. “Listen, let’s both calm down. How about a name?” you offered, trying small talk as a peace offering.

“Why should I tell you that? You’re probably a creep!”

“I’m not a creep. If you’ll stop throwing a fit, we can discuss this like adults—”

“Throwing a fit?” She repeated, fists still by her side, until she slammed her fist into the door of your car. “I’ll show you throwing a fit!”

“Don’t fucking touch my car!”

“Fuck your stupid car! It’s ugly, just like you!” She wound up and punched the door one more time, putting all her rage into her swing—but before she could repeat it, you seized her wrists away from her body.

“What are you doing? Take your hands off me! I knew you were a creep!”

“I’m not a creep! I just don’t want you to keep denting my car. So I’m politely asking you to stop.”

You hated this woman’s attitude. She was snobby, rude, and thought the entire world revolved around her, but damn, she was irritatingly attractive. The distance was close enough that you could smell her sweet perfume, and those breasts —fake or not, you couldn’t stop staring.

And she could tell from a mile away. “Now you’re staring at my tits? Pervert!” she spat, and slapped your cheek. Her palm barely grazed your cheek, but you acted out the pain and pretended to rub the sting.

“It’s hard not to stare when those plastic funbags are practically bursting out of your shirt.”

“So you’re admitting you’re staring! Fucking creep!” Again, she slapped you harder on the other cheek. So easily she fell into your trap.

If she wanted to play dirty, then there was no reason you couldn’t retaliate. “I believe that’s assault. If you’ll excuse me, I need to call the police.”

“W-wait, no! You can’t do that!” The panic on her face was clearer than her pristine skin.

“Why not? You hit me twice. For no good reason, I may add.” You couldn’t hide the smirk that appeared across your face as you grabbed your phone out of your pocket and played her like a fiddle when you pretended to dial it.

“Wait, please!” Such a petulant woman was as whiny as she was hot. It was a shame the pretty face she had was wasted on her.

“Why shouldn’t I report you? Give me one good reason.”

“P-please, I—” Suddenly, tears started rolling down her eyes. Crocodile tears, no doubt, but nonetheless, they had an impact.

She wiped her eyes and sniffled with much exaggeration. “Give me your phone.”

“What? Absolutely not. You’ll break it. Or worse.”

“I w-won’t, I promise. Please,” she pleaded. You couldn’t trust her, but it was hard to ignore a crying woman. Even if she was the literal devil.

Regret was the first thing on your mind when you handed her your unlocked phone. She tilted your phone horizontally, aimed it at her voluptuous chest, and took a handful of pictures before she returned it.

Bribery was the last thing you expected. “What am I supposed to do with these?” you asked, scrolling through multiple copies of the same picture. “You wouldn’t even give me your name because I’m a creep and now you take these for me?”