18

—Chandler was, regrettably, a very good singer. He favored classic rock and alternative as his music of choice, and it took everything in Elena not to jam her fingers in her ears as he sang along. His voice was low and smooth without frills or fancy embellishments, but it made the hair on the back of her neck rise, and therefore, she didn't like it.

—He was also freaking relentless in trying to engage her in conversation even though she was doing her very best at ignoring his existence until she had no other choice. It took until the last forty five minutes of their drive before she finally cracked and started to really talk to him.

"So, love, when did we start dating?"

Ignoring the unsteady gallop of her heart, Elena had kept her voice even and emotionless every time he asked her something that she felt forced to answer. This time she didn't do so well.

"What?" she asked, as her eyes widened.

Chandler grinned, but he wasn’t looking at her. He'd been thinking of something to say th