Going for a Ride

Submitted by Denise:

John and I met up at a local mall, but he told me that he had a better idea for something to do for our first date and he volunteered to drive, so I climbed into his car and off we went.

"Where are we going?" I asked him, ready for adventure.

"It's a surprise," he said.

Twenty minutes later, I had discovered that he was a conversational dud.  Every question I asked him received a one-word reply (if that) and everything I did to try and expand the conversation fell flat.  He simply did not seem interested in talking.

After I was sure that we had passed the same house twice, I asked him, "Where are we going?"

"Just for a ride."

"A ride where?"

He turned to me and said, "Does every ride need a destination?  I just thought it would be a good way for us to–"

"Look out!" I screamed.

He turned to the road, or rather, the sidewalk onto which he was about to drive.  He swerved, too far, and nearly took out a car in the oncoming lane.

"Pull over!" I yelled, "Pull over!  Pull over!"

"It's okay!" he shouted, his hands turning white on the steering wheel, "We're fine!  I was just distracted!"

"Pull over now!" I demanded.

He stopped the car short, jumped out, ran to my side, and opened my door so fast that I thought it would fly off of its hinge.

"Get out of my car," he said.

I shook my head.  "You drive me back, first!"

He reached in to pull me out, but I said, "If you touch me, I swear to god that you're going to regret it, if you so much as touch me."

He slammed my door closed, climbed back in on his side, drove me back to the mall, and dropped me off as far as he could from my car, on the other side of the parking lot.  I jumped out and he sped away.