"Are you mad at me?" I meekly ask him. Thankfully, he lets out a sigh and shakes his head.
"No, I'm not mad at you. I'm just pissed off. He knows that he's not supposed to talk to you and yet he does," he lets out another sigh, readjusting his grip on the steering wheel. We're on the highway now, the traffic is much clearer than it was on the way to his mum's house, we should make good time on the way back.
"What could he have done that you don't want him to even talk to me?" I say quietly. It's such a weird situation to me; that he would have told him not to talk to me, what does he not want me finding out? Has he got this Dante guy on a contract as well, promising that he won't talk to me? Ugh, contracts.
"Amelia, it doesn't concern you so just fucking drop it, alright?" His voice is raised, he's not yelling but he's being firm and I feel like I'm being yelled at. I feel like I'm being punished for nothing; for my curiosity getting the better of me, for wanting to get to know his family a little better. I can't let it go, I can't drop it.
I can live without knowing what happened between the two of them, for a while at least. But what I can't let go of is the way he's taking his frustrations out on me. The silence that follows is hollow and awkward, not even the faint guitar playing through the radio can ease the tension between the two of us.
"I like your mum, she's really lovely." I break the silence in a soft voice, hoping if I focus on the happier parts of the day that he will pull himself out of this stroppy mood. "And your sister is great." All he does is nod.
"That's exciting for her, that she's having another baby," I say, inviting him to join in the conversation.
"Sure," he mumbles, keeping his eyes focused forward. Not in the mood to talk I guess. I resign myself, relaxing back into the seat after readjusting the volume on the radio, drowning out the silence with some random radio show. I barely listen to it though, I can't believe I've done this. We've had this incredible weekend, and I somehow managed to mess it up in such a spectacular way without even realizing it. He may not be mad at me, but I certainly am. And him, I'm mad at him too.