Chapter Forty #2
I catch the door that she nudges open with her hip, pausing to take in the room with a slow, unimpressed sweep of my gaze.
It’s as bad as I expected, or possibly worse.
Dim lighting from an overhead exposed bulb, questionable stains on the threadbare carpet, and a damp smell that can only be described as regret.
Not that Meg seems to notice. Kicking off her shoes, she throws her bag onto the double bed in the center, effectively claiming a side.
“And before you start bitching, this is the only room they have left. It’s sleep next to me or sleep in your car. You choose.”
I wasn’t going to argue. With the state of the bathroom visible through the adjacent door, I’d prefer to be close enough to protect her from the rats that are inevitably going to surge as soon as we fall asleep.
Returning to the small, fold-out table which she dropped the paper bag on, Meg lowers into one of two metal chairs with her legs crossed. I watch, unable to mask my open disdain as she starts to unpack the contents, as if grease isn’t beginning to seep through the bag.
“What the fuck is that?” I ask, my lip curling of its own accord. Meg rolls her eyes.
“Dinner.” The salty scent of fast food cuts through the air, somewhat stirring up the appetite within me, even if I wasn’t sure the place that served it should be shut down by health inspectors.
Meg doesn’t look at me, but clearly feels my presence still hovering half inside the door.
I’m still deciding if I’m going to commit to this whole undercover thing.
“There’s a protein bar in my bag if you would prefer that, but I can’t claim to know how long it’s been in there. ”
Unwrapping the resemblance of a burger that is dripping with grease, she takes a bite and my hunger finally wins out.
I step inside, allowing the door to slam closed and conceal me inside this living nightmare.
My parents would have a heart attack if they knew I was here.
This arises a small sense of joy within.
If we weren’t laying low, I’d be tempted to post a selfie against the rusted shower to see if I could achieve just that.
An orphaned Everest sure would be a happier one.
Meg takes another bite, her shoulders visibly relaxing for the first time since we left campus.
There’s something absurd about how easily she settles into whatever life throws her way, while I’m still mentally cataloguing every flaw in the room.
No amount of preplanning could have prepared me for this.
Grease smudges her fingers, a small line of sauce catching at the corner of her mouth.
I exhale, scrubbing a hand over my face before finally settling into the chair opposite. “If I get food poisoning, I’m blaming you.”
“You’d have to actually eat it first,” she shoots back instantly, glancing up at me with a grin that’s far too amused for someone sitting in what might be the worst motel in the state. She nudges the bag toward me with her elbow. “Live a little, Calloway.”
I hesitate, then reach inside and grab one of the wrapped items, peeling it open with clear reluctance.
It’s a matching burger to Meg’s, although the color of the patty looks questionable.
The cheese slice has molted, appearing limp and somewhat sweaty.
I shudder as I draw it closer to my mouth, still unsure if my finer palette would be able to digest such a thing.
Meg is watching me intently, barely containing her anticipation as if this is some kind of twisted social experiment. Conceding defeat, I take a bite.
“See?” she smirks as I attempt chewing. “Not so bad.”
“It’s fucking awful,” I mutter, folding my fist in front of my mouth as I force myself to swallow. Chucking the burger down onto the wrapper, I push it towards Meg, feeling physically green. “Nope. No way. I’ll take the protein bar.”
Meg bursts out laughing, her cackle holding an edge of malice. I blush slightly, both pleasantly surprised and unnerved at being the cause of her hilarity. Rewrapping both of our burgers, she tosses them into the paper bag and retrieves her duffle.
“That just made my entire life,” she continues to chuckle, unzipping her bag to retrieve a cardboard box. “I thought I was going to heave before I got you to try it. Alas, you’re more influenced by peer pressure than I thought. Here, dig in.”
Pushing the cardboard box my way, I flick it open cautiously. A stir fry awaits, packed with protein and fresh vegetables. Even after the burger monstrosity, my mouth waters.
“You shouldn’t be wasting the cash I brought on pranks,” I chastise, although I’m clearly distracted by the smell wafting around my face. I’m certain nothing has ever smelled this good.
“I will happily starve for the rest of the trip. That was beyond worth it.” Meg laughs.
I’m hung up on her referring to ‘the trip’, as if we’re just two friends on a scenic adventure.
I suppose it’s nice to forget what’s on the horizon and focus on the here and now, despite how tragic it has been so far.
Meg retrieves her own box of food before handing me a plastic fork, and I dive in, forgetting all sense of etiquette. My stomach churns at the sudden onslaught but I don’t let up, the spice burning my throat as I devour every last bite.
Across from me, Meg pulls her hair into a loose knot.
An oversized hoodie swallows her frame, the hem resting against the thighs of her tight leggings.
She watches me with a raised brow over her large, blue eyes, eating with far more decorum than I can manage right now.
I let her take the win, becoming surprisingly comfortable with being the object of her humor.
Huh, maybe there is more to enjoy about her than her stubbornness.
That thought shifts something fundamental in my mind, rocking the core of my convictions in a way I’m not entirely prepared for.
I still, confusion dancing between my eyes as I lower the plastic fork into the empty container.
The shift in my demeanor doesn’t go unnoticed, but Meg doesn’t challenge me either, only glancing at me from beneath her lashes before focusing back on her food.
There’s a faint flush in her cheeks that I can only put down to our close proximity.
This is different from being on the pitch or at each other’s throats.
In fact, it’s more casual than we’ve ever been. New territory indeed.
I clean up, taking out the garbage so we don’t have to sit in the aroma of grease and spices.
At least, that’s the excuse I make. Honestly, I just need a moment to clear my head, pacing outside of the door to steady my breathing and get my mindset back on track.
We’re here to rediscover Meg’s tenacity.
That’s what I’m supposed to be focusing on.
By the time I decide I can’t lurk outside anymore without someone calling the cops for suspicious behavior, I find Meg tucked beneath the covers and flicking through static channels on a huge boxy television on the dresser.
The room is dim now, the flickering light casting uneven shadows across her face, softening her expression.
Curled up on her side, strands of her hair have fallen loose to frame her jaw.
I don’t disturb her, nor do I comment on her side glance when I emerge from the bathroom in just my boxers, damp from a hasty shower.
Roughly drying my hair, I toss the provided hand towel aside and slip into bed, hyper-aware of her presence beside me.
There’s a pause of discomfort before Meg reaches back for two of her limp pillows and stuffs them in-between us as a clear boundary line.
“Just in case you get handsy later,” she grunts, settling on some gameshow from the eighties, her voice roughened by exhaustion. I scoff, folding my arms across my chest and staring up at the cracked ceiling.
“Trust me, if I wanted to get handsy, a pillow wall wouldn’t stop me.”
“My lack of consent should,” Meg throws back and I bark a sharp laugh.
“Out of the two of us, I assure you I have the most restraint. But if you do feel like breaching the wall at any point, just know that there won’t be any complaints from this side.”
The glare Meg gives me is glacial, and weirdly, it warms my chest. I soak in her resentment as if it were the sun’s rays, using it to settle the unease within. As long as Meg is annoyed at me, as long as I have her attention, everything is right in the world.