6. The Roadway #2
Aubrey couldn’t feel further away, sitting with her arms over her chest, turned away from me as she pouts like a child. We sit in silence for several minutes until I finally say, “Care to explain why you are walking on the side of the road?”
She turns, glaring daggers at me.
If looks could kill, then Aubrey Vaughn would have just struck me dead.
I shrug, holding my hands up. “All right, whatever, don’t explain.”
She sighs after several long minutes, murmuring, “Sorry.”
“Wait, I’m sorry...I didn’t hear you.” I mock, craning my neck at her. I heard her perfectly fine, but it’s not often a Vaughn apologizes, so I figure I’d better savor the moment.
“I said I was sorry. For kicking you in your—” She eyes my still aching groin.
“And?” I say, turning on my blinker and waiting to turn left.
“And—thanks. For the ride.” She admits slowly, her eyes looking anywhere but at me.
“Hey Siri,” I call, the voice booming over my speakers within a second, “mark this day in my calendar. The day that Aubrey Vaughn said ‘sorry and thank you’ within seconds of each other. A national fucking holiday.”
“Dick.” She mutters under her breath, but I see her crack a smile. My heart aches a little. Because for a second, it feels familiar, like nothing has changed.
“I called Reese, but she must be busy,” she explains, looking at her phone. “I would have tried Rory or June, but my phone died.”
“No worries, I’ll take you home,” I note. I reach for the heated seat button at the exact second she does. Our fingers touch, and I draw my hand back instantly. I try to ignore the electric shocks thrumming across my skin from where we make contact.
You’d think a woman had never touched me before by how my body reacts to hers. But it’s always been that way with us.
Electric.
“Sorry, I didn’t know if you remembered where the button was,” I point out, keeping my focus on the road, refusing to look in her direction. Thank God it’s dark, or she would see my cheeks burning scarlet.
A few extremely awkward minutes pass. I drive slowly, as the road conditions are less than ideal with the snow beginning to pick up. How we went from joking like old times to cold silence is stark, chilling.
Confusing.
When I turn down the road leading to her condo, a cop car blocks the entrance. He motions for me to roll down my window.
“Evening,” the officer says. “Car slid into a pole…we are waiting on the electric company to respond. You’ll have to go the back way. Do you know how to get there?”
I nod, turning around and taking the long route to her condo.
“Probably fucking Schmitt driving like an asshole,” I say, referring to the mid-twenty-year-old neighbor that lives down the street from Aubrey. He was always speeding up and down their road.
Aubrey laughs. Her true one. Not at all like the forced, fake one she gives people when she’s trying to be polite and laugh at their jokes. I steal at glance at her when we come to a red light.
God, I forgot how much I missed the sound of her laugh. When she looks over at me, I quickly look away.
You got busted staring, dude.
Play it cool. Play it cool. Play it cool.
“What?” she asks.
I should know her better than that to think she’d let me get away with it.
“Nothing,” I mumble, looking her over. My brows raise as I take in her outfit. What the hell is she wearing? She’s never in anything but oversized sweatpants and a loose t-shirt.
I swallow thickly, trying not to think why exactly she’s dressed differently.
She’s looking at me now. Her eyes are dark, unlike any memory I hold of them. Black makeup lines them, deepening them, twisting the shade from a honey brown to a dark mahogany. Seeing her this way makes me wonder what else has changed since I last saw her.
We stay like that for several moments, staring at one another until the car behind me blows its horn, and my attention snaps back to the road. The light’s likely been green for some time, so I hurriedly hit the gas.
“I—uh,” she starts, but snaps her mouth closed. I hear her take in a deep breath, her leg bouncing up and down.
She’s nervous.
At least I’m not the only one.
“Yeah?” I question.
“I was—uh, wonderingifyouweregoingtoeatthat?” she asks eventually, her cheeks turning pink as I look from her to the box spread across my dash.
I shake my head, holding back laughter. “No. Help yourself,” but before my words are out, she’s already reaching for it. She instantly takes a big bite of my food, shoving French fries into her mouth like she’s fucking starved.
“Didn’t Noah feed you?” I question. The second the words leave my mouth, I want to take them back.
She stops chewing. Mouth full of food, she answers, “I was too nervous to eat.”
I blink, glancing over at her. I wish she hadn’t replied. In fact, I wish we were back to sitting in silence. The quiet is better than hearing that.
I nod, raising my eyebrows. “I didn’t know you were dating him,” I blurt, eyes glued to the road, like she’s Medusa and if I take another look at her, I’ll be turned to fucking stone.
“We aren’t dating. Noah Pierce doesn’t date. You know that.”
“Ugh,” I say, like I’m disgusted. “Forget I asked.”
She drops the burger back in the box. “Not that it’s any of your business—” she begins, and I hold up my hand. I can’t stand to listen to another second of this, but then she finishes, “This is the first time I’ve been out with him.”
My heartbeat steadies.
Why am I breathing easier suddenly?
Oh, I don’t know—probably because you’re relieved Noah isn’t fucking your ex-girlfriend into next week.
She’s right, though, it’s not any of my business. It’s her body. Her decisions on who she sleeps with. I’ll learn to live with it.
“Oh,” I voice plainly, reaching to turn down the heat. But I hesitate. Looking over her way, I find her staring at me. “What?” I press, my turn to ask her.
“Nothing,” she uses my own reply from earlier against me. It takes every ounce of restraint not to smile outright at her.
“Are you warm?” I ask finally, trying to ignore the sweat beading on my forehead. I know it’s not only from the sickening heat of my Jeep but from being alone with her for the first time since we broke up.
Jasmine is going to be so proud when I tell her I’ve managed to hold a conversation without spiraling out of control. I guess the night is still young, though…Maybe I should hold off celebrating just yet.
“Yeah, I’m good,” she offers as we both reach for the heat. But this time our hands don’t touch; she stops herself before we connect. I turn the fan on low, clearing my throat as I continue down the increasingly snow-covered roads.
“I didn’t know it was supposed to snow this much,” she notes. And I know it’s her attempt to break up the awkwardness.
But why is it always the weather…whenever two people have five thousand more pressing things to discuss, why do we always panic and talk about the fucking weather?
I chuckle. Humor long removed from my tone.
It’s slow at first. Like the first raindrops warning of a storm blowing in. Aubrey’s head jerks in my direction, sneaking another bite of my fries.
“The weather?” I ask. “That’s the best you can come up with?
” And suddenly my temper is flaring. I was way too quick to think I could actually do this without losing control.
Jasmine isn’t going to be proud of my progress; she’s gonna be asking why I drove my Jeep into Lake Superior instead of just answering Aubrey’s question like a fucking sane person.
“I’m sorry!” she fires off, her voice rising, “How about this!” The vein in her forehead is mocking me again. “Hey, how have you been? Good? Oh, great! Yeah, and by the way, so sorry I broke your heart—hope you’re doing well. Tell Karen I said hi!” She word vomits, brows furrowing together.
“Leave my mom out of this!” I counter.
But she continues, “Oh, and thanks for picking me up on the side of the road after a terrible fucking night when the guy I tried to hook up with reminded me that I’m your ex while he rubbed his finger over my—”
“Ehh!” I sound, throwing my hands up from the steering wheel.
“Oh, like you didn’t know what I was planning on doing when you saw me with him!”
“Oh, I knew, but I didn’t want to fucking think about it!” I yell back, turning down the road that leads to the second gated entrance of her neighborhood.
“Sorry, I’m trying to move on!” She slams the box of takeout closed and throws it on the floorboard.
I situate my elbow on the windowsill, my head resting on my hand. I turn down her road, my body knowing the way on instinct. Pulling into her driveway, Aubrey immediately scrambles out, slamming the door closed behind her. I toss my hands out as she flips me off before entering the front door.
My chest rises and falls as I try to focus on my breathing.
I sit there for a few seconds before my anger bubbles over and I repeatedly slam my palm against the steering wheel.
What. Just. Happened? How did we even get to this point?
I know I should leave—that there is nothing left here.
Clearly.
But I can’t. Not yet.
My eyes remained glued on the upstairs window, knowing that’s her room. I watch until I see the glow of her bedroom light beam through the curtains, until I know she’s safe inside, before I take a deep breath and leave her behind.