Chapter 7 #2
He flops into the seat next to me, his legs splayed wide so our knees touch. There’s that zing again at the lightest contact, and I frown, hating that my body still responds to him even when I’m furious at him.
“You’re okay with me sitting with you?” His fingers drum impatiently on his thighs.
“Uh, sure? I mean, better you than a stranger, right?” An awkward laugh bubbles out of me, and I spin away to stare at the window reflecting my horrified expression. Stop making this weird.
“Yeah. Better than a stranger . . .” He clears his throat and returns to surveilling the other passengers.
After everyone has boarded and the luggage is stowed under the bus, the driver races aboard, sweat pooling at his temples.
“Good evening. My name is Freddie, and I’ll be your driver today.
Once again, we are on the way to Dallas, with an estimated arrival time of 5:10 p.m. tomorrow.
There will be eight stops along the way.
Before you disembark, please check your clocks.
When I say five minutes, that’s what I mean.
Once my door shuts, the bus leaves—no discussion.
There is one bathroom in the back of the bus but should only be used in an emergency situation—trust me, I wouldn’t use it personally. ”
He continues on with the rules, but most of the people around us have lost interest, returning to their devices. A distinct purr of snoring from the back sounds like someone has already passed out.
Soon the bus rumbles to life, the interior light clicks off, and we are on the move, exiting out of the underground tunnel and entering into the city.
Lights from the buildings highlight the suspicious oily smudges on my window and I lean away, my nose crinkling.
For a fifty-dollar ticket, I guess I shouldn’t complain.
Passengers start to settle, the faint murmuring of chatter and the light from their electronic devices filling the darkness with a soft glow. The space between seats is tight, and Tristen’s shoulder brushes into mine with each pothole in the road.
Only nine more hours to go . . .
There’s no time like the present to listen to the newest Evie Chandler book Maya has been begging me to read. Thank goodness it’s on audiobook so I can close my eyes and let the story unfold like a movie. Unlike now, where I hyper-focus every time Tristen shifts in his seat or scratches his beard.
A good fifteen minutes pass while I troubleshoot why Julia’s old earbuds won’t sync to my phone.
“You’re doing it wrong,” Tristen says, leaning closer than he should.
I clench my teeth. We’ve barely made it minutes into the bus ride, and I already feel like decking him. This does not bode well for the rest of the trip.
“I’m following the instructions on the website.”
“Hmm, but this is an older model.”
“You work for Samsung now?”
He crosses his arms. “No, but I know how this pair works. I had this one before I lost my left earbud on a morning run.”
We hold each other’s stare.
“Fine. Fix it for me.”
“No.”
“No? So you just wanted to tell me all this to mess with me or something?”
“No, I’m not helping because you didn’t ask nicely.”
I suck in a breath and cover my mouth, knowing if I don’t that I’ll say something I might regret.
No. I will regret. And that feeling starts a domino effect, my neck heats up, and an insatiable thirst for the one thing I despise consumes me.
Then that annoying voice pops into my head to whisper how one drink could fix everything.
“Seriously, Reese?” I hear him like he’s in a long tunnel. “You’re so freaking stubborn.”
That stubbornness is what helped me earn my sobriety chip. I’m not letting my body call the shots anymore. I just have to fight temptation.
Blindly, I stare out the window, keeping my breathing steady and repeating the serenity prayer on a loop in my head. My patience is being sorely tested today. It’ll be a miracle if I don’t break the truce in the next hour.
“Reese?” he calls, grabbing my trembling hand and squeezing. “It’s okay. Hold on to me.”
And I do.
“Distract me,” I beg.
My mouth is so dry that my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth. I chug a few gulps of coffee, but it’s tasteless and unfulfilling.
“Um . . . oh, remember when we used to toilet paper the Monroe’s house?” His thumb rubs over my knuckles. “You always had the best aim.”
I smile slightly. “I remember.”
It probably shouldn’t be a fond memory, but it is.
The mean ol’ witch is one of three founding families of Rocosa, and she thought that made her the queen of the mountain.
Her uppity attitude has only gotten worse with age.
Now she’s the president of the Historical Society and delights in preventing any improvements she doesn’t agree with.
I guess every town has its problem child, but in Rocosa, it’s an old lady.
“Remember how mad she’d get? Storming outside in her flannel bathrobe and shaking her fist at the sky?”
“Then she’d holler for ten minutes straight, demanding justice and that the police chief better come clean up her yard.” I turn to grin at him. “But no, she had to clean it herself. That was the best part of it all. It was the most I ever saw her lift a finger.”
He matches my smile. “Not sure how you convinced me to participate each year.”
“It was tradition. How could we not?” Since my freshman year of high school, we pranked Mrs. Monroe for April Fools’ Day. Des thought it was childish, but Tristen always joined in. Even the townsfolk sent their support, leaving toilet paper at our trailer.
“It was nice to blow off some steam. Why did we stop?”
“Granny had a heart attack,” I say, the phrase still odd even years later.
When Des went off to college, she was diagnosed with coronary artery disease after her first heart attack at bingo.
She was okay for a bit, weak, and then the months of heart tests began.
Until one day, she went to sleep and never woke up.
With the many ways a person can pass, I’m thankful it was peacefully in her sleep.
“Oh, Reese.” He grimaces, slapping a hand to his forehead. “I’m not sure if I’m helping you much here.”
“You are,” I say, my voice wobbling with emotion.
“Good.”
His thumb rubs across the skin of my hand, sending delicious goosebumps up my arm. I quickly pull away before he notices.
An awkward silence settles between us for a minute or two before he speaks again.
“I know you’re upset, but I thought since I had the time off and my bag was already packed, it would be helpful if I tagged along. You said you needed an extra pair of hands with the broken dinette.” He lifts his hands, wiggling his fingers. “I have a pair right here.”
“I know what I said. The point is that you didn’t ask me first. For once, I’d like to be included in a decision like I’m an adult.”
He glances at his fidgeting hands, unable to hold my gaze. “I worry about you.” The confession is soft, but the next one is even softer. “Maybe more than I should.”
“I know. And while I appreciate you always looking out for me, I don’t like that I’m not in control of my life. You have to trust me at some point.”
“But if it’s in my power to help, why shouldn’t I?” His eyes meet mine.
“Because sometimes it’s my mountain to climb.” Pinching the bridge of my nose, I sigh. “Look, we are stuck on this trip together no matter how much I complain. We’ll have to compromise or we’ll argue until we are blue in the face. From now on, we are a team.”
“Got it.”
“No more bossing me around or making decisions without telling one another, okay?”
“Okay. Ready for me to fix your earbuds?”
I hold them out for him. “Yes, please.”
He holds a button down, and a green light flashes on the device and pairs to my phone. “Fixed. What about us? Are we good too?”
“As much as we can be, I guess.” I shrug. “Now, I’m going to get lost in this audiobook, so don’t interrupt me until we’re in Amarillo.”
“What if there’s a fire?”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes.
“Well then, yes, tell me that. But anything else can wait. I want to shut off my brain and lose myself in the story.”
Tristen takes the hint, opens his email, and starts typing a new message, immediately back to work. The tension eases from his shoulders as he settles comfortably in his seat.
Pressing play, I do the same.
But it doesn’t last long. As soon as the male narrator starts to speak, my eyes fly open.
It’s familiar in a way I can’t pinpoint, and my heart flip-flops in my chest. It’s a rumbly, honey-coated voice, one that transforms the boring backstory into a cadence of seduction.
Transfixed, I hang on to his every word.
Disappointment fills me as soon as his chapter is over.
I’m almost tempted to fast-forward to get to his next chapter.
Chapter? Heck, I want him to read everything for me.
My medical bills, my text messages, the backs of my ramen packages—anything I can find.
I’ve heard of love at first sight, but what about love at first sound?
Tristen pulls out my earbud and in a finger snap transports me from the imaginary book world to the dingy bus rumbling through the Colorado countryside.
“Why are you smiling like that?” he asks, scanning my face.
“What the heck? I thought I said not to interrupt me.” Flustered, I tuck my audiobook boyfriend in my pocket.
“Well, I thought it might be important since you missed the announcement. We’re pulling into our first stop.”
“Oh. Do we have to get off?”
“You should. It’s good to stretch your legs or they’ll swell.”
“Yes, Dr. Davis. I’ll make sure to stretch.”
With only ten minutes at the first stop, everyone beelines for the bathrooms. Tristen offers to hold my backpack when he sees me waiting in line, and for a split second, I’m almost thankful he came along.
Almost.
I’m wiping my clean, wet hands on my jeans as I walk back out, surprised to see he’s where I left him with a plastic bag of purchases in his hand. He motions for me to hurry, and we race back out to the bus.
After we reach our seats, the bus door shuts with finality, and the bus drives out of the gas station. Tristen digs through his purchases and hands me a bag of trail mix—my favorite kind.
“Oh, hey. Thanks.”
“Here, and this too.”
He places a single Reese’s Cup in my hand, filling me with nostalgia. A peace offering.
Smiling, I open the wrapper and split the candy in two.
“Wanna share?”
“Love to.”
The corner of his mouth lifts as he takes the smaller half and pops the whole thing in his mouth without breaking eye contact.