Chapter 3
Oh my goodness.
It was actual torture sitting next to Mr. Batman. Because he was always going to be that in my head. Either that or Daddy, which was... not better.
The cab felt too small and too big at the same time. Like all the air had been sucked out, except also I was hyper aware of every inch between us. Which was a problem, because all I wanted to do was crawl across the seat, climb into his lap, and let him kiss the last two years right out of me.
And the silence?
The silence made it so much worse.
Better.
Worse.
Okay. Both.
"So..." I said, propping my elbow against the window and resting my head in my palm so I could look at him properly. "Mr. Crowe. Care to tell me where we're headed?"
He spared me the briefest glance.
The blue of his eyes were so intense it took my breath away. It was so unfair.
"How about you tell me where you want to go," he said, voice low and rough enough to do very dangerous things to my concentration, "and I tell you how close I can get you."
Oh.
Wow.
A full sentence.
I blinked at him.
That had to be, what, at least twenty syllables? Possibly more. Delivered in that deep, gravelly tone that made my entire body sit up and pay attention like it had just been personally addressed.
Do you think he'd notice if I reached down and adjusted my very hard cock?
And if he did notice... would he offer to do something about it?
Focus Alfie!
"Well," I said, straightening slightly. "Mr. Crowe, see the thing is... I don't actually have a specific destination in mind."
There.
Look at me. Using my words and making sense. Considering all the blood had left my head and moved to my other head, that was quite the achievement.
He turned his head fully this time, scowl locked and loaded, and wow, okay, that should not do things to my stomach like that.
Butterflies galore.
"What do you mean?" he asked.
I shrugged, settling deeper into my seat.
"Oh, it's a whole thing," I said cheerfully.
"About two years ago, I hit the road with nothing but my backpack, a couple changes of clothes, a towel, my second-hand laptop, and Mr. Ford.
He's my Terrific Teddy, and a very, very important member of the team. "
His jaw tightened. Hmmm. Interesting.
"I didn't have much of a plan," I went on. "Just figured I'd get as far away from my hometown as possible and, you know, see what happened and where the road took me."
A grunt. So he was paying attention.
"So I stuck out my thumb," I continued, "And got into the first car that pulled over for me. Which, in hindsight, could have gone very badly, but I got lucky. A sweet old granny. She was headed to visit her pregnant granddaughter in the next state over."
Another glance. Sharp this time.
Honestly getting reactions from him was soon going to become one of my most favorite pastimes.
"She even put me up in a motel that first night," I added. "Made me take a driving shift, though, which felt like a fair trade. I mean, I wasn't really about to say no."
The tension in his shoulders eased just a fraction.
"I spent two days with her," I said, smiling a little at the memory of my first road trip with Goldie. "We still keep in touch. Took another trip with her a few months back, actually. I think you always remember your first."
He choked. Like—actually choked.
I lit up immediately.
“Hey, relax, tough guy,” I said, grinning. “Not like that. That came later. A really kind truck driver that gave off definite Leather Daddy vibes.”
A beat.
“…What?” he said, voice dangerously flat.
I waved a hand.
“I mean my first ride,” I clarified, far too pleased with myself. “Goldie was my first ride. Also the first person I wrote about on my blog, which is how the whole thing blew up.”
Silence. I shouldn't feel so proud of eliciting silence from him should I?
“So she shared it,” I continued, “and then her granddaughter shared it, and then one of her friends turned out to be a travel reporter, and suddenly I’ve got millions of followers and people think I’m, like, inspiring.”
I paused.
Then, a little softer—
“Which is wild, considering I mostly just have no idea what I’m doing.”
For a second, neither of us spoke.
The road stretched out ahead.
Endless.
Then—
“You’ve been out here on the road for two fucking years,” Crowe it out.
Oh... he was getting into this. Score!
“Uh-huh,” I said, nodding like a professional.
“It’s basically my full-time job. I’ve got sponsors who pay me to travel to certain states and towns, and then I write about what I see along the way.
I make a bit from social media too, but I’m not a huge fan of editing videos on my laptop, so that’s… not really my brand.”
“You make money doing this?” He sounded so adorably confused I had to physically restrain myself from leaning over and kissing that permanent frown right off his face.
Or, you know. Just kissing him in general.
“Yes!” I said, bright and probably a little too excited. “I mean, I’m not rolling in it like some content creators, but I make enough to keep myself fed, clothed, and I upgraded my laptop a couple months ago, so—growth.”
I shifted in my seat, warming to the topic.
“I figure if I keep at it for a few more years, build up my reputation, get some solid experience, I could land a job with a real magazine or something. People seem to like reading about the characters I meet. The weird little adventures. All the in-between moments.”
I glanced at him, grinning.
“If you’re really lucky,” I added, “and treat me real nice, I might even write about you. Although, I'd probably change your name. You're already a pretty happening dude. Adding a name like Crowe, and they'd accuse me of making you up."
Puh-lease. Like there was any universe where I wasn’t going to write about him.
A boy had to document the exact moment his life derailed because of one grumpy man in a truck. Or as future blog readers would probably know it as:
Chapter Forty-Two: In Which Alfie Meets Mr Right (Now he just needs to convince him)
At that, Crowe went still.
His hands tightened on the wheel, knuckles going just a shade lighter, and something in his expression shifted—sharp, guarded, like a door slamming shut somewhere deep inside him.
Huh. Well, that was telling. I tilted my head, studying him.
“Okay,” I said slowly. “That reaction feels like there’s a story there.”