CHAPTER 11 #3
“Nine times out of ten, annoying persistence is the key to getting what you want.” Sebastian glanced at me again. His face softened a smidge. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think your theory is farfetched. You have good instincts, Sal. Trust them.”
Something inside me melted a little.
It freaked me out so much, I immediately turned my head to stare out the window. No talking, no looking at him, and definitely no more confessions until my body got on board with the fact that Sebastian Laurent was still our biggest rival. Bits and pieces of bonding didn’t change that.
He didn’t speak again for a while, either, though that might’ve been because he was too focused on driving.
The weather had taken a drastic turn over the past few miles. Sunny skies gave way to angry thunderclouds, and traffic slowed to a crawl as the rainstorm destroyed our visibility.
Forty minutes later, we’d advanced maybe five feet.
“This is insane.” There was a rare note of frustration in Sebastian’s voice. “If we stay on the highway, we won’t make it to Vermont until midnight.”
“What else are we supposed to do?” I checked my phone like it would magically give me an answer. Service was spotty, and it took Google forever to load.
“We’re only an hour or so from the venue. We can take the local streets,” Sebastian said.
“I don’t know.” I glanced uneasily at the rain. The droplets were hitting our car so hard, they sounded like bullets. “This doesn’t seem like the ideal weather for taking backroads.”
“This car is sturdy. We’ll be fine. Would you rather deal with backroads or this?” He gestured at the sea of red taillights before us. It was what I imagined the entrance to hell would look like.
Plus, I hadn’t eaten since lunch at Vivian’s house, and the first pangs of hunger were starting to claw at my stomach.
“Fine,” I said. “But I hope you know what you’re doing.”
Somehow, Sebastian managed to maneuver us across lanes and to the nearest exit ramp. Our GPS rerouted, and I breathed a sigh of relief once we’d escaped that hellish snarl of traffic. I hadn’t realized how claustrophobic it’d made me until I was out.
However, my relief was short-lived. We drove for half an hour before the first inklings of unease prickled along my spine.
“Is it just me, or did we pass by that same gas station ten minutes ago?” The rain had eased a little, and I saw the same blue Toyota parked in the exact same spot as earlier.
Sebastian frowned. “I’m following the GPS. It must be taking us in circles. That’s never happened before.”
He tried to reset it, but it didn’t work. We were still going in circles.
“Screw it. We don’t have time to play tech support,” I said. “I’ll navigate using Google Maps. It should be more updated.”
The app was slower than usual, but eventually, it brought us out of our loop and toward our destination.
This was why I hated road trips. There was too much potential for things to go wrong.
But we were almost there, and the prospect of a hot shower and room service was all that kept me going.
“Turn left,” I said.
“Are you sure?” Sebastian slowed the car and eyed the narrow dirt path leading into the woods. “That doesn’t look right.”
“That’s what the app says.” I refreshed it again just in case, but it gave me the same directions.
He still looked skeptical, but he didn’t argue any further.
We drove down the path. We’d turned off the music ages ago, and it was silent except for the rain and the hum of the car engine. The woods towered around us, the trees so tall and thick they nearly blotted out the night sky.
I was used to bright lights and noise, and the oppressive darkness sent goose bumps rippling across my skin.
“Try rerouting again. This can’t be it,” Sebastian said. “It’s taking us deeper into the woods, not to the main road.”
“I’m trying. There’s hardly any service out here.”
If it weren’t for the app’s offline mode, we’d be fucked.
“Putain.” Sebastian uttered another French curse that was unfit for print. “Forget it. I’m turning around. We’ll go back to that gas station and ask for directions if we have to.”
I was so tired I didn’t crack a joke about him deigning to ask for directions. At this point, I’d happily sleep in the gas station. Anything that would get me out of this damn car.
He made a tight U-turn, but we drove only a few feet before he stopped.
“What’s wrong? Why did you stop?” I asked.
Sebastian pressed the gas pedal. A whirring noise vibrated beneath my seat, but we didn’t move an inch.
“I didn’t.” His face was pale. “I think the tires are stuck.”
My stomach plummeted. “You think?”
“Stay here.” He shrugged out of his jacket and used it as a makeshift umbrella after he exited the car.
I drummed my fingers against my thigh, my nerves too frayed for me to sit still.
After what seemed like an eternity, Sebastian returned. I didn’t have to ask how fucked we were; it was written all over his face.
“It’s the mud,” he said. “The tires are bogged down, but it’s impossible to get them unstuck in this weather.”
“But the storm’s supposed to last all night.”
“I know.”
I swallowed, unsure whether my sudden nausea was due to hunger, fear, or a mix of both. “So what does that mean?”
Sebastian’s expression was grim. “It means we’re stuck in this car until morning.”