again.” I scoffed under my breath. He was such a guy for actually not really being one. “Now what?” he growled.
“Nothing,” I answered again.
“I really hate that answer.”
“I’m so glad you’re in a better mood,” I spouted sarcastically and covered my head with my arm. I slept. I dreamt of f loating, rafting with Clara and our parents down the Ichetucknee River in Florida, something we did every couple of years. Then my dream moved to other dreams. I was falling, but so warm. I wrapped myself around the warmth, not understanding why it moved and even seemed to chuckle. Then I was cold all of a sudden before we were moving again. My head ached.
I moaned when I was blasted with heat, but couldn’t stay asleep any longer. I woke to find myself not in a sleek black car, but an old blue Mustang with white leather. White , cold, freezing leather. I wrapped my arms around myself and sat up in the seat before climbing up in the front.
“Afternoon , sunshine,” he drawled, but he seemed extra chipper about something.
I grimaced. “You’re giving me whiplash, Enoch. Pick a side, already. Either you love me or you hate me. Or…” I rolled my eyes, feeling my cheeks bloom with red, “you know what I mean.”
He grinned wider. “Oh, yes. I know what you mean. Do you like the new ride?”
“I never was a ‘stang girl.”
He laughed. Hard. Too hard. I laughed, too, because Enoch letting loose was too good to pass up joining in. “A ‘stang girl, huh? Wow. We wouldn’t want that.” He grinned over at me. “That sounds painful.”
I pushed his arm. “Shut up.”
We stopped for supper not too long after that. I had about had it with crappy diner food, but that was the way it was on the road. It was getting darker. We were getting closer, and though he didn’t need to sleep, per se, he said he liked to rest and wanted to get a room for the night. I didn’t know if he was just doing that for me or not, but that would be an awfully nice gesture and I didn’t want to give him that much credit.
We checked in to the motel first and then went into the adjoining restaurant. The diner was pretty rowdy that night. There was some kind of karaoke tournament going on and we just happened to catch it on the right night. I don’t think Enoch’s aggravated eyebrow came down the entire time we waited for our burgers.
I laughed at him under my hand, but he somehow heard it over the loud singing and laughing.
“Oh, this is funny? If I wanted to be tortured, I could think of a hundred less painful ways,” he said and sucked down the last of his drink. He waved to the waitress and she refilled his Coke and my diet.
“I pegged you for a hard liquor man.”
“Booze don’t do me any good, love.” He smiled and leaned back in the booth, linking his hands behind his head. “I’m not built like you, remember?”
“Right,” I drawled and tried not to look at his arms stretched in that shirt, but failed. I looked away as quickly as I could, but it wasn’t quick enough. I saw him tick his head to the side, whether in question or trying to catch my eye. Either way, I wasn’t falling for it.
I looked around the room and thought it funny that Enoch and I were the only ones not drunk and falling all over the place. Everyone else had plates of nachos and dart board games going as they listened to horrible singing and waited their turn. It was more like a bar than a diner, really. The sign was deceiving. I heard the song change—a woman singing a very sloppy rendition of Endless Love . I grimaced and shook my head as people got up and started dancing to it just as I saw an eager face coming my way. I turned back to Enoch and tried to act like I was engaged with him. “Oh, no,” I muttered.
“What?” Enoch said and twirled the knife in his fingers. Great, he was already
“Nothing,” I answered again.
“I really hate that answer.”
“I’m so glad you’re in a better mood,” I spouted sarcastically and covered my head with my arm. I slept. I dreamt of f loating, rafting with Clara and our parents down the Ichetucknee River in Florida, something we did every couple of years. Then my dream moved to other dreams. I was falling, but so warm. I wrapped myself around the warmth, not understanding why it moved and even seemed to chuckle. Then I was cold all of a sudden before we were moving again. My head ached.
I moaned when I was blasted with heat, but couldn’t stay asleep any longer. I woke to find myself not in a sleek black car, but an old blue Mustang with white leather. White , cold, freezing leather. I wrapped my arms around myself and sat up in the seat before climbing up in the front.
“Afternoon , sunshine,” he drawled, but he seemed extra chipper about something.
I grimaced. “You’re giving me whiplash, Enoch. Pick a side, already. Either you love me or you hate me. Or…” I rolled my eyes, feeling my cheeks bloom with red, “you know what I mean.”
He grinned wider. “Oh, yes. I know what you mean. Do you like the new ride?”
“I never was a ‘stang girl.”
He laughed. Hard. Too hard. I laughed, too, because Enoch letting loose was too good to pass up joining in. “A ‘stang girl, huh? Wow. We wouldn’t want that.” He grinned over at me. “That sounds painful.”
I pushed his arm. “Shut up.”
We stopped for supper not too long after that. I had about had it with crappy diner food, but that was the way it was on the road. It was getting darker. We were getting closer, and though he didn’t need to sleep, per se, he said he liked to rest and wanted to get a room for the night. I didn’t know if he was just doing that for me or not, but that would be an awfully nice gesture and I didn’t want to give him that much credit.
We checked in to the motel first and then went into the adjoining restaurant. The diner was pretty rowdy that night. There was some kind of karaoke tournament going on and we just happened to catch it on the right night. I don’t think Enoch’s aggravated eyebrow came down the entire time we waited for our burgers.
I laughed at him under my hand, but he somehow heard it over the loud singing and laughing.
“Oh, this is funny? If I wanted to be tortured, I could think of a hundred less painful ways,” he said and sucked down the last of his drink. He waved to the waitress and she refilled his Coke and my diet.
“I pegged you for a hard liquor man.”
“Booze don’t do me any good, love.” He smiled and leaned back in the booth, linking his hands behind his head. “I’m not built like you, remember?”
“Right,” I drawled and tried not to look at his arms stretched in that shirt, but failed. I looked away as quickly as I could, but it wasn’t quick enough. I saw him tick his head to the side, whether in question or trying to catch my eye. Either way, I wasn’t falling for it.
I looked around the room and thought it funny that Enoch and I were the only ones not drunk and falling all over the place. Everyone else had plates of nachos and dart board games going as they listened to horrible singing and waited their turn. It was more like a bar than a diner, really. The sign was deceiving. I heard the song change—a woman singing a very sloppy rendition of Endless Love . I grimaced and shook my head as people got up and started dancing to it just as I saw an eager face coming my way. I turned back to Enoch and tried to act like I was engaged with him. “Oh, no,” I muttered.
“What?” Enoch said and twirled the knife in his fingers. Great, he was already
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