Page 18 of Sweet T

“I don’t know. Because I’m gay?”

Tucker’s expression shifted to neutral. “No. No, it’s not that. I’m just concerned. This creep put you in the hospital. I can’t help but think what would have happened if we hadn’t found you.”

“Maybe he knew he went too far, brought me to—wait. Where am I?”

“Spoon.”

“Spoon?”

“Yeah. Spoon is the name of the town.”

“Really?”

Tucker’s face flushed red again.

“You’re mad at me.”

“No. Not you. But god help the guy if I ever find out who it is.”

Evan wasn’t sure what to think about someone acting chivalrous on his behalf. He said nothing.

“Where are you from? Why were you hitchhiking?”

“Augusta. I was going to Atlanta. I have a friend there I’m gonna stay with. I don’t have a car.”

“You couldn’t take a bus?”

“I left late. I was in a hurry.”

This time, Tucker’s frustration seemed a little more concentrated in Evan’s direction.

“I got in a fight with my parents,” Evan continued, explaining. “They don’t approve of some of my... decisions.”

Tucker’s face softened. “I’m sorry. It really is none of my business.”

“It’s OK. I’m grateful. At least you’re concerned. More than I can say about some. So where is Spoon?”

“We’re about halfway between Augusta and Atlanta. But off I-20 a good thirty minutes.”

Evan nodded. “He said he knew a place where we could park. We left the interstate for a while. Honestly, I didn’t get bad vibes from him. Well—”

“What?”

“Just when I first got in the car. I thought it was nerves, you know, from watching too many scary movies.”

“You should probably listen to your nerves.”

“It was pouring. I was cold, wet, and miserable. I would have probably blown Sean Hannity just to get warm and dry.”

“You shouldn’t have to blow anyone. Decent people would want to help you. No incentive.”

“Like you.”

“Yeah. Like me.”

“Thank you... Tucker.”

“You’re welcome. So, this friend of yours, in Atlanta. Can he come get you?”

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