Page 26 of Playful Kris

He shifts in his seat, turning down the volume as the start of another Taylor Swift song blares through the cab. Grabbing his Prime, he twists the cap off and takes a long drink. My eyes are fixated on his neck, watching as his adams apple bobs with each swallow.

Why do men that we hate have to be so damn handsome?

Once he’s finished prolonging our conversation, he deposits his drink back in the cup holder and smirks at me.

Damn him.

“I guess we probably should talk about them a little more in depth, just to be able to survive the weekend.” His head turns toward me and his eyes are fixed on mine. “They divorced when I was little, I sort of remember them being together, but mostly just their fighting. Kaleb doesn’t remember it the way I do, he was so young that when they divorced it just became his new normal.”

I nod, letting him take a moment before he continues. I’m afraid to interrupt, I don’t want him to shut down and not talk about it.

“My mom ended up having to work multiple jobs to keep a roof over our heads, and honestly, I’m not even sure that was why she was gone all the time.” He sighs, switching hands on the steering wheel and using his now free hand to run across his mouth before propping his elbow next to the window. “I know Dad sent money, so I’m not sure why she had to work so much back then.” He shrugs.

I can tell he’s trying to work it out in his head too.

“Dad walked out of the house one day, and it was like he never came back. He was around, from time to time, but he wasn’t either.” He glances at me, and I can’t quite gauge the look on his face. “If that even makes sense. I ended up being the one who raised Kaleb, I made sure he was up and on the bus for school every morning, I made sure we had lunches packed, I made sure he had his homework done each night. That was all me.”

Without thinking, I reach over, sitting my hand on his shoulder to offer any type of support I can.

“It was just fucked up.” His eyes stay focused on the road. “The entire family dynamic was never the same, I raised my little brother and had very little actual contact with my parents my entire life.” He shakes his head. “Now, they’ve all moved on and expect me to just forget the past.”

He looks at me once more, and I swear, I’ll never forget the look in his eyes. The fire building behind them as he talks about his life’s trauma.

“And I just can’t.” The tone in his voice is finality.

So, I don’t comment after that.

We sit in silence for a little longer until we make the first pit stop of the trip. He needs gas, and I desperately need to use the bathroom. He pulls into one of the gas stalls, telling me he’ll only be a moment, but if I don’t get out right now and find a restroom, I’ll more than likely pee my pants.

I had a coffee before we even got on the road, and while I love Coke Zero, they kill my bladder.

“Be right back,” I tell him, or attempt to tell him over the bed of his truck. My eyes are barely above it.

He nods, turning his back to me and while he starts pumping gas.

Hmm. I guess I haven’t noticed how tight his black t-shirt is across his toned muscles… and now I’m drooling in a random Tennessee gas station parking lot over my ex-boyfriend slash now frenemy.

The second I pull the door open and the chime alerts my presence, I have to really focus on not making a face. It’s a nice looking stop on the outside, but on the inside it’s not as glamorous… or clean. My skin immediately craws as I maneuver my way toward the back where the restroom sign is.

I’m hyper-aware of my surroundings. I just saw a post going around Facebook about certain stops in different states that have been connected to sex trafficking, and I don’t want no part of that mess.

The bathroom is disgusting, just as I suspected. I doubt any of the workers actually clean it the way they’re supposed to, actually I know they don’t. However, being a women means being able to adapt and hover over the toilet. Drip drying isn’t my favorite method, but there is no way I am going to use any of the toilet paper they have scattered around the floor to wipe my vagina.

Nope.

I refuse to even use their sink, I brought hand sanitizer for this reason.

Yanking the heavy door open, I freeze seeing the clerk standing in front of it. He’s only a few Inches taller than me and scrawny. There’s a sparkle in his eye that makes me uncomfortable, and when he smiles… I immediately wish he wouldn’t. I’m not sure if the guy owns a toothbrush.

“Excuse me,” I tell him, attempting to slide between him and the door frame.

“I came to see if you needed anything.” He steps slightly in front of me, just enough that I stop because I don’t want to touch him or the wall.

“No, I’m good. Thank you.” I try to sound as polite as I can, but he still doesn’t move. “If you’ll excuse me, my boyfriend is waiting.” I refer to Kris as my boyfriend, hoping the guy will panic slightly knowing that someone is here with me.

The clerk doesn’t say anything, he just stands there, slightly angled to where I’m blocked in unless I shove his ass into the shelves of chips behind him.

And I’ll do it if he doesn’t fucking move.

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