Page 80 of Playful Kris

Kris pulls the truck to a stop next to a gas pump, and I sling the door open without waiting to hear what he has to say… if he will say anything at all that is.

He’s kept his damn mouth shut for the last four hours, he might as well keep it zipped for the next two.

Heat radiates through my cheeks as I practically stomp into the gas station. I make a beeline for the bathroom, and I’m thrilled when it’s more than one stall and no one is waiting.

Silently cussing Kris, I make quick work and use the restroom and wash my hands before I stop and stare at myself in the mirror.

Something is different about me, but I can’t quite put a finger on it. I roll my eyes at myself, because how ridiculous do I sound?

You spent four days on a mountain with your ex and had mind blowing sex and you look different?

Shoot me now. I’m not giving that jackass the credit for this. Whateverthisis.

Stepping back into the gas station, I move toward the drink section and fill a styrofoam cup with Coke Zero before grabbing a candy bar and a bag of chips. The hot dogs on the rotisserie don’t look very appetizing, but I can’t go wrong with a bag of Doritos.

The door chimes, and I impulsively look over. Even though I knew it was going to be Kris because I could feel him.

Our eyes connect briefly, sadness fills his while I’m sure the anger I’m feeling radiates through mine. He opens his mouth, still frozen in the doorway despite people having to step around him to walk outside, but before he can even say whatever he’s wanting to say, I turn away.

He’s had four hours to speak. We’re not going to start in a random gas station along the interstate.

Screw him.

I pay for my things, and turn for the exit when Kris appears next to me with his hand held out. I pause, looking down at his open hand and realize he’s giving me his truck keys.

“I locked it, and I don’t want you sitting outside alone,” he tells me, and I roll my eyes, snatching the keys from his fingers.

He says my name, but I ignore him. I shove the door open, probably with more force than what was necessary and head for the truck he’s parked a few spots away from the main entrance.

Once I’m inside, I sit my bag on the floorboard and pull my phone out.

Me

I’m about two hours from home. I need margaritas and lots of salsa tonight.

Cora

Oh, no. That doesn’t sound good.

Me

It’s awful. This weekend was a mistake.

Cora

Sis. I’m sorry. What happened?

Me

He’s a jackass. That’s what happened. The same ole Kris as always. He got what he wanted, and now we haven’t spoken since last night.

Cora

Wait, what? How have you two been in a car together and not talked at all?

Me

You tell me. I hate him, Cora. I really, really hate him.

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