Page 19 of After Our Kiss

- Chapter Six -

Georgia MaryKing

The van ground to a halt.

There were no lights inside the back of the vehicle, just the smudged orange that leaked through the tinted windows after the few hours that had faded away. Hugging myself violently, I'd fought down waves of carsickness mixed with the effects of being drugged. Conway's swerving finally caused me to puke all over myself. It had mostly been water, but it still smelled awful.

He opened both doors, illuminating me in the darkness. Behind him stretched a wall of glitter; stars that winked at me, a sky I might never see again.Stop thinking like that. You don't know what's going to happen.

That was the worst part of all.

“Hungry?” he asked me.

I gestured at myself, feeling no shame. “I threw up everywhere thanks to your crazy driving. So no, not very hungry. I need clean clothes—and I need to pee.”

His arms stretched the doors open wider. It made his lats flex along his rib cage; I hated how good he looked. “I'm not asking for your list of demands.”

“Unless you want piss to join the mess back here, help me out.”

I couldn't read his face; his front was all shadow, his edges lit up from behind so that parts of his shirt became translucent, like a bird's wings as it flew too close to the sun. What was creating the source of light? “Don't try anything,” he said, half-stepping inside and reaching for me.

Scooting closer, I let him grab my arms. He was strong enough to lift me from the van—I was surprised at how gently he did it. The new Conway and “gentle” went together like peanut butter and sewage.

He balanced me at his side. Ignoring his closeness, I looked around, getting my bearings. We were the lone vehicle parked next to a small building with a single orange light bulb set in the overhang. It was surrounded by stiff grass, two vending machines stuffed in a corner by a faded restroom door-

a self-service rest stop.

Every state had them; it gave me no hint as to where I was.

“Come on,” he said, hooking me by the elbow.

“Wait!” Intentionally I let myself stumble; it was easy with my bindings. “I can't go anywhere like this.”

“Don't fuck around. Walk.”

Digging deep, I channeled my inner toddler and went boneless. Flopping to the ground, I scraped my knee, wincing. “You're asking too much, just untie my ankles. I can't use the restroom like this.”

He glared at me, his eyebrows scrunching together above the bridge of his nose. Conway looked over at the van and then at the sky—was he waiting for something? Then he shook himself, scooping me up andcarryingme towards the restroom.

He's not waiting for someone,I realized with a start.He's hurrying because someone is waiting for him.My stomach knotted up as I imagined who it could be.What if it's not a person, but a departure time - a plane?Fuck, if he got me out of the States, no one would ever find me.

Shaking with paranoia, I was slow to notice how Conway was cradling me against his firm chest. His fingers were pressed into my shoulder and the top of my outer thigh.

Looking upwards, I studied his strong jaw bobbing overhead. His facial hair was the same sable color as his hair. It gave him a wild, devil-may-care appearance. If I brushed it, would it feel like sandpaper? Tingles I didn't anticipate flowed under my skin. No one had ever held me like this, it made me hot as an oven in summer.

But it didn't make me feel safe. Once upon a time, it would have.

Kicking open the restroom door, he set me down inside. “Go. And be quick.”

The room was made from mildew-coated tiles and flickering lights (the victim of sparse public funding). The soap container held more pink-residue than actual soap. Above the rotten smelling sink drain was a toaster-sized mirror that had a few major chunks missing. At least the toilet was clean.

Conway stared at me; I stared back. “Well?” he asked.

“I'm not going with you watching me.”

“After the stunt you pulled earlier, I'm not leaving you alone.”

“Stunt?” I laughed sourly. “Trying to save my life is a stunt?” He said nothing, just observed me silently. “Conway, I can't escape. This room has no windows. Stand outside the door. Give me a small bit of privacy. I deserve that much.”

---