Page 20 of After Our Kiss

His arms knotted over his chest. Whether he agreed or not, he must have realized arguing was a waste of time. “Be quick.” The door drifted shut behind him.

Dropping onto the toilet, I shut my eyes and sighed; I hadn't been able to hold it much longer.How is this happening to me again?If fate existed, it had a fucked up sense of humor.

Cleaning up, I waited to flush—I didn't want him to know I was done. I couldn't escape through the walls, but there could be something here that would help me later.

Moving around as quietly as I could on my tangled ankles and flats, my eyes throbbed from how intently I looked forsomething.Paper towels, toilet paper, a tiny garbage can... it wasn't striking me as helpful.

I caught my reflection in the mirror—smeared makeup, stained dress, tangled hair. Part of my face was gone where pieces of the mirror had been broken free to reveal the matte foil beneath.That's it.Anxiously I reached up, gently pulling at the glass.

Outside, Conway coughed. “Almost done?”

“Yes!” I managed, popping off a finger sized piece of glass. Hurriedly I wrapped it in layers of toilet paper. It didn't look like much, but to me, it was perfect.

I had a weapon.

Tucking the now safely contained shard into my underwear, I flushed the toilet. Walking would be a challenge but my tied ankles gave me a natural excuse. Conway wouldn't suspect a thing.

He came in as I was rinsing my hands. In the mirror, I saw him watching me. Could he sense my new confidence? Tossing paper towels into the bin, I faced him. “Okay.NowI'm hungry.”

****

Ivery,verycarefully knelt down in the back of the van. Surviving would bemuchmore difficult if I sliced myself open with a piece of mirror.

Conway handed me a bag of chips from the vending machine. Then he offered me a small bottle—lemonade. The wave of sorrow that drowned me caught me off guard.Lemonade.Had he given it to me on purpose? Reaching out, I closed my hand on the bottle, studying his face for... for any hint that this wasn't how it seemed. That kidnapping me was a ruse and he'd take me home. We'd worry about how to move on, but we'd do it. Somehow.

He let go of the bottle. “Drink up, we leave in three minutes.”

“What is this?” I whispered, clutching the lemonade.

“A snack.”

I couldn't look at him anymore, so I stared at my fingernails. My voice was a fragile warble. “How can you be so cruel that you'd give me something to remind me of all the ways you protected me?”

Crickets sang outside the open doors. I wished for a car engine, the crunch of tires, but we were the only ones here. The van rocked when he stepped out, his boots disrupting the gravel.

My gaze was blurry with tears. Lifting my chin, I saw the back of his head—the hard lines that bridged between his shoulders and neck muscles. Everything was stiff, but didn't he always look that way?

“It's just lemonade,” he whispered.

I thought about throwing it at him, except I didn't know how long I'd be here, or when we'd stop next. My pride didn't extend past my need to survive.

But I didn't drink it until he was gone.

I wouldn't give him that satisfaction.

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