Page 22 of No Interest in Love

She pushes her lips together, crossing her arms over the giant long-sleeved shirt I let her borrow. I never considered myself a tall guy until I saw her come out in it. She didn’t stand a chance of fitting into any of my jeans, and the one pair of drawstring pajama bottoms I brought I wouldn’t let her go near. They’re my lucky Marvel pants. With the way this trip is going, I’m not gonna risk her ruining them.

So I guess it’s my fault she had to dry her pants. Not gonna admit that, though.

It’s getting dark, and the rain made the air real heavy and hot. I look down the road where we just came from and figure we may as well turn around and head back to a working phone.

“How’s that ankle?” I ask, swiveling my carry-on around to roll it toward the way we came.

“It’s fine.”

“Yeah, I know. But how is it really?”

Her shoulders straighten as her eyes flick past me to a pair of headlights. She quickly fixes the shirt hanging down to her knees, tightening the sides and making her boobs more prominent. “Hold this for me,” she says, and I grab at the extra material while she tries to pose on the side of the road. Yeah, I’m laughing.

The car doesn’t slow, mainly because the driver was texting and I doubt he saw Shay’s hilarious—but, I have to admit, clever—way of getting his attention.

“Well,” she says, shoulders slumping, “zero to zero. You’re up next.”

My mouth picks up at the corner. “You care if we walk during our hitchhike competition?”

She shakes her head, trudging forward. The limp is hardly there anymore.

10:47P.M.

The score is one to zero. I’ve attempted to flag down six cars; Shay’s currently working on her seventh. She’s trying the frantic “Help us!” wave of her arms, which would be adorable if I was allowing myself to think of her as adorable. Which I’mnot.

“I don’t get it,” Shay says, flipping off the tool in the Mercedes flying past us, another very not adorable thing. “Does no one pick up hitchhikers anymore?”

“We must look like creeps.” I kick a rock and roll my carry-on across a particularly bumpy patch of side road. I’ve lost all enthusiasm for this shit. “We should just walk to the airport.”

“Weshould’vetaken the last guy up on his offer.”

I wrinkle my nose, and she lets out the tiniest laugh at the look on my face. When one of us finally scored, the driver offered to take us to the motel he’s staying at. He said it had a good vibrating mattress—which I didn’t think existed anymore—and then gave Shay a toothy, suggestive smile. He had murderer written all over his character description. I took one step in front of her, even though I know Shay could probably kick his ass, and told him we were good walking.

But even knowing that dude was a creeper, I’m regretting the decision now.

“I feel naked.” Shay shivers and pulls her arms into my long sleeves. She crosses them under the fabric near her chest.

“You’re not. I’d have noticed.”

She rolls her eyes. “I mean, I feel naked without my phone, my purse, my wallet. I feel like I should be carryingsomething.”

“You can have this,” I say, sliding my carry-on up a bit.

She gives me one of those “I’m refusing to smile” smiles and shakes her head. “Don’t you feel weird without your phone?”

I shrug. “A little.” I miss being able to push a button to distract me from hellish situations such as this, but no way am I telling her that now. Not after our pact or whatever. “But I’m not as attached to it as you are.”

“I’m worried. What if they move up the screen test? Or Carletta calls again? I never confirmed anything; they might think I’m a total flake. What if they call my agency? Julie will have to tell them that I have the company credit ca—”

“Shit, will yourelax?” I check behind us for headlights. “If you’re this bad metaphorically naked, I’d hate to see you when you’re actually naked.”

“Bull. Like you’dhateto see any girl naked.” She pauses for a second, biting her bottom lip before adding, “Even me.”

My pace slows and the corner of my mouth starts curling upward. She catches the unexpected grin on my previously grumpy face before she shuts her eyes and shakes her head.

“Don’t picture it.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

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