Page 43 of No Interest in Love

“Can you help me with this?” she asks. I manage to open my eyes enough to see that she’s ripped the side seams and tied them together in close knots, covering the skin along her ribs. I still see her red bra strap on one shoulder because the neck is loose. She wiggles in her seat, moving her stray and tangled hair out of the way and bundling the fabric in the back.

“Tie a knot for me? Make sure it’s tight so my boobs don’t fall out.”

“We could probably get free food if they did.” I reach out and pull the fabric. The small of her back makes an appearance, and I get sick for a whole different reason.

“You’re completely green in the face and you still manage to make stupid jokes.”

“I was being serious.”

Her back moves a little with silent laughter, and she shakes her head, staring straight out the window while I bundle up the T-shirt and pull it till her bra strap is hidden. Either I’m so sick that I’m finding her incredibly attractive right now…or not sick enough.

“Thanks,” she says, and I flop back against the seat and shut my eyes. Think healthy thoughts.

“So what happened at that truck stop?” I ask.

“That’s really not going to help your stomach.”

“Will you talk about something? Distract me?” The train hits another mile-high speed bump and I internally groan. I feel Shay moving around, hitting my legs, which isn’t helping things, but I don’t dare open my mouth right now. She sighs and I hear paper.

“I’ll read. Try to memorize it.” Then she starts reciting the lines from the script. Go figure…Her method of distraction is work.

Wednesday

1:54A.M.

I shoot to my feet, grabbing at the shade on the train window. My stomach turns over and over while I curse at the damn thing for not budging.

The train was supposed to be a brilliant idea. We’re well on our way to the next stop on this road trip from hell. I’ll miss the one-on-one dinner with Carletta, but I’ll be there for the screen test. The rush and pressure were finally alleviated a little bit for the both of us.

Then the train lurches, and my stomach follows. A sick groan rumbles up my throat and out my lips. I settle my forehead on the window, my arms still straight up holding on to the damn shade, which won’t move an inch.

“Sit down before you ruin the upholstery.” Shay tugs on the back of my shirt, and with very little effort she has me back in my seat and shoves my head between my legs.

“I don’t bend anymore,” I grumble at her when she keeps pushing on my neck.

“Take deep breaths. I’ll get you a barf bag.”

“I just need the damn shade closed.” Even though it’s dark outside, the lights zipping past make it look like the Flash is running circles around us. I can’t take much more of it.

She rolls her eyes with a light smile. I inhale deeply, and a tidal wave of stomach acid shoots up to the back of my throat. If I exhale, a pound of sunflower seeds will come out with it.

I swallow hard. Count to twenty. Wipe the sweat from my hairline. Wring my hands together and pull at the back of my head. Shay bumps into my shoulder briefly, and I chance a glance at her by the window, where the blur of the midnight world has turned me into a kid on the teacups at Disneyland who’s had a few too many turkey legs.

Her ass is in my face.

I know there has to be a reason for her ass to be in my face, but I think I’ve lost the ability to think straight.

It’s a great ass.

Gorgeousass.

And she’d kickmyass if she knew how much I want to grab that ass. How does she make it so damn good-looking with mud splatters all over the back pockets? With two torn belt loops? How in the hell have I not noticed this glorious ass in the seven years I’ve known Shay? It’s been attached to her the whole time.

“There,” she says, and it somewhat rocks me out of the motion-sickness-slash-ass-hypnosis I’m stuck in. “Shades are down. Do you still need a place to vomit, sir?” she says in a horrible English accent.

I rip my eyes away with a slight shake of my head as she hops down from the two seats she was standing on. She ties the window shade to the bottom hook and slumps back into her seat. She settles her pinkie nail between her teeth and starts chewing, and my dizzy head swims in and out with the rocking of the train.

“You always do that,” I mumble, pinching my eyes shut. Damn, I’m gonna lie down.

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