Page 58 of No Interest in Love

Thursday

5:27A.M.

Shay isn’t the type of girl someone could sneak out on, because her limbs become the Jaws of Life around the closest object in the sleeping vicinity. Yesterday it was my leg. Today it’s my face.

Not that I’m complaining too much, but my nose hasn’t been this close to cleavage since the Smurfs got action. So I’m not sure what to do¸ but I start subtly.

I clear my throat.

Tap her elbow.

Wiggle my head, but that only tightens her grip. The leg resting on my rib cage flexes and I’m suddenly swallowed by breast. Shay sighs in deep sleep and I try tapping harder on her arm because the air…it’s gone. I can’t find any bit of it, and I think back to when my eighth-grade buddy said if he could choose how he’d die he’d pick being smothered by a massive rack.

“Shay…” I manage to say, pushing my face under her arm to get some air. How in the hell is she keeping this grip up when I’m three times her size?

After trying more aggressive ways of waking her—pinching her side, plugging her nose, and nudging her leg from my ribs—I gather up all the volume I have…

And bark at her.

She shoots upright, knee getting awfully close to my face as she scrambles to her feet.

“Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

She narrows her eyes at my grin, and I slowly stretch out all my sleeping muscles.

“You’ll be happy to know,” I say, “that I came up with a plan last night.”

She covers a yawn. “Call my agency?”

“See, I knew you were gonna say that.” Which is why I tossed around, avoiding sleep till I came up with something. Turns out, according to the train brochure I found near the trash, we’re only twenty miles from the airport. And since Shay likes to stay in motion, may as well push us in that direction.

I sit up and attempt to grab my toes. I only get to my kneecaps. “You up for a bit of walking?”

8:48A.M.

“The Missouri River,” Shay says, looking down on it like it’s an all-you-can-eat buffet.

“You know there’s water in my bag.” I kick it with my foot. Shay was smart enough to fill the water bottle she stole on the train and keep it tucked away. So even though we’re both starving, at least we’re staying hydrated enough to suffer through the sun that’s about to beat down on us all day.

“If it didn’t mean probable death, I’d jump in right now.”

I put my hands on her shoulders and steer her back on course.

“I wish I knew what time it was,” Shay says as we head down a sidewalk off a pretty busy road. The sun’s hitting the traffic low enough that several drivers heading east have their visors down. My bet is we haven’t even made it six miles, but I think I lost my sanity about two days ago, so what the hell do I know?

It’s the morning rush hour, and everyone passing us on the walk does a double take at Shay’s wardrobe and the yellowing bruise under her eye.

“I think people think you’re beating me,” she says as a dude jogging past gives me the look of death.

“I’d beat myself before I touched you.”

“Oh, I have no doubt you beat yourself.”

Was that a masturbation joke? “That’s hitting a bit below the belt, don’t you think?”

She lets out a breathless laugh. “Okay, you win this round.” Her fingers prod at her eye. “Is it bad?”

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