Page 59 of Styx & Stones

“Happy now?”

“Love?”

I study her face and smile. “What?”

“You said ‘the things we do for love’.”

“So?”

She clambers across the seat again and climbs into my lap. Her ass lays on the horn, but I don’t care because her lips are on mine, and I was right. This car is the happiest place on Earth. Her kiss is the happiest place on Earth, and nothing I live to see will ever top it.

When we come up for air, we’re both panting. My dick is hard, and I’m trying not to let her feel it through my jeans.

“You love me?” she asks.

“Yeah, Stones. I’m surprised you haven’t figured that out yet.”

“Will you ... will you go get us a room?”

I chuckle. I might need a minute for the blood to drain from my dick before I can do anything, but I nod and kiss her forehead. “You may have to detach yourself from my hips first.”

“Right. Sorry.”

“Don’t ever apologize for wanting to kiss me.” I grin and she climbs off my lap. Her cheeks are flushed, and she looks a little embarrassed at her outburst because she sinks down in her seat and pulls the blanket up to her chin. “I’d kiss you forever if I could.”

“Me too.” Her smile fades and she picks up her phone, likely to avoid my gaze. There are unshed tears in her eyes. I wish we could live, really live, without the constant reminder that we’re dying.

“I’ll be back.” I slide from my seat and close the door, relishing the cool Fall air on my skin. I walk slower to the office than I should, but my boner is awkward, and I don’t need the attendant staring. So I breathe deeply, and I try to ignore that the girl I want—the girl Ilove—is waiting for me in my dad’s truck.

The old lady manning the desk is more engrossed in her soap opera on the TV than she is in talking to some kid who needs a room for the night. She doesn’t ask questions, I pay cash, and she hands me the keys and tells me where to find the ice machine.

I walk back to the truck and open her door.

Alaska pounces from the front seat. “I saw your video.”

I grimace. “Oh yeah?”

“Uh-huh.” She bites her lip. “You know, if you weren’t so stinkin’ cute, I’d probably punch you for filming me while I slept.”

“No. No, please,” I mock protest. “Anything but your girly punches. I can’t take it.”

She pouts and wraps her arms around me, pushing her nose to my chest and breathing me in. I reciprocate, bowing my head to rest against her hair. I wanna stay like this forever, just breathing her in. Jesus. I sound like a fucking member of a boy band with his jockstrap pulled too tight, cutting off the circulation to his brain.

Too soon, she moves. I grab our shit from the floor on the passenger side and take her hand. “Come, my lady. Your chamber awaits.”

Alaska rolls her eyes. “You’re such a dork.”

“It’s my special talent.” I lead her to the bank of hotel rooms, slide our key in the lock, and open the door.

Brown. Brown is all I see. Brown furniture, brown walls, brown drapes, and overall, the smell of the room is musk and old Russian dude, sauerkraut, and also, the color brown.

“Wow,” Stones says. “That’s ...”

“Brown.”

“Pretty much.” She moves inside the room, turning on lamps with yellow, stained shades. “I wonder how many kids have lost their V-cards after prom here?”

“I wonder how many people were murdered here.”

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