She’s an easy target. Push one button, and the rest of the mechanical system fails. I’m bored, and this argument has livened up this mundane road trip. There’s only so much desert you can stare at before you start to go insane.
“You use one of those cup things? Argh, my sister told me about it… I was absolutely mortified.”
Gabriella’s mouth freezes wide open in an expression of stunned surprise. “We are not talking about periods. Period.”
It’s impossible not to keep poking her. She’s fucking sexy when she’s folding her arms, pushing her tits into this triumph pose.
“Let me guess, a pad girl? You don’t strike me as someone who shoves a tampon up her pus—”
“Stop the car right now!”
I pull over to the side of the road and turn off the engine. The dust fills the air around us, finally settling down moments later. Turning to face her, her anger has morphed into some sort of wild beast.
“We need to establish some rules. Okay, buddy?”
I cringe. “Buddy… ouch.”
“One, we do not ever talk about my cycle, periods, pads, or God forbid cups—”
“Hey!” I place my hands in the air. “Just tapping into that feminine side. It’s important for me to know when it’s best to avoid you.”
“Second...” She holds two fingers up. “If we’re on this road trip together, it’s strictly platonic. It means no reference to naked, sex, or ass. Deal?”
I hold out my pinky finger, pouting my lips apologetically.
“Why are you doing that?” She stares in confusion.
“Pinky swear. Isn’t that what you girls do?”
“Ah… yeah. When you’re ten,” she mocks. “Gosh, you’re a pain in the ass.”
“You said no reference to your arse.”
“Just drive.”
With a satisfied smirk, I start the engine and crank up the stereo again. With our problems aired enough to ease the tension between us, I’m surprised when my phone begins to ring through the Bluetooth, and the name Bianca flashes on the screen.
Talk about poor timing.
I haven’t spoken to Bianca since I left Australia, but word on the street is that she hates my guts, and the breakup hit her hard.
This call could go one of two ways.
“Are you going to pick that up?”
“No,” I tell her firmly.
“Why not? Do you have something to hide?”
I click on the answer button, quick to prove I have nothing to hide. “Hello, Bianca.”
“Olly,” she greets rather friendly, her voice just as I remember it. “Is this a bad time to talk?”
“Ah… sort of. Can I call you back tonight?”
“Sure, sounds good…” Bianca pauses, followed by a shuffling sound. “I miss you, Olly. Talk tonight.”
I hit end faster than you can say ‘awkward.’
Beside me, Gabriella is dead still. Her stare is fixated on the road ahead of us. There’s not one single movement or change of expression to indicate her feelings.
After what feels like a long enough time for her to respond, I shut the silence out by turning the music back up.
Ten minutes later, she reaches over and turns the dial right down.
“I left the engagement ring at home, just so you know.”
“I figured since you’re not wearing it.”
“I never agreed to marry Sebastian. My father implied to the media we were engaged. So, whatever this is, it’s not a love triangle.”
Her words are so left field. I sit in silence trying to understand the term ‘love triangle.’
What does that mean?
Is she in love with two men?
“You said this was a platonic trip, therefore, I assume, and not wanting to make an arse out of you and me, this topic is off-limits.”
“I just thought you should know.”
“Well, thank you,” I say, still baffled. “I guess that information is useful.”
“Why?”
“Why what?
“Why is it useful?” she pushes.
Gabriella is trying hard to get it out of me. I have learned in the last hour that her up-and-down mood is tiresome, and this conversation is best held anywhere but here in this confined space. She probably did have her period. I’d still take her, though, from behind, up the arse. A nice blow job wouldn’t hurt either.
Fuck! You better stop your smack talk right now if you know what’s good for you.
“You know what, I’m just going to drive. There’s a rest stop a mile ahead, and maybe we should stop for lunch. You know, lack of food makes some people go crazy.”
“So does sex,” she mumbles beneath her breath.
I hide my smile, happy to know she’s suffering just as much as me.
We pull into a truck stop for lunch. A few guys, rednecks, in my opinion, are eyeing her. Chomping on their hillbilly toothpicks as they snicker to each other while she walks past, the sway of her hips more pronounced. Why she has to wear those shorts is beyond me. They must be new. I’ve never seen her dress so scandalously. Her wardrobe mainly consists of outfits you see women wear in a country club. No doubt the influence of her wealthy family.
“Maybe you should change?” I tell her, giving the guy with the red flannel a death stare.
“Into what? It’s hot out,” she complains, pulling her tank away from her stomach to allow the air to flow.
“Don’t you have jeans? Or something less—”
“Less what?” She raises her brows. “Go on, less what?”
There is no point in carrying on with the most stubborn woman ever to exist. I almost push her through the door into the air-conditioned restaurant which serves rather questionable food.
We order two burgers, share a plate of fries, and when the rednecks come in, I decide we need to get out of here. Gabriella may not understand just how beautiful she is because every man in here turned to check her out from head to toe, but if I want to make it out of here alive without beating the smug look off their faces, we need to bail now.
“You know what? I’m done. Let’s hit the road.”
Three hours into our drive, during an argument over the movie Titanic as to whether Rose could have fit Jack on the door, which lasted longer than I cared to admit, the engine light comes on.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, leaning over to view the dash.
“Engine light. We may need to find somewhere closer to stay for the night while I check this out.”
She pulls out her phone, typing something in. “There’s a bed and breakfast a mile down. Do you want to try there?”
I have some car knowledge but not enough to push through the night without the possibility of being stranded in the middle of nowhere. I’ve watched too many unsolved mystery shows, many of them I remember from heart. This stretch of highway isn’t exactly safe.
The bed and breakfast is a small gray and pink building surrounded by tall palm trees with a sign reading Esmerelda’s Den.