His dark eyes accuse me like he’s got X-ray vision into my mind. “Anywhere but home?”
I stay silent, thinking. Collin sighs as if I’m trying his patience. “You all right?”
“Um-hmm.” I glance back to the bus station door. The guy from earlier isn’t exactly chasing me outside. I let myself get spooked for no reason. He was most likely harmless. Harmless as feeling a daddy-long-legs crawling up your arm.
Collin’s car makes a series of beeping sounds as he unlocks it. “Hold on,” he says. He gets to the door before I do and opens it again.
“This isn’t a date. You don’t have to open my door.” My eye begins to twitch in nervous anticipation.
“Didn’t mean to offend you.”
“Stop opening doors then,” I say as get into the passenger seat. “Please.” The seats are still damp from the crazy gusher I fell into this morning.
“Can’t. Sorry.” He shuts the door and jogs around the car to the driver’s side. I don’t look at him as he settles in and starts the engine.
My eye muscle jerks in a twitching protest, my nerves revolting against the strain of the past twenty-four hours.
“Sure you can.” For reasons I don’t want to think about, it makes me want to cry if people like him exist in a world parallel to my own.
He’s a nice guy with manners. A thought tiptoes into my brain. Maybe he’s fooled me and he’s every bit as creepy as Weird Waldo.
I envision a hacksaw in the trunk he keeps on hand for girls who keep getting into the car with him. Tiny spatters of blood coat the side of the well-used tool.
A piece of some girl’s hair caught in the steel teeth.
“How long since you ate?” he asks.
“Why?” Suspicion tinges the word, making it come out gruff. I clear my throat and mind. “Sorry. Why do you ask?”
He remains silent as he starts the engine and leaves the parking lot. “Let’s decide where I’m taking you.”
A large lump in my throat prevents me from answering right away. I swallow, hoping to push it down. “I have a problem.”
He shakes his head. “It’s clear to me that you have lots of problems.”
Is there such a thing as a nice jackass?
We stop at a red light a couple of blocks from the bus station. I glance over at the car next to us to avoid looking at Collin. It’s a family in an SUV. The dad is driving and he’s nice-looking. The woman beside him looks like a supermodel. There are two toddlers in the back.
The American-dream family living in Midwest suburbia.
The light turns green and I return my gaze to the road ahead. There’s a life out there I want to find. A life without hardship, fear, and secrets. A life I can deny exists until I see proof sitting in the vehicle beside me.
We pass by a restaurant and my stomach, seeming to know we are yards away from something mouthwatering, emits a Mt. Vesuvius-volume protest.
He glares at me as if the sound offends him.
Collin presses his turn signal and slows the car.
“What are you doing?” I nervously glance around to see where he’s taking me.
He turns the Audi into the parking lot of a fancy restaurant. “You’re hungry.”
I don’t have money to waste, and this place has a menu beyond my budget. My stomach roars its displeasure at my hesitance. “No.”
Collin parks the car in a spot near the door and kills the engine. “Meal’s on me.”
“I said I’m not hungry.”
We sit for a few moments in silence. Finally, he shrugs and speaks without looking at me. “I left my place too early for breakfast. Since then, I’ve been on the road or dealing with—” he hesitates with a wry smile, “whatever fate sends my way. So maybe I’m hungry and you can eat with me.”
I ignore his statement. “We’re going in? Can’t you order it to go?”
“I don’t eat in my car. Ruins the upholstery.”
My gaze travels to the stained seat where I sit, my muddy and rumpled clothing the cherry on top. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” I wave my hand across my body in a declaration of how ridiculous his statement is.
He smirks. “No. Not kidding.”
“I can’t go in there. Look at me.”
“And I won’t be able to eat in a car.” His eyebrows dip and he looks at the restaurant door.
“You go ahead. I’ll wait here.” I fold my arms over my miserable stomach. I’m already mortified at looking like he picked me up from the side of the road—and since he did exactly that, shame fills me.
I’m a pitiful charity case.
“Wait here.” Collin looks at me for fifteen seconds after saying it like I might flee the minute he leaves the car. He hops out and disappears.
The afternoon summer sun filters into the car and heats the air. Collin took his keys when he left and the window’s rolled up. I crack the door open.
My best plan for escape self-destructed faster than a house doused with gasoline. I’d planned to use my car as a temporary place to sleep until I could get far away.
Tears blur my vision in the first bout of self-pity I’ve allowed myself since leaving home. I inhale and sit straighter. Feeling sorry for myself isn’t going to get me anywhere.
The sound of footsteps approaching the car surprises me. Collin gets in and starts the engine. A blast of warm air blows from the air conditioning vents. It’s still cooler than the inside of the car and goose bumps prick up on my skin.
I turn away from Collin and wipe my hand under my eyes.
“Man. I’m sorry. I should’ve left the car running. It’s a sauna in here.” He clears his throat. “The heat is brutal.”
“I thought you were going to eat.” I refuse to look at him in case he can see I’ve been crying.
He shoves a heavy, white bag onto my lap. “Here.” Then, he places two paper cups into the cup holders between us.
“You brought me food?” The lump is back in my throat.
“Well, yeah. And I should’ve asked you what you wanted. I got us the same thing.”
My hunger ignores my embarrassment at having to take something else from this guy. I open the bag and find a salad, a chicken sandwich, and a baked potato. “This is all mine?”
He’s watching me and not opening his own container of food. “Umm … hmm. Eat up. But first, here.”
He produces a package of wet wipes from the console and hands me one. I don’t argue and clean my hands. My mouth waters and my hands shake as I dig out the package of plastic utensils and a napkin.
I’m completely absorbed in the wonderful sensations of mayonnaise, fresh lettuce, and tomatoes. My taste buds do a river dance each time I take a bite. I stop chewing. I’m halfway through my sandwich before I glance over at Collin.
“You have twenty dollars, no car, no food. You’re not telling me a specific destination where I can take you.” Collin deliberately opens his own white bag and pulls out the baked potato container. He looks around the car as if he doesn’t know what to do with his food.
“I only need to find a place to stay for tonight. I was going to sleep in my car, but well … it’s probably been towed by now.”
“Yeah. I’m sure it’s gone.” He doesn’t say anything for almost a full minute. “I don’t know how to help you. What can I do?”