Where the Road Takes Me

by Jay McLean

  She giggled. It was genuine, not like the annoying fake ones that spilled out of Hannah. Why did I keep comparing her to Hannah? “You probably should,” she agreed, looking around the parking lot, “but you’re not going to. I’m going to hoof it. Thank you so much, Blake, for everything. Saving me and all.”

  “What?” I straightened, and for some reason, a protectiveness I’ve never felt before kicked in. “You can’t walk by yourself at this time of night.” It came out louder than I’d expected. “It’s not safe. I won’t let you.” I shook my head frantically.

  She smirked. She was amused. Great.

  “I mean it, Abby. I’m not just going to let you walk around on your own.”

  Her laugh cut me off, echoing through the trees around us. “Okay, okay,” she soothed, settling her palm flush against my chest. My shoulders sagged in relief. I hadn’t realized how tense I’d been. She dropped her hand fast. Too fast. “Sorry,” she mumbled, as if I would have a problem with her touching me. She pulled out her phone. The light from it illuminated her face as she ran her tongue across her top lip.

  For a second, I forgot to breathe.

  She was cute. Maybe even hot.

  “You okay?”

  “Huh?” Fuck. I was staring.

  “You zoned out.”

  “Oh.” I faked. “Yeah, I’m . . . nothing. Yeah . . . nothing.” I was going to tell her that I was just tired, but it would have been a lie.

  She smiled again, that same amused smile from earlier. “You want to go for a walk? There’s a restaurant open that serves bottomless coffee and all-day breakfast.”

  On cue, my stomach growled.

  She giggled. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  It had been a while since I’d felt nervous in someone else’s presence. But Abby, she made me nervous. I opened and closed my mouth at least three times, but each time, no words formed. Mustering my courage, I inhaled and began, “So I know that you—” But I stopped when I realized she was no longer walking next to me. I turned back to find her bent over in someone’s front yard, her face in a rose bush. “What are you doing?” I whispered.

  She shrugged and then straightened. “Stopping to smell the roses.” She said it with such nonchalance, as though it was normal for someone to just stop and smell the roses. Once she’d made her way back to me, she asked, “What were you saying?”

  What was I saying? “Just that—”

  She placed her hand in the crook of my elbow and kept it there. I looked down at her, but she, too, was looking down. She didn’t say a word, and for a moment, neither could I. Then I exhaled and tried to relax. She was closer now, closer than I normally let anyone be. Even Hannah. “You said you didn’t want to do the whole get-to-know-you thing—and that’s fine—but I kind of want to get to know you a little.”

  “Yeah?” she asked. “Why?”

  Why? What kind of question was that? “I don’t know. You intrigue me.”

  “I intrigue you?”

  Ignoring her question, I said, “How about you tell me five random things about you?” The streetlights were closer together now, making it easier for me to see her. We’d been walking only about ten minutes before we’d hit a strip of stores.

  She yanked on my arm. “We’re here.”

  I looked around. Nothing.

  She laughed. Then she opened a black door, hidden in an alcove between two stores. Not letting go of my arm once we got inside, she led me through the darkness, down a set of stairs, to a brightly lit basement room, where I was surprised to find myself in what must have been the world’s most secret restaurant. Only then did she release her hold on me. As she walked ahead, my hand moved on its own to the small of her back. I had no idea why or how it happened, but if it surprised her, she didn’t react. She slid into one side of the booth while I stood there like an idiot, deciding what to do. Her lips spread into a slight smile as she moved across, making room for me.

  It was a silent invitation. One that I hadn’t realized I wanted. As I sat down next to her, she said, “I come here often. That’s one.”

  My brows furrowed. “One what?”

  “You asked for five random things.” Raising her eyebrows, she picked up a menu and handed it to me. “Two—I could eat breakfast food all day.”

  I sighed. These weren’t really the things I had had in mind, but I let her continue.

  “Three, I—”

  Then a voice from above me interrupted. “Hey. You’re here late.”

  My eyes snapped up.

  He looked older than us by a few years. He wore your standard apron, but that wasn’t what stood out. He was scruffy, unshaven, and had dark circles around his eyes, almost as if he hadn’t slept for days. He blinked a few times and then rubbed them with the palms of his hands. “Everything okay?” he asked her.

  I turned to face her.

  “I’m fine,” she said, voice clipped. “I didn’t think you’d be on tonight.” She cast her gaze downwards at the menu in front of her. But it was a tactic, a diversion from not having to look at that guy.

  “Are you sure?” he asked again.

  Her eyes drifted shut. Her jaw clenched. I leaned in closer. “You want to get out of here?”

  “Who are you?” the waiter cut in before she could speak.

  Then that protectiveness from earlier kicked in. I turned to him, my shoulders rigid and ready. I began to stand, but her arm curled around mine. “Clayton,” she said quietly. “I’m fine. I promise. I’ll have the usual. He’ll have the same. And two for them.” She motioned toward two homeless people sitting in a corner booth on the opposite end of the room.

  He shook his head but held my gaze. “Make sure she gets home safe, okay?”

  “Of course,” I answered.

  Then he was gone.

  I felt her body relax next to mine, but she didn’t let go of my arm. Facing her, eyebrows raised, I asked, “Ex-boyfriend?”

  “That’s gross. No, more like an older brother.”

  I didn’t question her further, just decided to move on. “Three?”

  She smiled then. “Three? It feels good to have you worry about me.”

  She searched my face for a reaction.

  “Four? I like you, Blake,” she said quietly, looking away.

  “Yeah?”

  She nodded.

  “Good. Five?”

  “Five?” She smiled huge. “Tonight didn’t end up so bad after all.”

  I smiled along with her and settled my arm behind the booth.

  And that was how we stayed: with my arm behind her, itching to move closer. Even when the food came, we didn’t move apart. She didn’t talk much after that, so I did enough for the both of us. She wanted to know about school; I told her about sports. She asked me about home; I told her more about sports.

  And then it struck me—why we were both so comfortable, here, on this one night, as complete strangers. Maybe we both had something to hide. Maybe we both enjoyed the company of someone who didn’t know us well enough to judge us. Maybe we were both so sick of faking it—our breathing had somehow become natural around each other, the way it should be and not a struggle like it usually was.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “You ready for me to take you home now?” I asked as we exited the restaurant into the crisp morning air.

  She tilted her head all the way back; I noticed her straight blonde hair flowing down to her waist as she eyed the sky. The sun had just started to come up. It had turned the atmosphere that unique shade of orange you could find only in that part of town, at that time of the morning. For some reason, the mood seemed to electrify her.

  “It’s perfect,” she whispered, her head still thrown back.

  “Yeah,” I agreed. But my eyes were fixed on her, and I knew we weren’t talking about the same thing.

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nbsp; She smiled, but she didn’t speak. I wasn’t sure how long she stood there, soaking up the morning light, but it didn’t feel like long enough. The restaurant door behind us slammed shut, and Clayton walked out with his hands shoved in his pockets. We both turned to him. He pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and inhaled. Blowing the smoke from the side of his mouth, he jerked his head, motioning for her.

  Abby’s eyes flitted from him to me. “I’ll be right back,” she said, and then slowly made her way over to him. Initially, they spoke quietly—too quietly for me to hear—but all too quickly, their conversation grew heated. “You don’t need to do this,” he barked, pointing up and down at her body.

  She took a step toward me, but he held her back with his hand curled around her forearm. “Fuck you, Clay. You don’t know shit.”

  I stepped forward.

  She held up her hand to stop me.

  Narrowing his eyes at me, he sounded defeated when he said, “I’m just worried about you.” He spoke into her ear but loud enough for me to hear. He kept his eyes locked on mine, as if to make sure I’d heard him. I had. But it only made me more confused.

  About her.

  About that night.

  About everything.

  She frowned. “I’m okay,” she assured him. “You know this is just a hard day for me.”

  He exhaled loudly, then nodded at me as he released her arm. He spun on his heels, threw open the restaurant door, and stepped inside, lit cigarette still in his mouth.

  “Let’s go,” she said, walking past me.

  I rushed up until I was alongside her. “I take it you’re not going to tell me what that was about.”

  She turned to glare at me. Fire.

  “Whoa.” I surrendered. “I’m not your enemy, okay?”

  She relaxed, just slightly.

  Jerking my thumb behind us, I added, “And to be honest, I don’t think he is, either.”

  “Great,” she said sarcastically, “someone else who thinks they know everything about me.”

  I stopped walking. “Abby, I don’t know anything about you. That’s the way you want it to be, remember? You want to give me a little insight so that maybe I don’t go judging that guy at face value, then go ahead.” I crossed my arms. “I’m waiting.”

  Her eyes narrowed, and I detected the trace of a sneer. I couldn’t help but smile. “You’re an ass,” she snapped.

  I laughed. “And you’re cute when you’re mad.”

  I would’ve missed the widening of her eyes if I hadn’t been studying her so intently. Her cheeks darkened before she looked away. “You’re still an ass.” She poked me in the stomach. Then winced when her finger bent back against it. “Dude, you’re like superman.”

  “Does that make you my kryptonite?”

  She smiled then, and raised her nose in the air. With a gleam in her eyes, she said, “Maybe.”

  And that was when it happened.

  Something changed.

  A switch.

  It felt like someone had taken away the gray dullness behind my eyes and splashed color into them.

  Like I was seeing things in a different light, from a different life.

  I swallowed, too nervous to speak.

  Maybe she was my kryptonite.

  She directed me to a part of town that I knew existed but had never been in before. The houses were smaller, not as well maintained as where I grew up.

  “Just here,” she said, pointing to one on the left. “And turn your lights off.”

  I did as she asked. Even went as far as turning off the engine and letting the car roll to a stop. She nervously chewed her lip. Her eyes squinted, focused on the house.

  “What’s going on, Abby? Are you out past curfew or something?”

  She laughed quietly. “Or something.”

  I looked from her to the residence. My nerves formed a knot in the pit of my stomach. Shifting my gaze back to her, I asked, “Are you afraid to go home?”

  Her eyes narrowed.

  There it was again—that protective instinct. “Is someone in there going to hurt you?” I started to open my door. “I’ll kick their ass.” I was dead serious. I didn’t even think about the ramifications of what would happen if I did.

  As I began to step out of the car, she grabbed my arm.

  She eyed me sideways. “No one is hurting me, I swear.” She tried to contain her smile. “There are kids inside. I just don’t want to wake them—it’s early. If they wake up now, it’ll throw their routine off for the entire day . . .”

  “Oh.” I felt like an idiot. She must’ve sensed it, because her hand settled on my arm when she said, “It’s really sweet that you want to protect me, though. Thank you.”

  I wanted to tell her that it was fine and that it wasn’t a big deal, but the sensation of her hand sliding down my arm made the words catch in my throat. Her hand nestled against mine, palm against palm. I watched with bated breath, waiting for her next move. When our fingers linked and curled over, I exhaled with such force that the back of my head hit the headrest. I turned to face her. She raised her eyes and locked them with mine. “You should’ve said something,” I told her. “We could’ve hung out for a bit longer. I didn’t need to take you home.”

  She shrugged. “I just thought that you’d be busy. I didn’t want to take up too much of your time.”

  I squeezed her hand.

  “Walk me to the door?”

  I smiled. “Of course.”

  I wasn’t even sure how it had happened, but on the way to her house, we had both silently reached for each other, linking hands like we’d done in the car.

  Instead of leading me to the front door, she sat down on a swing seat in the yard. I followed her lead; I had no choice, since her fingers were still locked with mine.

  I pushed away thoughts of Hannah.

  “We have to be quiet,” she whispered, gesturing toward the house.

  I nodded and pulled her until she was as close as she could get. She hesitated, only for a moment, before she succumbed to my advances and leaned into me. I swapped the hand that was holding hers and wrapped my arm around her shoulders. I didn’t even think. I just did. “You have younger brothers and sisters?” I asked, kicking off the ground and looking toward the house. The seat swung back and forth a few times while I studied the two-story, wooden building. It was more worn than any of the others on the street. The gutters had come loose, and the shutters were barely hanging on. The yard was overgrown, and the house obviously needed a coat of paint.

  “Kind of,” she replied, leaning back so she could study my face. “This is a foster home, Blake.”

  “Oh. So you’re . . .” I trailed off.

  “A foster kid?” She shook her head. “No. I mean, I was, not anymore. But they’re cool. They’re letting me stay here until gr—” She broke off and let out a disbelieving snort. “No getting-to-know-you stuff, remember?”

  I sighed. “You don’t think we’re past that yet? I’m sitting in your front yard with my arm around you, holding your hand. We’ve walked around together, had a meal together, and driven together. That’s not worth something from you?”

  She pulled out of my grasp, raised her feet onto the seat and wrapped her arms around her knees. Resting her chin on them, her eyes lowered, she said, “And what would your girlfriend say if she knew that you were doing all that right now?”

  “Honestly? She probably wouldn’t care. As long as no one saw us, and it didn’t ruin her reputation.” It was the truth. What Hannah and I had was fickle, at best. I didn’t love her, and I didn’t think she loved me. The way I saw it, it was a show. We never spoke about it. Never dealt with it. I wasn’t sure how we’d ended up the way we had, but for whatever reason, we had never bothered to change things.

  “I doubt that.”

  I shrugged. “
Doubt all you want, but I’m not lying.”

  “You better go,” she said, avoiding my gaze.

  The knot in my stomach tightened. I didn’t want to leave her. Not yet. So I did what I knew best—I turned into a dick. “You’re pissed at me now? So . . . when did you work out that I had a girlfriend? When I gave you her shoes? Tell me if I’m wrong, but that was before you held my hand in the car, right? And before you invited me to walk you to the door? Before you decided to sit here with me and let me be this close to you? Why do all that if you already knew and it mattered to you?”

  She raised her head then, her glare intense. Dropping her shoulders, she whispered, “I just wanted one night.” But she was speaking to herself. Then she swallowed loudly and repeated her words, only this time they were meant for me. “I just wanted one night, Blake. One night where I could forget myself.” She wiped her cheek against her arm. She must’ve been crying. “The person you ran into tonight, that’s not me. I wanted to lose myself. Feel something different, you know?” She shook her head. “It was stupid.”

  “I get it,” I told her. I really did. “You wanted one night to be someone else. There’s nothing wrong with that. Unless, I guess, you’re running from an unchangeable reality. Then you’ll be running for the rest of your life. And you don’t want to do that. You don’t want to feel so trapped in your head that you’re constantly running.”

  Her eyes went wide, and her mouth hung open. “Wow,” she said, exhaling slowly.

  I glanced at her sideways. “What?”

  “You’re not what I expected.”

  “You met me four hours ago. How can you expect anything of me?”

  She kicked her legs off the seat and straightened up. “Blake, I . . .”

  Her front door opened.

  We both turned to it.

  A little kid popped his head out. When his eyes found us, he smiled and took a step outside, closing the door behind him.

  “What are you doing, Sammy?” Abby asked. “It’s too early to be up, and you shouldn’t be opening the door and leaving the house without a grown-up.”