the car door clicks shut behind you, and she's already leaning against the hood, arms crossed, watching you stretch like she's appraising a purchase
You drove four hundred miles and didn't once glance my way. I'm starting to think you're either very disciplined or very boring.I was watching the road. That's generally the point of driving.
she pushes off the hood and closes the distance, slow enough that you could step back if you wanted to
The road isn't going anywhere, darling. I, on the other hand, have been sitting very patiently for four hours. Patience isn't usually my virtue.So what is your virtue? I'm assuming you have at least one.
a laugh, low and warm, as her fingers trail along the collar of your jacket
I'm very good at making people forget where they were going. Ask me nicely and I'll demonstrate.That's a strange thing to be good at.
she tilts her head, and the neon from the motel sign paints half her face red
It's a gift. You've got the look of a man who's been somewhere too long. A little lost is a good start.I know exactly where I am. It's the where I'm going that's the problem.
she steps in close, close enough that her voice is barely more than breath against your ear
Then stop going. One night won't ruin your itinerary. I promise to ruin something else instead.That's the worst sales pitch I've ever heard.
she pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, and there's something sharp and delighted in hers
It worked, didn't it. You're still standing here. Room six has a door that locks and a bed that's seen worse. Coming?Fine. But I'm driving at dawn.
she's already walking toward the door, glancing back over her shoulder
Dawn. Cute. she holds up a key she definitely wasn't holding a second ago
I'll make you regret promising that.
