My eyes fly open. My body goes rigid, and the arms wrapped around me tighten infinitesimally in response to my sudden resistance. My heart climbs into my throat, and I start to feel panic grab hold of me in earnest. It all comes crashing back: the bar, the fight, flying down the road on the back of Flint's bike with my arms wrapped around his waist...the same way his arms are wrapped around me.
Flint himself factors heavily into my waking revelation of the circumstances. Clearly, that is who’s holding onto me now.
Worst of all, I can feel something butting up against the crevice between my legs, something enormous and rigid. For all of a split second, I am unable to identify what it is. Then my face heats, far beyond any regular blush, when I realize what it is. It's Flint; all Flint. After a few seconds, I remember to breathe, short and shallow. I try to keep my body from wriggling too much to escape. What happens if he wakes up and finds us in this compromising position? In a half-awake state, would he pick up where he left off last night? Would I be resistant to the idea if he did?
It's hard to feel completely violated when he's clearly grabbed onto me unintentionally in the night. Not only that, but the feeling of Flint's member resting stiff between my legs is stoking my own arousal. I'm sure I'm blushing deeply by this point just considering it, but I'm the only one conscious at the moment, so I don't mind. I realize there is quite a lot about this situation I don't mind, in fact. He assured me we would part ways this morning. Should I try for a goodbye that's a bit steamier? Do I have it in me to be the one to make the first move?
Flint settles my indecision for me. He grumbles in his sleep and turns over onto his stomach, snaking his left arm out from underneath me. I find myself still pinned beneath the dead weight of his right arm, in a decidedly less sexy position. I glower at the ceiling. So much for my plans of seducing him awake.
I slip out from underneath his arm and tread softly into the bathroom. After a quick morning shower, I dry my hair with the hand towel and scrub my face clean over the sink. When I glance up to observe myself in the mirror this time, I decide that I like what I see. Flint was right to drag me up off the floor; despite feeling as if I would never fall asleep with him so close, I obviously did manage it, and my face today looks better for it. I look less drawn than the day previous, and my ivory skin glows with revitalized health. The bags beneath my pale blue eyes have all but disappeared.
I walk back out into the bedroom to find Flint already up and dressing. Despite my best efforts, my eyes stray to the front of his pants, but I see no evidence of the erection I had caused this morning. Either it's gone completely, or he has ways of disguising it. I'm not a man, so I have no idea what he could have done to conceal it from me now...especially when it felt so enormous to begin with.
"Guess this is where we part ways," I offer. Flint straightens from lacing his boots, eyeing me as he throws his bike's saddlebag over his shoulders.
"Guess so."
I want to say more. There is so much I want to ask him. Even if he doesn't readily provide me with answers, having someone to speak minimally to is still better than traveling. I wonder if there is a way I can possibly convince him to let me go with him.
"You know," I begin my scheme as we walk outside together. "It said on the bedside pamphlet that we're provided with a free breakfast. We may as well take advantage of it. Don't you think?"
I can tell that he is eager to be off. I look up at him, watching as he glances off down the highway, almost wistfully. It's a deep, surprising look to behold. I wonder if he feels the pull of the open road, if it calls to him. The rain from last night has washed the world clean, and the smells that greet us this morning are extraordinary. I pause beside him and breath in deeply, enjoying the assault on my senses: the perfume of the green fir trees that line the property, the civilized smell of wet pavement. For the first time since embarking on my new life, I feel peaceful and exhilarated all at once. I feel more like myself than I have in a long time.
This is unfortunate for Flint, because he's about to find out just how stubborn 'Ana' can be.
He turns away from the road to consider me as he mulls over my invitation. My heart reacts strangely to once more having his dark eyes on me, and my pulse flutters when I realize I recognize his expression. For a moment, I swear he stares at me the same way I saw him looking at the road. As if from a distance, sure, but with more longing than I can articulate.
But I convince myself that I'm wrong. I'm completely misidentifying the look, and misinterpreting the situation. There's no way he wants me to tag along, and I'm going to have to convince him. When I see the steely mask come back down over his expression, I'm certain of this once more. It's up to me to decide my future with this man. Something tells me that without him, I might not have one for very much longer.
"Yeah. All right," he agrees. I lead the way this time, taking us both past his bike. He settles the saddlebags back onto the backseat, and then follows me into the tiny room where breakfast is served. There is no one else in the room, not even a motel attendant.
Breakfast turns out to constitute boxes of cereal, milk of an unprinted and dubious expiration date, containers of yogurt, a bowl of fruit, and a plastic case of greasy-looking muffins. I feel a wave of relief at seeing the fruit, and quickly help myself to an under-ripe banana as Flint pours himself a cup of coffee. I see that he takes it black. Of course. I would have felt mildly disappointed if he took it any other way. He pulls the case open and extracts a muffin as I sit down at the table nearest a stack of old Time Magazines. I draw one over and open it on my lap as I wrestle with opening my banana. I have no real intention of reading it; I just want to appear distracted while I weigh my conversation options. I need to choose my words carefully if I want to convince him to let me tag along.
I notice the date printed on the issue is from several years ago. The cover story appears to be about some disappearance and presumed murder that sounds vaguely familiar, although there is no picture of the victim on the front, just a dark amorphous silhouette of a man. I flip it open without any real interest as Flint takes a seat in the chair across from me. I raise the banana to my lips and take a small, conservative bite. I'll have to remember to cram as much of the free food as I can fit into my duffle bag before I head out. It's not exactly seemly, but it might mean the difference between survival and failure on the road ahead, especially if he rejects me and I'm forced to go it alone once more.
My eyes fall to the open page of the magazine and I nearly choke on my breakfast. My grip on the banana releases in surprise, and the piece of fruit falls half-eaten to the floor. Flint sips his coffee and watches me, as if viewing a live sporting event, but he doesn't bend down to retrieve it for me.
"You have to take me with you," I say finally. My voice is surprisingly steady as I stare harder at the open page, making sure that I am truly processing what I'm seeing. It doesn't sound like a question, or even a suggestion: it's the reality of what's about to happen.
Flint is unperturbed by my sudden assertiveness. He undresses his muffin slowly and replies, "I don't have to do anything." He sounds convinced of it. "Look. Ana, was it?" I bristle. Has he really forgotten my name already? "You said it yourself. I ride alone."