“Are you a virgin?”
Megan stared at her, open-mouthed. “You did not just ask me that.”
She could probably back away or turn it into a joke. That was likely the best decision. “I’m just fucking around. You don’t have to answer that. I just wanted to get a reaction out of you.”
“No, no, let’s keep going. I love this. First you tell me my whole life is beige, and then you ask me if I’m a virgin. It’s a delight. Just exactly the right conversation I want to have at one in the morning.” Megan scrunched down into her seat. “I should sleep if you’re gonna drive. Unless you want to insult me some more.”
“What? That’s not an insult. Being a virgin’s not a bad thing.” Scarlett didn’t want Megan to think she was making fun of her. They may not get along well, but Scarlett felt weird inside, thinking that Megan might believe she was being deliberately hurtful. She wanted to get a rise out of her, not make her upset. “I don’t care if you’re a virgin. It’s all right.”
“I’m not a virgin,” Megan finally said, harsh and sharp and all at once, like it burst out of her. “I’ve had lots of sex. Okay?”
“Okay. Okay.” Scarlett really should not have asked. “I told you, it was a joke. I was joking around.”
“Not everything’s a joke, Scarlett.” Megan turned away fully, and reclined her seat. “Wake me up when there’s a rest area.”
The interior of the car went silent. Beneath the tires, the road hummed, blending with the purr of the engine. Scarlett glanced over at Megan’s reflection, and Megan’s eyes were open the first time, but the next time she checked, they were shut. Megan looked all closed up and small on her side of the car.
“You should’ve brought a blanket,” Scarlett said. “You’ll get cold.”
Megan’s reply was mumbled. “There’s one in the back.”
“Put it on. You’re like some sad orphan, sleeping there without a blanket.” Scarlett hated seeing her like that, even with her sweater looking cozy and soft.
Megan grumbled, and then turned to grab the blanket out of the back seat. She tucked it around her and then went back again, quiet and solemn and closed-eyed in the passenger seat like she was sleeping. Maybe she was. At least she didn’t look like a Dickens character anymore. Scarlett enjoyed the peace and quiet.
Until, of course, she stopped enjoying the peace and quiet. She couldn’t sleep, because she was driving, and she couldn’t talk to Megan anymore because Megan was sleeping or pretending she was sleeping. So she flicked the radio on and waited for Megan to complain about it.
She didn’t.
Scarlett poked through Megan’s presets. She had good channels programmed. Megan was always into music back in high school, so it shouldn’t surprise Scarlett that she still had good taste. She settled on some pop song and let the music play, tapping along on the steering wheel, humming quietly to herself. Maybe she could do this whole stretch, all the way to Tybee Island. Maybe she could let Megan sleep. She wouldn’t have to wake her up and deal with more conversation that she was sure to ruin.
Light snores came from the other side of the car, and Scarlett had to smile. Some people snored like they were terrifying beasts, a dinosaur eating another dinosaur, but Megan sounded like a tiny cat with little purring snores. She was adorable in many ways. That realization was kind of shitty, too. She didn’t want to feel like Megan was adorable. It was safer to think of Megan as frustrating, untouchable, stubborn as hell, holier-than-thou.
The pop song switched from whatever was on to an oldie, Joan Jett singing “I Love Rock and Roll,” and Scarlett had to sing along. She really wanted to sing loudly, as the song demanded, but she kept her voice down instead. Megan didn’t wake up, so maybe she could sing a little louder. She tried it out. It felt good.
When the song ended, a quiet voice came from the other side of the car. “If you didn’t want me to sleep, you could just say so.”
Scarlett grimaced. “I thought you were sleeping.”
“I was sleeping. But then there was a karaoke bar happening next to me, and so I woke up.” Megan flopped over, shifting to glare at Scarlett from her other side. “You couldn’t have waited until I was awake?”
“I didn’t know what kind of sleeper you are. Maybe you’re a hard sleeper.” Scarlett’s face was hot.
“I normally am. But normally, I’m not listening to the greatest hits of Joan Jett and the Blackhearts from two feet away.” Megan’s expression was still deadpan, but was that a small smile at the corners of her mouth? Did her mouth just twitch? Scarlett couldn’t look away from the road long enough to really see. Hopefully Megan wasn’t that mad. So far, she wasn’t being a very good road trip companion.
Megan shifted back to a regular seated position again. “We should get a book on tape. I don’t want to listen to this bullshit for the entire eastern seaboard.”
“Are you calling Joan Jett bullshit?” Maybe Scarlett would have to reevaluate Megan’s taste.
Megan stifled a yawn with her hand. “No, Joan Jett’s great. I’m talking about your singing.”
It was mean, but the kind of mean with no real malice in it, the kind of mean that made Scarlett laugh out loud. She definitely deserved that. “Go back to sleep. I won’t sing anymore.”
Megan made another “hmmm” noise and rolled back onto her other side once more, facing the window. She pulled the blanket up to her chin. “Maybe just not so loud,” Megan said quietly.
Smiling in the darkness, Scarlett drove onward into the night.
* * *
Megan jolted awake all at once, with no sense right away of where she was, why her body felt all stiff and her eyes dry, or what had awoken her. The reality came flooding in along with the cool gray light of dawn slipping through the windows. She was in her car. She’d fallen asleep in the passenger seat. And she’d woken up because they stopped.
“Where are we?” Her voice came out croaky, and she rubbed her eyes, which felt gritty and gross. She shifted to sit up, stretching her neck.
“Tybee Island.” Scarlett sounded exhausted.
“Have you even stopped since we left?” Megan said. “Have you just been driving?”
“I stopped to pee about an hour after you fell asleep. You didn’t wake up.” Scarlett rubbed her own eyes with the heel of her hand. “I stopped at this McDonalds because I thought you might also want to pee.”
“Oh.” Megan sat up, checking in with her body. “Yeah. Definitely.” She pushed out of the car, swinging the door open. The seatbelt tugged her back. Face burning, she unbuckled, Scarlett’s gaze nearly tangible on the back of her head. She was probably judging. Megan grabbed her toiletries bag out of the backseat and tumbled out, her legs first refusing to support her and then locking up as she headed for the familiar brick building.