Page 9 of The Stranger
“How much gas do you have?” I ask, leaning over to get a better view.
“Enough for now. I stopped a while back. We should be okay to make it to Marion.”
The windshield is already coated in a thick layer of snow, but I’m relieved to see there’s at least no ice this time. The storm is changing. More puffy snow, less ice. A good sign.
We’re going to be okay.
“If we can make it to Marion,” he goes on, “I’ll stop at a hotel for the night. You’re welcome to stay, too, if you want.” I cut a glance his way, and he quickly adds, “I’ll cover the cost to get you a separate room if you can’t pay for it, obviously.”
I bristle at his words. “I don’t need your charity.”
“Fine then, you can get yourself a room.”
“I don’t need a room.”
“You don’t need much, do you, Tibby?” he asks with a wry expression, his eyes pinched like he’s trying to read me. Unfortunately for him, I’m practiced in the art of keeping my face blank. Unreadable.
“Where are you headed, anyway?” I ask. “Why are you here right now?”
“Well, let’s see…” He taps his chin. “I’m here right now because I’ve had three coffees today, and my bladder was bursting.”
“Ha-ha, Walker. You really missed your calling in comedy.”
“Who says I’m not a comedian?” he teases, finally putting the car in reverse and backing out.
“Well, clearly not at Kevin Hart’s level yet,” I reply, running a finger over the peeling leather of my seat.
“Don’t hate on Annie.” He narrows his eyes at me, a playful hint to them.
“Annie?”
“As in little orphan…” He pats his head.
“The red hair. Got it.” I nod, then roll my eyes as I turn my head away from him. “Of course you named your car.”
He laughs. “Why?”
“You just have that personality.”
“I don’t know whether or not to be offended.” We pick up speed as we ease back out onto the interstate.
“I just mean you’ve got that free-spirited, happy-go-lucky personality.”
“What makes you say that?”
“You picked up a stranger on the interstate and never once questioned if I could be a serial killer, for one thing.”
He nudges me gently with his elbow. “You don’t exactly look the type.” He’s quiet for a moment. “And anyway, I know you think you’ve got me all figured out, but I promise you don’t. Maybe I’m just letting you think I’m this nice and carefree.”
I shrug. No one’s that good an actor, but I decide not to press the issue. Just then, the first vehicle I’ve seen all night speeds past us—a white car going way too fast for the road conditions.
“I guess if you’d waited a while longer, you could’ve gotten a ride with them. They certainly seem to be in a hurry. More your speed.” He gestures toward them.
“Nah, clearly they would’ve been in such a hurry they wouldn’t have stopped anyway. You know, like normal people. Didn’t your parents ever teach you not to talk to strangers?” I scowl at him.
“Well, you’d have had an easier evening than spending time with me, I guess. Just think, you could still be miles back, just the snow and ice to keep you company, freezing your stubborn ass off.”
“You sure like bringing up my ass,” I say, not realizing the words are coming out of my mouth until they have.