When I woke again, the room was dark except for the small lamp by the table. Everett was tying his shoelaces in the chair across from the bed. I noticed his hands were free of the bandages, the knuckles looked even worse than they had the night before.
He looked up from tying his shoes, his freshly-washed hair falling over his forehead. “Are you going to be ready soon?” His voice was lacking its usual warm quality. Gone was his playfulness. Something had changed him in sleep.
“Yeah,” I croaked, climbing out of bed. I was completely naked. Everett stood up and walked into the bathroom. “What time is it?”
“Here,” he said as he tossed a pile of clothes at me. I caught them clumsily and then stared at the bundle in my arms. “It’s four,” he said, moving out of the bathroom and gesturing for me to go in. I was cold, but not because of the lack of clothing. Everett was a totally different person.
“Four?” I said aloud. So early. Self-consciously, I grabbed my suitcase and wheeled it in the bathroom, shutting the door to change. I looked at my reflection. My hair was a wild mess, my eyes wide. Probably with shock. Everett had never treated me so coolly.
I washed myself quickly in the shower, drying hastily with the too-small towel.
As I was dressing, I noticed the small bag of cosmetics I’d brought with me. I bit my lip while I decided what to do.
When I emerged from the bathroom, I was wearing shorts and a tank, both more revealing than I usually wore. I was wearing makeup, not a lot, but enough that it should be noticeable. I wore my hair down, shivering each time a wet strand made contact with my skin.
Everett barely glanced at me. “Ready?” he asked, his gaze focused on his phone.
“Um. Yes.”
“Great,” he said without feeling, and grabbed both of our bags on his way out the door, without giving me his usual grin or sarcastic comment.
Something small cracked from within my chest. That was how I was introduced to a new emotion, one I hadn’t felt before.
It was unrequited longing. And it was the loneliest emotion I’d ever felt.
I was going crazy. Everett had turned the music off, his fingers stayed still on the steering wheel. All of the things that annoyed me about him were absent and, inexplicably, that annoyed me even more than before.
He still wore his sunglasses, though they seemed more to shield his eyes from mine than to protect himself from the sun. He hadn’t said a word since we’d arrived at the car. I’d gone from relishing in loneliness, from preferring silence to conversation to my current situation: feeling a gamut of emotions from sadness to anger. The sadness, the longing, was most predominate. I tried to imagine what I’d done wrong, but I couldn’t come up with anything.
It was as if I’d imagined funny, out-going, a*shole Everett. In his place was something I recognized all too well: indifference. Indifferent Everett was frightening. Suddenly, I was wishing for something, for anything. For Everett to call me ten below zero, or five below zero, or whatever it was he’d decided on. For him to say something inappropriate. I’d take rude Everett over this Everett any day.
And that was an epiphany in itself, but something I chose to set aside, in the corner, until I was more able to analyze why I preferred the Everett that made me feel good things to the Everett who ignored me.
“Where are we going?” I finally asked.
“Picketwire Canyonlands.” He didn’t turn his head in my direction.
“Where’s that?”
“South.”
Well, this was going well. “What are we doing there?”
“We’re going on a guided tour through the canyon.”
“What’s in the canyon?”
“Stuff.”
I clenched my jaw. “You’re an a*shole today.”
“I’ll be one tomorrow too.”
“What is your problem?”
Everett turned into a gas station. “What makes you think I have only one?” he asked as he got out and slammed the door.
Well, angry Everett was better than indifferent Everett.
Everett poured out the ice that had melted in the cooler and dumped in more, along with a bunch of water bottles, fruit, and some deli sandwiches he’d picked up from inside the store. I filled the tank as I watched him. He’d grabbed sun screen and I saw him pull some towels out of his suitcase.
“Did you steal those from the hotel?” I asked, a bit incredulously.
I saw the slightest lift of his lips as he looked at me and held the towels. “Yes.”
“They’re going to charge you, you know.”
“Let them. We need towels for today’s trip.”
“Are you going to tell me anything else? Or am I going to have suffer through your silence for the trip?”
“It’s eight hours long, so I’m sure there will be some conversation.” He put the cooler in the backseat and shut the door, bracing one hand on the door while he rubbed his forehead.
My frustration was growing. “Why the cold shoulder? You were fine until your nightmare.” As I said the last word, his eyes shot up to mine.
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Everett opened the driver’s door.
“You don’t seem to want to talk about anything.”
I watched him close the door without getting in. He turned towards me. “You’re one to talk.”
“Is that a pun?”
“No.”
I put the nozzle back and closed the door on the Jeep’s fill spout. “Who are you? Do you regret what happened last night? Because you’re the one who initiated that.” I chewed on my cheek, wishing I could take back the words.
“I don’t regret that.” He finally let some emotion show on his face. “How could I regret that, Parker?”
I leaned against the Jeep, just a handful of feet from him. “Why don’t you tell me what’s wrong?”
“I just don’t feel great. My knuckles hurt and my head is pounding and you keep looking at me like a wounded animal.”
I straightened my back. “No I don’t,” I insisted. “You’re just being exceptionally a*sholery today.”
“A*sholery? Is that a word?” A little bit of playful Everett was coming through his voice.
“Yeah, it is. I can’t lie, remember? It’s against the rules.”
Everett’s lips lifted a bit.
“Let me drive,” I said, holding out my hands for the keys.
Everett looked at me like I was insane. “Not going to happen.”
“Come on,” I said, putting my hand closer to him. “Your knuckles are swollen. Let them rest. I can handle it.”
Everett looked at me and then at my hand. A second later, he’d pulled me up against him. “I like my car.”
“I’ll be careful,” I said, my voice soft. “Please.”
Everett eyed me warily. “On one condition.”
“Okay,” I immediately agreed.
“Kiss me.” I leaned in to give him a kiss, but he put his hands on my shoulders, stopping me. “Wait. Kiss me like you mean it.”
“Like I mean what?”
“Like you mean it. I shouldn’t have to explain.” His voice was patient and he stared blandly at me, waiting to see what I would do.
I placed a hand on his chest, feeling his heart beat through the shirt to my palm. I was struck how beautiful its rhythm was, and then instantly saddened to think of its beat stopping one day. Too much, Parker, I scolded myself. He’s dying. Don’t romanticize this.
My hand on his chest moved up to his neck, wrapping around the back to the nape of his neck. I scratched just the tips of my nails into his scalp and then he hummed a sound of pleasure. I felt the vibrations in my fingers and was spurred on by them. With my other hand, I brought it up to cup his chin and brushed my thumb over his lower lip. His mouth opened slightly, releasing a breath, and I took the opportunity to steal the breath he was about to inhale by closing my lips on his.
One of his hands went to my hip while the other dove into my hair. His lips opened and he took from me, kissing me deeply, passionately.
I knew I wouldn’t forget this kiss. In the middle of a parking lot with dust swirling around us, his fingers dug into my hip bone while his other hand cupped the back of my head, holding me tightly, so tightly that I never wanted to let go. All other sound disappeared, and all I could feel and hear was Everett’s body against mine.
Over and over, he pulled away from my lips only to return to them again, as if my lips were his lifeline, his oxygen.
I pulled back and nearly stumbled away. Where had that come from? I held a hand to my lips and avoided looking at Everett. I couldn’t think. I closed my eyes and willed myself to turn off, to close off from Everett.
I walked away, towards the restroom of the gas station. I nearly fell into the door, falling onto the cold, dirty concrete floor. I shut the door with both hands and shakily secured the lock. And then I walked to the sink below the mirror.
My reflection revealed what I feared. The feelings Everett inspired in me were becoming something more.
“Shit!” I yelled, alone in the bathroom. I slammed my hand onto the sink. I turned on the water and washed my arms up to my elbows before cupping it in my hands and splashing my face over and over.
With my face dripping wet, I looked back at the mirror again. “What am I supposed to do?” I said aloud. I didn’t want this. Didn’t want these feelings. But I wasn’t ready to go home. If anything, I was only more determined to stay on this road trip with Everett. I wanted him to change his mind. Despite my personal feelings – that I wasn’t ready to explore – I wanted him to want to live as much as he wanted me to live.
When I returned to the car, Everett was sitting in the passenger seat and had turned on the music. He’d grabbed a cold water bottle from the cooler and placed it on his knuckles.
When I had climbed in and was settling into my seat, he looked at me funny for a second. “What happened to your face?”
I flipped the visor down and slid open the mirror. Makeup was smeared around my eyes and down my cheeks. I looked like a total mess.
Using my thumbs, I rubbed away the worst of it and then pulled up the bottom of my tank top to wipe the rest away. “It’s your fault,” I said, my head buried in the tank top.
“Why is it my fault?”
“I only wore this makeup for you.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Because,” I said, pulling my face away from the tank top and checking my reflection for any missed spots. “You were so cold this morning. I wanted to get your attention.” It sounded pitiful to me and once again I regretted the words.
“You’d have to be dead to not grab my attention, Parker. And you were barely living when you first grabbed it, so that’s saying something. So imagine how I feel now.”
“How do you feel?”
“I don’t know, Parker.” I looked up at those words. “I honestly don’t.”
“Me neither,” I admitted.