Fighting (29 page)

Except
that whole
having feelings for Ethan
thing.  I kept a tight lid on that.

He
rubbed a hand against the back of his neck and looked around, probably
searching for his patience. 

"I
get that, but you're taking it out on me," he said more quietly.

"You
chose the bike!" I shouted.

He
gave me a look of severe warning and turned to walk inside and pay for the
gas.  My fists were opening and closing repeatedly and I was pacing the length
of the bike.  I wanted to yell something else at him because he was ignoring
me, but I knew he wasn't actually ignoring me.  He was trying to let me do what
I had just said I needed to do; express my anger to exhaust it. 

He
came back outside and started pumping the gas. 

"Fine,
you want to stay on the bike?  Then let's go find another bike and we'll each
have one," I said.  If I was going to chance riding exposed, I wanted to
at least drive myself.

"Like
hell," he said sharply.

"Why
not?" I cried out.

"Because
we're not separating!" he argued.  "If we get into another chase, we
might not be able to stay together.  We don't have any means of communication,
Alex!  How would you be able to find me again?"

I
opened my mouth to argue but he cut me off.  "Forget it.  We stick
together."

I
wanted to hit something.  Or shoot something.  Hell, I wanted to run for two
straight miles.  I paced back and forth and watched Ethan standing still as the
numbers ticked by on the screen.  He calmly replaced the pump and screwed the
lid back on the bike.  I thought he was going to get back on the bike and
demand that I get on so we could leave.  Instead, he came straight at me.  He
wrapped a strong hand around the back of my neck to halt my movement.

"What
does it mean that you got on that bike with me?" he asked.

I
glared at him, knowing he was trying to make a point, and said nothing.  He
scowled back at me and waited patiently.  I felt the heat from his hand seep
into my skin and my hands gripped his waist.  He took a step closer and added
his other hand, so that both of his hands were resting where my neck met my
shoulders.

"What
does it mean?" he repeated calmly.

It
was just as much my choice as it was his that we took the bike.  If I protested
enough, he would have relented and gotten a car.  I knew he had as little
control over the situation as I did and he was under just as much pressure. 
More so, because he was the one who drove us to safety. 

And
it meant that I trusted him.

He
was right, but that didn't mean I was happy about it.  I blew out a deep breath
and my body sagged in surrender.  He felt it and watched as I closed my eyes
and leaned forward so my forehead rested against his shoulder.  He slid his
hands down my back.

"We're
under a lot of pressure, but we can't take it out on each other.  We would tear
each other apart," he said quietly.  "Okay?"

I
took a few moments to breathe him in before I leaned back and let go of him.

"Okay,"
I agreed.

I
glanced over his shoulder and saw a drug store beside the gas station.  I was
sure that the men chasing us recognized us, and I knew we would be less
recognizable in a car, but fuck if I was bringing that up again.

"Where
are we going now?" I asked.

"Sticking
to the plan.  We'll drive for another two hours toward the coast and then stop
and get a hotel room for a few days."

"With
what money?" I asked.  "You have the bulk of it but it's only enough
to get us a room for maybe one night.  And if we're committing to riding this
bike, we really need helmets.  They'll help disguise us anyway.  Those are at
least, what?  Fifty bucks a pop?"

"Helmets,"
he muttered, mulling it over.  "We need new clothes, too.  We only have
one change of clothes."

"So
basically, we need more money," I summed up.

"Basically,"
he agreed.

"Okay. 
So let's get a room for tonight and then tomorrow we'll get money."  I
looked over his shoulder to the drug store again.  "But for right now, we
at least need sunglasses."  I looked back to him and said, "I'll be
right back.  You stay here.  God forbid someone steal the bike that we
stole," I muttered.

I
mentally calculated how much money I had on me during the walk over to the
store.  I wandered over to the sunglasses and picked out black wayfarer glasses
for me.  I didn't know what kind he would want, but he was stuck with whatever
I chose.  I spun the carousel around and stopped it when I found aviator
frames.  I feathered my fingers across a pair of dark gray frames with silver
reflective lenses.  I pictured Ethan wearing them and I smiled.

I
grabbed some eyeliner, mascara and red lipstick and quickly checked out and
walked back to Ethan, who was leaning against the bike with his arms crossed,
waiting.  I slid my glasses on and handed him his pair.  He took them without
question, put them on and looked at me. 

"How
do they look?" he asked.

"They'll
do," I said.

He
turned to climb back on the bike and I smiled at my boots.  Oh, yeah they'd do
because
damn
, he looked fine. 

I
wrapped around him and figured this would be what it felt like if we were a
real couple; stopping for gas, fighting and touching each other whenever
possible.  I knew we had a long ride ahead of us, so I forced my mind to linger
on other, less torturous thoughts. 

The
first twenty minutes of our ride, I scanned our surroundings for possible
threats, but also just because the scenery was pretty.  Eventually, I relaxed
against him and tucked my chin on his shoulder.  He nuzzled his head against
mine for a second in acknowledgement and then straightened up.  That was the
moment that I completely washed my hands of my anger and resentment toward
Ethan and simply lived in the moment, feeling the wind rush through my hair and
his hard muscles flex against me with his movement.  His face was so close to
mine that I felt his beard tickle my skin when the road curved and we had to
lean.

I
enjoyed riding the curves.

We
rode down the highway within the boundaries of the speed limit and Ethan didn't
make any erratic movements, so it was much easier to enjoy the ride.  Funny how
someone shooting at you can change that.

We
rode steady beside of a truck and I switched my chin from his right shoulder to
his left.  I looked over and saw a guy about Spencer's age riding shotgun,
staring at us.  I moved my sunglasses just enough to wink at him.  He grinned a
little and Ethan glanced over when he felt me move.  He saw the guy smiling at
me and changed lanes.  I laughed and smacked his chest.  Like that guy was
going to call the cops.  What would he even report? 

We
pulled into the parking lot of a mediocre looking hotel and walked inside.  It
was nearing five o'clock, and I was tense and stiff from being chased by bad
guys and sitting in the same position for two hours straight.  We got a room on
the second floor and crashed onto the beds almost as soon as we walked through
the door, both from relief and exhaustion. 

Ethan
rifled through his wallet.  "We only have about seventy bucks left,"
he said.

"Enough
to eat supper and get gas for tomorrow?" I asked.

He
turned his head on the pillow to look over at me.  "You're hungry?"

"We
haven't eaten all day," I reminded him.

"Right. 
Guess I'll feed you."

We
crossed the street to a diner and sat down to a satisfying meal of a hamburger
and fries.  We ate in relative silence, opting instead to study our
surroundings vigilantly.  We were crossing the threshold into our room when I
finally spoke.  His back was to me and I seized the moment to say what I had
been marinating on the last couple of hours. 

"I
don't want to fight with you.  I just have trouble . . ."  He turned to
face me and I had to rally to keep talking.  "I
don't
want to fight
with you," I reiterated.  "I'm used to pushing people away,
especially when I feel threatened," I mumbled uncomfortably. 

I
hated talking about myself, but I needed him to know I wasn't a total bitch.

He
walked closer.  "I know."

"I'm
working on it," I said more firmly.

His
features softened when he realized I was apologizing and he murmured, "I
know, Alex."

I
loved it when he said my name softly like that.  It made me want to melt into a
puddle.

A
weight lifted from my chest and I muttered gruffly, "Good.  Glad that's
settled, then."

"I
don't have a lot of faith in people."

I
blinked at him and asked, "What?"

He
took off his boots and sat on his bed.  "I saw the way you were looking at
me earlier."

"My
face is not a book.  Stop reading it," I said in faux irritation.

I
took off my own boots, looking for anything to do to ignore his perceptive
gaze.  I know it was hypocritical of me to analyze those around me but balk
when someone looked back.  But hell, I did have a huge secret I was trying to
hide from him.  I felt like I was about to rob a store that a naturally
suspicious cop was lingering in.  I sighed and sat on my bed and crossed my
legs.

"What
way?  Like I didn't want to admit you were right?" I asked, relenting.

"No. 
Well yes, but I meant when you were irritated.  I figured it was because you
lost it when I didn't."

"Maybe,"
I hedged.

He
reclined back with his hands behind his head.  "I'm too quick to judge
sometimes," he offered, looking at the ceiling.  "And my instinct is
to fight back against conflict with my fists without asking too many questions
first," he said.  "Or at all."

"I've
never seen you use violence instead of words," I argued.  "You always
manage to say the right thing "

He
looked at me like I was a puzzle he couldn't solve.  "With you, yeah.  I
see your face and I somehow know what to say.  I've never done that
before."

"You
must have had a good example from your parents," I guessed.

He
looked back to the ceiling wearing a slight scowl.  "Actually, no.  I
learned what
not
to do from them."

"I
don't know them, but if it's any consolation, you turned out pretty good
anyway.  If I had to choose someone to fight with for the rest of my life, it'd
be you.  You always know how to diffuse the situation."

Wow Alex, go ahead and declare your freaking love already.

We
sat in silence and I thought about turning on the TV, but then he spoke again. 

"I
think it's because I want to protect you, even if it's from yourself," he
said quietly, as if he were thinking aloud.  He looked over at me wearing a
conflicted expression.  "Earlier, on the bike, all I could think about was
how I couldn't shield you from those bullets."

And
then I took the first opportunity I had and yelled at him for it.  Could I have
been a bigger asshole?

"Ethan." 
I climbed to my feet and walked over to his bed.  I sat down on my knees beside
of him and said, "You know I'm not helpless.  You're not in charge of my
safety, I am.  Just like you said earlier, you didn't force me to get on that
bike.  And then afterward, all I did was make you feel worse."  I furrowed
my brow and wanted a do-over.  "I'm really sorry," I whispered.

His
hand shifted behind his head, like he was about to move his arm and touch me,
but he caught himself before he did.  Well, that made me glad that I didn't
actually
declare my feelings for him.  I pushed that disappointment aside and focused on
him.

I
think we both reached our limit for talking about sensitive shit, because his
face suddenly cleared and he said, "I also have a weakness for
kittens."

I
laughed weakly and had the strongest urge to burrow into his side and soak up
his warmth.  Instead, I got up and grabbed the messenger bag to take a shower. 
When I came back out, he had the TV on and was scanning the news channels,
probably looking for anything to do with us or the others.

He
looked over at me when I emerged from the steamy bathroom.  "I left the
bag in there for you," I said.

He
nodded and handed me the remote as he brushed past me.  I crawled into my bed
and felt a little trill of nerves at the thought of sleeping in the same room
as Ethan.  I distracted myself with a sitcom that was actually pretty good. 
And then he came out of the bathroom and devastated my distraction.

He
was shirtless, wearing only his long basketball shorts.  My toes curled into
the sheets and I had to force myself to stare blankly at the TV, absorbing
absolutely nothing I was seeing.  I watched with my peripheral vision as he got
into his bed and relaxed.  I swallowed thickly and turned off the lamp between
our beds.