Total pages in book: 150
Estimated words: 148434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 742(@200wpm)___ 594(@250wpm)___ 495(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 742(@200wpm)___ 594(@250wpm)___ 495(@300wpm)
I want to tell her to never stop.
I want to tell her that I could listen to her forever.
We’re broken up.
I fight between being a pushy asshole and giving her space that she needs—and I land over on respectful ground.
Give her space.
I keep my mouth closed.
She passes me the flashlight, the plastic thudding into my palm.
“You’re okay staying here?” I ask, just to confirm
She nods. “We don’t need to have another problem to deal with, and me getting frostbite on my toes would surely fall into that category.”
I take a good look at her—head to toe—one last time before I grab my jacket from the backseat and leave.
Brittle air and freezing winds bite my exposed skin and burn my eyes. I tug on my gloves. No time to waste, I bend down and clear snow off the exhaust pipe.
And then I stand and try to wrench open the iced trunk. I forgot to unlock it.
I step back, wind whipping my hair and snowflakes wetting my cheeks. My lungs burn from the cold, breath visible in the dark, and I pull my jacket higher, covering my mouth.
The trunk pops.
Suddenly. Without me doing jack shit.
Jane.
I almost smile again.
And then I remember we’re not dating anymore. Don’t think about it. I reach into the trunk and fumble through the bags and consolidate some of the items into two.
When I shut the trunk, my stomach sinks at what I see.
Jane is outside of the car. Or at least half of her is. She leans out the driver’s side window and ties her purple scarf to the side-mirror.
In case we get buried under snow.
Her body is exposed to the elements, flurries kissing her brown hair and wetting the strands.
I’m about to help, but she’s so quick. In a blink, she’s back inside the car, window rolling up. Good job, honey. I want to tell her those words, but somehow I know that staying in the blistering cold might be more comfortable than sharing a cramped car with her all night long.
We’re not together anymore.
She made that clear.
I double-check the exhaust pipe one more time before climbing into the backseat. Some food and supplies now accessible, I tear off my gloves and stick them in a seat pocket.
Jane is still in the driver’s side, reading the time off her wristwatch. “We should turn off the car in a couple minutes to preserve battery. And only turn it back on every two or four hours after that. I’ve also cracked this window about a half-inch to avoid carbon monoxide poisoning. Just in case snow covers the exhaust pipe while we’re asleep.”
I won’t be going to sleep tonight, but I don’t tell her that. “Looks like we’re all squared away.” I lean back, but my body is a cement block. “We should do four-hour increments, not every two-hours.” I’m not taking any chances.
If we can dig the car out tomorrow morning, we might be able to drive. But if the car dies because we fucked the battery, then we’ve lost that opportunity. Suffering the cold tonight in favor of better odds tomorrow—that’s the plan.
She inhales a deeper breath and angles her head, watching me unlace my boots and take my feet out of them. Her eyes feel like hot lasers on me, scorching each inch of flesh. I shrug off my jacket, damp from the snow, and I stuff it behind my head in the gap between the back window and seat.
Silence.
It eats around us. Painfully, uncomfortably. She’s the only person who could make me despise the quiet. Before her, it never really bothered me. I craved it. Pined for it. Now silence is too loud, too blistering, and I’m begging for her voice to deaden it.
I rub at my lips, frustration building. Not at Jane, but at this situation. I didn’t want to do this here where there’s not an exit for her. Where she can’t run away into another room if she wants.
But I can’t wait.
I can’t spend the next however-long in this fucking cramped car with nothing but the sound of pelting snow and howling winds.
I just fucking can’t.
“Jane,” I say her name a little too loud. My ears ring. “We should talk.”
She hesitates for a long moment like she’s trapped in her brain. And then she says, “I agree.” She ties her frizzed hair to the side. “Give me a moment.” She shuts off the car and drops the keys in the cup holder. I watch as she crawls over the middle console.
I shift towards the door, giving her room.
Now in the backseat with me, we’re staring at each other head-on.
“Ready?” I ask.
Her gaze dips down to my crotch. She blushes and raises her blues back to my face. “I didn’t mean to look at your dick. It was involuntary. You usually ask that during sex. And I shouldn’t even be thinking about us having sex right now.” Her words come out rushed and she touches her temple, eyes squeezed closed. “I am so incredibly sorry. I don’t know how to do this.”