Page 104 of David's Proposal

I try to remember a motel in the area.

If there is one, it must be somewhere along the main road or toward the mountains.

We are heading that way when my phone rings.

Chloe’s name flashes across, and I remember I promised to call her.

I can’t talk to her right now––obviously––and texting her would mean to lie again.

I mute my phone and let it ring. She calls again before giving up. I tuck my phone into my jacket and try to orient myself, making sure we’re still on the road and not some dirty path to a secluded area.

Writers and their angst.

“Are we close?” I ask, a bit antsy.

The man looks at me in the mirror. He’s calm and composed.

“We’ll arrive shortly.”

His eyes go back to the road.

He doesn’t wear a uniform, but he does sport a suit.

Wrestling with anxiety, I lean back in my seat. These things aren’t easy.

Now I know why he picked that place last time.

Luckily, the road starts to snake through the hills, and soon after, the lights of a motel flicker in the distance.

It’s not a bad place, from what I can tell, but it’s a motel. A few cars are parked in the front, and an ‘Open’ neon sign glows in the window.

What am I supposed to ask for? David Moore’s room?

Sometimes my spirit of adventure sucks balls.

The car rolls slowly up to the entrance, and while I feel relieved to slide out in one piece, the uncertainty is killing me.

Maybe this is more than meeting him for sex.

Maybe this is a teaching moment.

Stepping out of my comfort zone and learning things about myself.

Testing my limits.

It’s all great, but what am I supposed to do now?

The car moves away. No way it’s parking to the side and waiting for me.

That’s scary.

It’s the middle of the night, and I’m in the middle of nowhere, not knowing what to do.

I slide my hand out of my pocket and check my phone. There’s no message there, waiting for me, giving me instructions on what to do next.

But what fun life would be if it came with instructions?

‘Figure it out,’the voice inside my head demands.

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