Page 43 of The Enemy Face Off

Worrying about accommodation is a future problem. Right now, my only concern is staying on the icy road.

I squint harder.

The headlights, though on full beam, only illuminate a dense wall of white, and the sound of the engine is muffled by the howling wind. It's crazy how quickly conditions changed from a drizzle to a full-blown snowstorm.

About ten minutes later, we approach a barely visible flickering motel sign. I let out a relieved breath as I ease into the parking lot, coming to a stop right in front of the building. I kill the engine but the windshield wipers stay on, fighting a losing battle against the snow pelting us.

"I'll go in and get us two rooms," Beth says, and I'm smart enough not to argue with her because heaven forbid she launches into another rant that ends up with us having sex for some inexplicable reason.

On second thought…maybe Ishouldgoad her just to see what wild tale she spins up this time.

Before I can say anything, she slams the door shut and is bolting inside. I unbuckle my seatbelt and lean back in my seat, left to wonder what might have been if this trip hadn't got hijacked by a freak blizzard.

Had the weather remained drivable, how much more could we have bantered? She didn't even get the chance to start on me about my man bun, my cheesy Christmas sweater, and whatever new insults she's been dying to dish out. Sure, she can rib me over text—and she does, believe me—but nothing beats a face-to-face teasing.

I'm bummed we'll never get that chance.

She's right.

Iamweird…

AnnndI'm okay with that. Because I'm weirdfor her.

She's so unlike anyone I've ever met, and it's the coolest thing. I never know where conversations with her are going to go, I can't predict what she's about to say, and I'm not even fully sure whether she likes me or merely tolerates me.

Just being in her company gives me a bigger rush than stopping a crucial shot in overtime. So if that makes me weird, step aside ladies and gentlemen, and make some room for the king of weirdos.

A few moments later, Beth hops back into the car. I reach around to the back and grab a clean—well, clean-ish—towel and hand it to her.

"Thanks." She starts patting down her wet hair, face, shoulders, and arms before resting the towel in her lap. She looks straight ahead, not saying a word.

"So how'd it go with the room?" I ask, ignoring the strange vibe she's giving.

She continues looking straight ahead but raises her right hand. There's a room key twirled around her finger.

"You got us a room. Excellent. We can wait things out."

She shakes her head silently. A few beads of water drip from her jet-black strands, landing on her shoulders.

"Is something wrong?" I ask, because she's starting to freak me out a little—and not in the usual Beth-way I like so much.

"Is something wrong?" she mumbles quietly to herself. The head shaking intensifies before she stops and slowly turns to stare at me. "Yes, something is wrong. How many keys am I holding up?"

"One," I reply, then add, "You're also giving me the finger."

She gasps and quickly lowers her hand. "Sorry. That was unintentional."

"Oh, please. You totally did it on purpose."

"Believe me, you'll know if I do it on purpose."

She's got a point there. It's not like she holds back on expressing her true feelings around me.

But that doesn't explain why she's acting so strange.

"One key means one room," she says.

"Okay. So why didn't you get two rooms then?"

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