Page 113 of Faithful

“I’ll be right back,” Kai says, putting the gear into park and unbuckling his seat belt. “Stay here.”

He steps out into the falling snow and disappears inside the building.

Several minutes pass before his silhouette emerges from behind the glass doors, two packs of Parliaments in his hand.

After that, everything happens so fast, the reality doesn’t register with me until it’s over, until we’re back on the road speeding away from the disaster.

One minute the night is still and crisp, carrying the promise of something magical, and then the stillness is rudely disrupted by the loud crunch of snow under boots—several pairs. Then voices. “It’s him! It’s him!”

Kai picks up his pace, his strides rushed.

I check the side-view mirror, but all I see is a curtain of moving white.

The door swings open.

“The seat belt. Get it off,” Kai orders while hurling his body into the driver’s seat. “Come on. Hurry the fuck up.” The cigarettes are haphazardly tossed into the general area of the central console. One of the packs hits my knee instead and drops to the floor as I’m blindly following his command. My fingers are numb and barely cooperating.

“What’s going on?” I cry out, deep down already knowing the answer. Kai got spotted. It’s just my brain and my mouth aren’t on the same page at the moment.

The commotion in the parking lot has closed up on us. In my peripheral vision, several figures appear with their cell phones, and my stomach drops to my fucking toes.

“Kai! Kai!”

“Do you have a second to answer a few questions?”

“Any comment on Finn’s incident?”

I feel like a deer caught in the headlights because the people surrounding us are now directing their attention at me.

“Who's your friend?”

Oh shit.

Kai bangs the door shut and hits the lock button with one hand and yanks the gear shift into drive with the other. The engine roars in response to his slamming on the gas.

Then his palm cradles my head. He nudges me over to him and down to his chest. “Just stay there, okay… They can’t tell who you are by your back alone.” His voice is firm and only wobbles once. At the end.

He maneuvers the vehicle out of the lot while the horde of news chasers continues to yell and pound on the windows of his Dodge Caravan. My body is stretched over the central console and my face is pressed into the hollow of his throat and through it all I can hear the frantic beating of his pulse right underneath his skin, against my cheek.

My own breathing is out of control, and I inhale deeply. I inhale a lungful of him, the smell of his clothes and his cologne.

Kai’s palm never leaves my head. It remains there, warm and protective, tangled in my hair, until we clear the parking lot and get back on the road.

There’s tension in the car, thick and lead heavy, and we’re mute for the first few minutes of the drive, both processing what just transpired.

“So much for taking it slow,” I mutter sometime later, once I’ve slid back into my seat and am attempting to buckle up. My hand is shaking, and the task proves to be a challenge.

Kai cracks the window open and lights up a cigarette.

“Do you think they got my face?” I ask, picking up the pack of Parliaments from the floor to set it into the cupholder next to the other one he just opened up.

“No.”

“You sure?”

The vehicle comes to a stop in front of a red light and Kai uses this opportunity to shift in his spot and look me in the eyes. He reaches up to cup my cheek. “You have nothing to worry about. They didn’t get you on camera. I wouldn’t have let them no matter what.”

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