Page 47 of No Mistakes
His expression softens a little, noticing a change. “You sure?”
“Yeah,” I lie, checking my phone to see it’s now 7 p.m. “We’ve still got a few hours, right?”
Carter nods, turning back around to lower the volume on whatever alt-rock throwback is playing. It rattles through the speakers like it’s been waiting for this exact dusty road and golden light moment to happen.
Ant’s hand shifts again on the wheel, and I watch the way his thumb brushes along the leather like he’s thinking. About what, I don’t know. He's always been hard to read. But lately… It’s different.
He notices me looking and raises a brow slightly, silently asking if I’m okay through the mirror. I give him a soft smile and nod.
I wish I could tell him how I feel, about how I imagine us laughing and talking… but I don’t know if that moment will ever come.
“Mands.”
I feel someone shake my shoulder. I groan, burying my face deeper into the hoodie I’d stolen from the backseat, mumbling something that sounds like‘five more minutes’but probably comes out closer to a dying moan.
“Mandy,” Eva says, more insistent this time.
My eyes blink open slowly to the darkness outside my window. The golden hour is gone, replaced by a sea of black. Ilook around, seeing a small sign saying vacancy ahead. It takes a second to register that we’re no longer moving.
I push up on my elbow, rubbing my eye. “Where are we?”
“Motel,” she says, tugging her hair into a quick bun. “It’s just past eight. We arrived a few minutes ago.”
I sit up, noticing the front seats are empty. The driver's side door hangs slightly open, like someone got out and didn’t shut it all the way. There’s a fast food wrapper, half-crushed by my thigh, and my neck’s sore from the awkward angle I must’ve been sleeping in.
Eva glances at me, her tone soft. “You okay?”
I nod automatically, then frown. “Wait. What time did I fall asleep?”
“Right after your little rock concert moment with Carter. Maybe about forty minutes ago.”
Jesus… One minute I was fantasising about Ant’s hands on my thighs, the next I’m drooling into a hoodie in a parking lot like some lovesick groupie. Smooth, Mandy. Real smooth.
I look outside, towards the motel. It isn’thorrible, but it’s no five-star. Cheap plastic chairs outside each door. Flickering lights above red cracked paint. A vending machine nearly covered with a half-broken Coke bottle, and rubbish was scattered across the parking lot.
“Where is everyone?” I ask, voice still rough from sleep.
“Carter and Flynn went inside to check us in. Axel, Gunnar and Ant went to walk the perimeter.”
Of course they did. Because even in a fucking motel, that no doubt smells like mildew and questionable choices, the Ashford boys still like to play soldier.
I stretch my arms above my head, groaning again as my spine pops. The cool air seeps through the cracked door, and my skin prickles where my shirt’s ridden up. I freeze, mid-stretch, noticing movement near the vending machine. A silhouettestands there that I could recognise even if the world were pitch black.
Ant.
He walks past, hoodie low over his head, hands in his pockets, keeping to the shadows like he was born there. He doesn’t look towards the car as he walks with purpose.
Eva gathers her things from the back seats, packing them into a small rubbish bag.
“Why did we stop?” I ask, curiosity getting the better of me.
“I don’t actually know. One minute, we were driving and the next, we were pulling into here. Axel mentioned something about getting some rest, but I don’t believe him.” Eva says, sounding deflated.
“Well, I won’t complain about sleeping in a bed instead of the backseat of a car. There are plenty of things I wouldloveto do in the backseat, and this isn’t one of them.” I tell Eva, collecting my belongings.
I step outside the car, welcoming the fresh breath of air as I inhale deeply.
“It doesn’t look too bad,” Eva says, standing next to me. I look towards the building. A light flickers above the porch, hanging from the rope like it’s clinging to life, casting a sickly yellow glow over the chipped pillars and peeling red paint. The sign above buzzes amongst the silence, the letters ‘Suburban Studios’ shining just a little bit too bright, like it’s trying too hard to seem inviting.
