Page 5 of Truck Stop Tempest

My morbid attraction to her wasn’t sexual, not exclusively anyway. No. Tuuli’s allure was soul-deep. Maybe the draw came from her eyes. She was young, late teens, I guessed, but her gaze, when I was careless enough to hold it for more than a blink, hid wisdom that was neither earned nor bestowed. I suspected that Tuuli’s erudition had been forced upon her, evident by the slump of her shoulders and the forced confidence she tried so hard to pull off.

Perhaps the unholy attraction was simply one broken soul recognizing another.

Maybe our mutual afflictions were the reason she haunted me.

Most likely, I was insane.

Didn’t matter. Tuuli was a no-go. Forbidden. A big, flashing neon sign: Danger. NoTrespassing. KeepOut. And so, I pushed forward, focused on the punch of my shoes against the wet ground, inhaling for four beats, exhaling for four. In. One, two, three, four. Out. One, two, three, four. In. One, two, three…continuing until I was nothing but movement, and sweat, and breathing. Until my mind numbed, the screams dimmed, and thoughts of an innocent, blue-eyed beauty faded to nothing.

I ran across town, past The Stop, and halfway up the hill toward home before the unmistakable squeal of brakes set my nerves on rapid fire.

Don’t turn around. Don’t turn around. Leave her be.

“Fuck!” Pulled by an invisible force, I came to a halt, and turned, hoping to catch sight, just one glimpse, of my dangerous little obsession.

Tuuli didn’t step off the number twenty-seven bus like she did every Sunday. The double doors swung open, paused for a beat, then slammed shut, and the vehicle pulled back into traffic.

I stood like a dumbass, wishing I’d waited by the church to make sure Tuuli had caught her ride. “Shit. Shit, shit, shit.” I sprinted to the top of the hill, busted through the door to my basement apartment, and snagged my keys off the counter. When I folded into my Mustang, I cranked the stereo to an ear-splitting level and retraced my path home, hoping she had followed the same route.

Thirteen minutes later, I found her, walking with a spring in her step, bright red cheeks, and no fucking coat. When I rolled to a stop, she walked right past. I honked. Her spine stiffened, and she continued, hurrying her pace.

I sped to the intersection and performed a U-turn, pulling alongside her again, this time with my dark window rolled down. “Get in the car.”

When Tuuli’s frightened gaze morphed into one of relief, topped off with a sweet smile, I damn near gripped my chest, shocked by the unusual rhythm knocking behind my ribcage.

“Hey, Tito,” she said, teeth chattering. “Sorry. Didn’t know that was you. What are you doing here?”

“It’s freezing. Get in.”

“Oh. I’m okay. Thanks, though.” Her pace slowed, but only a little.

“I’m here to give you a ride. Get in.”

She stopped. “Why?”

Jesus effin’ Christ. Young. Naive. Definitely someone to steer clear of.

“Slade said you didn’t get off the bus. She asked me to come and get you.” The lie left my lips with such ease, I even believed it. “So. Here I am. It’s cold. Get in.”

As she scurried to the passenger side, I dialed up the heater, despite the sweaty mess underneath my workout gear.

The girl slid in, hooked her belt, and sat, stiff as a board, arms curled around her purse, broken leather strap twisted through her fingers. Without looking my way, she mumbled, “Thank you.”

It was impossible to ignore the tremble in her arms.

“No coat?” I asked, gritting my teeth.

“Left it at a friend’s house,” she said. “She’s supposed to bring it by later today.”

Seems I wasn’t the only one weaving stories. I ate lunch at The Stop every day. Sometimes dinner, too. I’d yet to see one of Tuuli’s buddies come through. She’d never talked about friends, or family for that matter.

I took the long way around town, hoping to eradicate her shivers before dropping her at work. Tuuli didn’t seem to notice. Her eyes stayed glued to the road, her bag close to her chest, and her lips pinched tight. Worked for me. I wasn’t much for talking. Then again, I’d never been one to run to the aid of a girl I hardly knew, but there I sat, the reluctant hero, and fuck me, but I wanted to hear more of that soft, sweet voice. “So, Tuuli is an interesting name. Is that German?”

Her gaze sliced toward me, never connecting eye-to-eye, then shifted back to the road. “It’s Nordic. At least, according to Google.”

“That would explain the blonde hair, blue eyes.”

Tuuli wiggled in her seat, then cleared her throat. “Why does Aida call you Tits?”

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