Page 17 of Truck Stop Tempest

“Look at me,” he ordered, ducking his head to catch my gaze. “Look at me, please.”

I raised my chin then my eyes to meet his, which were crinkled with worry.

“What’d I say?” he asked, voice soft, controlled.

There was hope in his haunted eyes. Beauty in his scarred face. A soft glow hidden behind the dark mask he wore. A warmth I longed to bask in.

“Why’d you run?” he repeated.

The familiar roar of the bus’s engine grew louder behind me. I was out of time, and dear Lord, I was out of my mind, with want, and fear, and unbearable urges. The rap, rap, rap in my chest beat like a final countdown, and I feared if I didn’t act, didn’t do something, I would cease to be, disappear like a fading apparition.

I dropped my shoes, gripped the sides of his hood, and pushed up on my toes, pressing my lips to the rough stubble surrounding his mouth.

I pulled away, then kissed him again.

“I like you, Tito,” I whispered before scooping my shoes off the ground and sprinting to catch the bus.

Without looking back, I found a seat, tucked my feet under my rear, closed my eyes, and pressed a trembling finger to my lips. He hadn’t kissed me back. Not really. But he hadn’t pulled away either. Funny thing was, his response didn’t matter. I had taken the initiative. Acted on impulse. Conquered fear. I had kissed a man who was dark and dirty, and the earth hadn’t opened up and swallowed me whole.

Father had been wrong.

Daddy Dearest had lied about so many things.

Adrenaline could be to blame, or perhaps the lingering tingle of his stubble on my skin, but the slow burn I suffered every time Tito was near exploded into a full-blown blaze.

Didn’t matter that he thought me a child. Didn’t matter that I’d been lying to him. Didn’t matter that we were polar opposites. I stole a taste, a kiss.

I wanted more.

I wanted more. I wanted more. Fuck me; I wanted more. She wasn’t a kid. She was legal. I sure as hell didn’t deserve that bit of good news, but I’d take it.

The timid little bunny—of legal age—came out of her hole and kissed the scary beast. A fissure in my tight chest opened wide, releasing pressure, filling me with pride, or hope, or fuck, I hadn’t a clue. She’d kissed me. I’d let her. Without reciprocation. Kissing her back would’ve soiled the beauty of the act, her act, hers to own because I could see in her frightened gaze that it took courage for her to press her lips to mine, to speak those words: I like you.

I absorbed the sweet innocence of her kiss, but more so, her confession. She liked me. I couldn’t fathom why. I wasn’t sure why I liked her, too. But I did, or I wouldn’t have been standing outside the church like a crazy stalker waiting to see her. I wouldn’t have chased her to the bus stop, or climbed in after her, or parked my ass in the seat next to hers.

I needed more Tuuli more than I needed to breathe.

She’d yet to notice that I’d followed, and I watched, silent, while she closed her eyes, touched her pink lips, and smiled. Tuuli stayed that way, lolling her head to the side to rest on the window.

When I could no longer stand the silence, I whispered, “I’m sorry.”

Tuuli’s eyes met mine, wide and blue, giving the sky one hell of a run for its money. The surprise on her face faded to relief. “For what?” she whispered back.

“For upsetting you.”

She shook her head as if she couldn’t process my words. “What are you doing here?”

Stalking you. I sunk deeper into my seat. “I’m hungry. Thought I’d head downtown for a bite. Was hoping you’d join me.”

A small smirk played on her face. “This bus doesn’t head downtown, Tito.”

“Oh.” I scratched my temple and dropped my chin to my chest. Smooth one.

“But if we get off two stops down, we can walk,” she said, offering the pathetic dog a bone.

“Good. Yeah. We can walk.”

The bus reeked of body odor, exhaust, and cheap vinyl. The ride was loud, bumpy, and I’d counted three unsavory characters when I’d entered. I decided then that Tuuli would never ride the bus again.

---