Page 24 of Damaged King

“Do you want to drive?” he asked.

I didn’t drive much while living in New York or while I was at boarding school, though I did have my license. Florida, where it was sunny most of the time, didn’t give me the experience to drive on snow or ice-covered roads.

“No thank you,” I replied.

“Then hand me a burger.”

I took out a warm foil-covered burger and unwrapped it somewhat so he would be able to bite into food and not foil. Then I held it up to his mouth.

“What, are you going to feed me now?” he asked.

“Just bite and stop trying to control everything.”

When he parted his mouth, I had a sudden and unexpected urge to kiss him. My hand almost shook with that revelation. When a smudge of ketchup was caught in the corner of his mouth, I leaned in and my thumb reached the spot at the same time his tongue came out.

I sat back so fast I smushed the bag of food with my bottom.

“Are you okay?” he asked as my cheeks heated.

“Yeah, fine,” I said, straightening in my seat.

“Can I have another bite?”

I looked down and realized I still had his burger in my hand. “Sure.”

Feeding him might have been awkward, but the slippery roads left us with no choice. I ended up eating my lukewarm food after I finished feeding him flattened fries and ignoring his enormous smirk.

When we were done, we were left in companionable silence. My thoughts drifted back to extreme worry. I leaned back and covered my eyes when we came to a complete stop.

“What?” I asked on instinct.

Ahead was nothing but a parking lot of brake lights. He checked his phone before he said, “Road’s blocked ahead. It appears there is a pileup and they’ve closed the interstate.”

“Geez, are you serious?”

I felt like everything that could go wrong was happening to stop me from getting to Gran.

“Yes. Looks like we are going to have to find a restaurant or somewhere to hole up.”

He pulled across a couple lanes, following a trail of cars doing the same. With the snow coming down in heavy drifts, the few businesses we passed had their lights off.

“Hotel?” he asked.

I glanced at the time; it was early evening and I shrugged.

He pulled up to one and told me to stay in the car. When he came out twenty minutes later, he shook his head.

“They’re full. I called a few others and they were booked as well. Apparently, the news says the road won’t reopen for hours.”

“And everyone has the same idea,” I muttered.

“Exactly. I did find one place.” It was ominous the way he spoke.

He turned off a side road that didn’t have much light. It was a bumpy and slippery ride to the point I held on for dear life. When we pulled up to what wasn’t exactly a rattrap motel, but more like a fleabag, I automatically felt itchy. The sign flashed “otel” as the M was dark.

“Yeah,” I said on a sigh.

“It will be fine.”

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