A husky man sat at the bar across from me and I eyed him from beneath my hooded cloak. He spoke with a Canadian accent, though I could tell it was not his native one. He drank his ale alone, a classic brew, very pure.

"Another." He grumbled to the man working at the bar. I watched as he watched the bartender grab him another beer, sliding it down the tabletop to him. He picked it up, sipped from it and said "Didn't your Momma ever teach you not to stare?", without once looking up.

Instantly, my eyes darted from him and I dropped my head back to my beer. Luckily, they hadn't asked my age at this bar, and I ordered a beer with little suspicion. I brought the bottle to my lips nervously and sipped it again. I'd been sitting there for over and hour and I still had a fifth of the bottle contents to finish. The tart brew hit my tongue and I suffered the gulp as I forced it down my throat.

I ignored the man's comment, hoping that he hadn't been talking to me, but as I listened, I realized that we were the only two customers.

I sensed his eyes on me now, and my heartbeat quickened. I was pounding so loud, I was sure he could hear it.

"My Momma did teach me not to talk to strangers." I managed.

I heard him smile as he scoffed. "I'm from around here. You're the stranger." He clapped his bottle down on the counter, and turned to face me. "You're looking a little young to be out here all alone, drinking a beer."

"What do you know?" I said, my confidence bubbling in my tone.

"Nothin'." He scoffed again.

"And what about you? You look a little old to be talking to young girls at taverns off the side of the highway."

"Touché." He took a couple steps towards me and I looked at him from underneath the brim of my hood. A strand of my black hair fell in my eyes, and I brushed it back, knocking my hood off. I ran my fingers through my hair and examined the man.

He wore dusty denim jeans, and a rugged leather jacket. His hair looked as if he'd run his fingers through it one too many times. He turned back to his drink, silently. I heard the squelching of his leather jacket as minded his own business.

I sensed his prescience; confident, though slightly broken. I wanted to reach out to him. At the thought I curled my fingers and felt the leather of my gloves squeak. I could never feel the human touch again.

I forced another gulp of beer down my unwilling throat and sat in awkward silence, waiting for one of us to make a sound.

The bartender coughed, which made me jump and I scoffed at my own ridiculousness. He walked over to the jukebox in the corner, inserted a key, and turned on "Heat of the Moment-Asia".I heard him begin to hum it under his breath as he wiped the tables for the fourth time since I'd sat down.

The scruffy man dropped some coins on the counter, which rang out as they bounced and rolled to their stationary positions. "I'm out, Lars. I'll see you around." He nodded to the bartender.

"I wish you well, Logan." The bartender waved. "Have a great life."

I watched in horror as the stranger began to leave. This is my last chance. I thought. If he leaves now, I won't ever get away. I waited until the man was 3/4 of his way out the door before I yelled, "Wait!"

The man turned abruptly, a confused look across his face. "Yah?" He grunted.

"I see you've got a truck there... Big enough for more then one passenger if I'm not mistaken." I swigged the last bit of revolting liquid from my bottle and stepped towards him, leaving the bottle behind.

"I travel alone, if that's what you're asking." He gruffly continued out the door, letting it sway behind him.

"Damn." I breathed.

The bartender laughed. "Don't let him get away, lass. Logan'll warm up to ya' if you ask enough times." He winked and it gave me the courage to follow through.

I threw the man a 5$ bill and ran out to catch the man called Logan.

His truck was backing up and his head was turned, giving my my opening.

As his head was still turned, I ran in front of the truck and stood, my feet planted firmly, my eyes waiting to meet his for the first time, along with his headlights.

"Whoa!" He exclaimed, as he slammed on the breaks, bringing his truck to a complete stop a foot in front of my body. "What the-?"

"All I need is a ride, you can drop me off in the next big city, I just need a way out." I pleaded.

"Little girl, don't you think that is a little creepy?" He slammed the truck door behind him as he stormed over to me. ":It's the middle of the night, at a cheap bar near the American border and a kind like you is begging a man like me for a ride?"

"My name is Marie! And I'm 17. I'm not that little."

"Well Marie, you should go home, sleep in your warm bed with your parents in the other room. You should go to school, and have a boyfriend. Be normal!"

"I've kind of revoked normalcy." I grinned sadly. "Please, let me travel with you. You won't even know I'm there. I'll be quiet, and won't touch anythng."

I could see Logan's change of heart clear across his face. He sighed and beckoned me to the truck. "Let's go!"

I hopped in excitement, and climbed into the truck.

He got in and without looking over said. "Seatbelt."

"Seriously?"

"Yah, seriously! If you're gonna drive with me, my rules. And I say seatbelt."

I rolled my eyes and pulled my seatbelt across my lap and buckled it. "There."

"Good."

Logan turned the key in the ignition and the engine revved, he eased his foot onto the gas and we were off.