A/N - So for this chapter I've had to veer slightly away from canon (Bridget Jones that is!) for reasons that will become clear! I will be moving back to the familiar storyline next chapter :)
The creaking, hot fingers of a hangover dug into my brain as I hugged my pillow. Five more minutes, I told myself as the dull morning sun started to peek over the horizon. Five more minutes and I will get up…
The peace was broken by sound of knocking at the door of my childhood bedroom. "Jess honey, it's seven am, you need to leave soon."
The door edged open, letting a shaft of light pour into the room. I forced myself to sit up, rubbing the gritty tiredness from my eyes. "Morning, Mom," I yawned, wincing as the brightness intensified the banging ache in my head.
My mother made her way to the bed and sat by my legs, patting my left foot with one hand, "So I take it you and Cece had fun last night?"
"Yeah," I replied though a strained smile, "We did." I reached for the glass of water that I had sensibly placed on the bedside table, hungrily gulping the cool liquid back, small streams running down my throat before I wiped them away with the back of my hand. "Urgh. I'm so glad I packed last night. I hate packing before a trip."
"I do not understand why you don't just fly…"
"Mom," I sighed, "I've told you, I like the drive." Reaching forward, I kissed my mother on the cheek. "Okay, I need to shower and get on the road."
Slipping my feet to the floor, I quickly stood until mom grasped my arm and I turned to face her. "I have a favor to ask."
Suspicious, I narrowed my eyes, "What?" I replied flatly.
"Well, Mrs. Miller called and-"
"No," I shook my head.
"But I haven't even finished-"Mom protested.
Grabbing my robe, I knotted it at the waist. "I can see where this is going and no. Stop it Mother. Stop trying to set me up."
"Look Jessica, I'm sorry about the other day. You can't blame a mother for trying. I worry about you! But Nick missed his flight last night and they are all full for the next two days, and since you're driving anyway…"
I ran my hand through my messy, tatted bed hair as I looked at my mom's pleading eyes.
"Please Jess, do me this favor. Mrs. Miller was always such a good neighbor and now she's back in the city…" her voice trailed off and she shrugged her shoulders.
"You know what, fine Mom. But you owe me." With that, I turned on my heel and left the room.
Pulling up outside the Miller's new house, three blocks away, I pushed the car into neutral and balled my hands together, blowing my hot breath onto my cold, icy fingers. I only had to wait for a few minutes before a figure appeared at the driver's window, tapping on it rapidly. I rolled down the window of the Volvo without looking at him.
"Trunk's open," I yawned.
I heard him pop the lock and the sound of a bag being heaved inside. Then footsteps scraped along the frosty winter road until the door opposite me opened and he slid inside, instantly shifting the equilibrium of the car.
"Morning," he croaked. Guess I wasn't the only one who had a good time last night. I glanced over at him. He had a brown wool hat pulled tightly down over his head, covering his eyebrows. This face bore the evidence of a week without the attention of a razor and his shadowy eyes were rimmed the red color of lack of sleep. "Hey, thanks for the ride."
I turned to look at him more closely. His shirt was rumpled, and his coat was patched with silver duct tape (seriously?). From him emanated the pungent scent of stale beer and unwashed skin. My nose wrinkled in disgust.
"Thank your mom," I replied flippantly as I turned the key in the engine.
"Right, so that's how it is…" he said as he pulled off his jacket and fastened the seatbelt across his waist.
"Yep. This is purely a business agreement." I glanced to my right at him, his sharp profile highlighted against the cool, winter morning light. "And seriously, couldn't you have showered?"
"I showered yesterday," he retorted.
I let out a frustrated grunt. "Whatever. Just keep to your side of the car please. When it's your turn to drive, I'll let you know."
"That works for me," he replied as he pulled his hat over his eyes and propped his legs up on the dash.
"Men," I muttered under my breath, as I pressed the accelerator and made for the freeway.
His rattling snoring was jarring. I'd poked and prodded him for the past thirty minutes as we made our way down the coast, but his gruff breathing still continued unabated. Finally, exasperated, I reached over and jabbed a sharp elbow into the soft spot below his ribs.
"Wake up!"
Violently, he roused himself, sharply twisting in the seat and becoming entangled in the seatbelt. "What the-"
"You were snoring. Loudly." I spat out the words, annoyed that my peaceful ride home was being invaded. "I mean, how do you even sleep like that in the middle of the day?"
"I work in a bar – late nights."
Huh, figures, I told myself. He seems the drunken bartender type. I glanced at him in the mirror, watching as his hand ran over the layer of scruff on his cheeks. "Hey, what time is it?"
I pushed back the sleeve of my sweater. Wow, it was already one pm. How had I driven so long without a break? "It's late. Let's stop for lunch and you can take over."
"Okay," he agreed. He was being annoyingly agreeable and nice (well, apart from the body odor and snoring) which was making it very hard for my intense dislike to brew.
"Fine," I replied, somewhat pointedly, as I took the ramp for the nearest rest stop.
It was dark when a loud thud rattled through the car and shook me awake. "What was that?" I asked, shaking the tiredness from my head.
"I'm not sure…"Nick mumbled in reply as he began to pull over to the side of the freeway. The car began to lurch slightly to the right, tilting my body against the door.
After pulling over, I stepped out into the frigid night air and used the flashlight on my phone to inspect the car for damage. It was immediately apparent what the problem was.
"Flat," I said, dejectedly. But not just a flat, the tire was blown out – the rubber tattered and torn.
"Oh," he sighed when he saw the damage.
"You got a spare?" he asked. I shook my head. "Triple A?" I shook my head again. "Alright, then let's find a mechanic."
"Nick, it's seven at night and we're in the middle of nowhere-"
"Actually, we're about an hour from Fresno-"
"Whatever. What I mean is where will we find a mechanic now?"
We both looked at each other as cars buzzed past on the highway behind us. I dragged my toe along the tarmac, kicking the small pebbles that came lose.
"Look, there was a motel sign a couple of minutes back, let's hike up there, get a number – we will be on the road before you know it."
I took a deep breath and looked from side to side, "Fine, let's get a move on."
"Okay, Mike is going to pick up your car tonight; you can get it first thing in the morning." The middle aged woman behind the desk at the Palm View Inn wore her spectacles perched on the tip of her nose, as she spoke it wrinkled a little causing them to dart up and down.
"No," I said, shaking my head and spreading out my hands on the chipped wooden surface, "No, that's not going to work for us. We need to be in LA tonight."
Marion (so her name tag told us) simply shrugged her shoulders. "Only mechanic for fifty miles."
"It's fine," Nick said stepping forward and giving the woman a warm smile, "You've been such a big help. We really appreciate it." He turned and gave me a pointed look.
I rolled my eyes at him before turning back to Marion, "So I guess we are going to need a couple of rooms for the night." I opened up my purse and slid out my Amex, "You can charge mine to this."
Marion chuckled and pointed to the rows of brass hooks behind the desk, "Dearie – only got one room available. It's holiday season don't you know!"
Sure enough, only one silver key with an oversized red plastic key ring remained. Beside me Nick began to snicker. "As if my day couldn't get any worse," I muttered under my breath. "At least tell me it's a room with two beds."
"Sorry, it's a King. But I can put a fold out in there for you, I mean, if that's what you and your boyfriend want-"
"He is not my boyfriend!" I replied hotly. Defeated, I pushed my card across the desk, "We'll take it."
Room 107 was a bare, bland typical rest stop room. Cheap curtains and carpet with dubious stains lined it, lit by the dim glow of low wattage bulbs. After the roll out cot and our luggage were added to the room, there was little space left.
When I reached the bed I pulled away the aging bedspread and tossed it into the corner (not wanting to think about what mysteries it held) as Nick sat on the cot and began to pull items from his bag. Grabbing the remote control I flicked on the TV and began to cycle through the channels.
"I'm going to shower," he said as he stood up.
"Huh?" I replied, confused.
"Apparently I need one," he retorted with a wink.
By the time he was done, I'd made some space in the room by moving the beds and had unpacked a spare set of clothes. Feeling hungry, I'd found a pizza menu by the phone and had ordered up a large pepperoni –delivery promised in thirty minutes or less. Pity they couldn't do the same for a blown out tire.
He stepped into the room in a thick cloud of steam. He'd dressed in fresh clothes (another flannel), but his shirt was left untucked and fastened only by two or three buttons. The deep v it created showed a swathe of thick, black hair covering his chest – still damp from the shower. In fact all of him was still damp – hell, wet. His shirt clung to his skin by the pull of moisture. Trails of water trickled down his face as his dark hair began to curl as it dried.
I must have been staring?
"Are you okay Jessica?"
Damn.
"Huh?" I shook myself from my thoughts. "Um, no. Just thinking." He stared at me and I felt my cheeks glow hot.
I was saved by a quick knocking at the door.
"Oh, that's dinner." I grabbed my purse and headed to the door, pulling out a ten dollar bill and thanking the delivery guy. As I turned back to the room I noticed Nick staring at the pile of clothes I had laid out for the next morning.
"Are they- Do you- Jessica," he said, looking up at me, "Are those days of the week underpants?"
Angrily, I grabbed the pile of clothes and shoved them under my pillow, "Damn Miller, where is your sense of privacy and personal boundaries?"
He chuckled as he pulled open the pizza box. "Sorry, I just though they stopped making those once you got to like, age eight." He silenced himself with a steaming slice of pepperoni.
"Well they don't," I added tartly as I sat and took a slice of my own.
We ate in silence with an old episode of CSI playing in the background. He was so noisy when he ate – taking huge bites, chewing with his mouth open, licking his fingers-
"Can you try and be a bit more civilized?" I asked.
He finished chewing the slice as he rubbed his hands on his jeans, "Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot this was fine dining here."
"Urgh," I groaned, shaking my head and turning to the TV, just in time to see a decomposing body fall out of a closet, "Eww."
A few more minutes passed and I almost forgot he was there.
"So, what do you do?"
"Why do you want to know?" I replied.
"Just trying to make conversation…"
I finished my slice and wiped my hands on a napkin. "I'm a teacher. Middle school."
His reflection nodded in the TV. "Wow, that must be tough. Rewarding, but tough."
"Yeah, it is tough. But I love it." I turned so I was facing him. He was almost dry now, and sober. I hated to admit it but he did look good. Pity he was such a jerk…
"What made you do that – teach I mean?"
I reached down and pulled off my boots, flexing my aching toes as they enjoyed their freedom. "It's all I ever wanted to do –since I was a kid. It was my dream."
His eyes became a little vacant and he seemed lost in thought, "You're lucky you always knew what you wanted to do."
"What?" I asked in mock horror, "You didn't always want to be a bartender?" I saw a flash of hurt in his eyes and winced, "Sorry."
"No," he sighed, "Bar tending was not how I thought my life would go. I went to college, and two thirds of law school, but nothing ever stuck," he started to fidget with the brown leather strap of his watch.
"Well, it's never too late you know."
"Maybe," he replied, before we both fell once more into silence and shifted to watch the small, crackling TV.
Rinsing out my mouth, I popped my toothbrush back into my toiletry bag and pulled on my glasses. After three episodes of CSI I was tired and my brain had had its fill of dead bodies and procedural drama.
"Goodnight," I yawned as I slipped back into the room.
He was sitting with his back to me. I watched as he pulled off his shirt, over his head. His broad back flexed. I was staring again.
Suddenly he turned and I pulled on a quick smile. "'Night." His eyes flashed up and down me. "Nice pajamas." My cheeks reddened. I looked down at my blue and pink striped shirt and pants – oversized and comfy. Was he serious or joking? Part of me didn't want to know. Just wanted this night over with.
I flicked off the bedside light.
The air was still; punctuated by the sounds of breathing and the low hum of traffic noise in the distance. I starfished out in the bed, it was stiff but still comfortable after the hours cramped in the car.
On the floor I could hear the squeak of the sprung mattress of the cot. Once. Twice. Three times.
"Are you okay?" I finally asked.
"Fine." He replied.
I head the mattress groan again as he moved.
"You don't sound fine."
He sighed.
Finally, I sat up. "Look, I need to sleep and I am not going to be able to do that with you making a racket all night. This bed's plenty big enough for two."
"You sure?" he asked, his voice disembodied in the darkness.
"Quick, before I change my mind." I pulled back the thick comforter and scooted to the left of the bed. I heard him stand before his shadowy figure slipped in beside me. I tried to ignore the fact that he was only wearing boxer briefs. I turned to face him.
"This is my side. That is yours. No funny businesses."
"I wouldn't dream of it, ma'am," he chuckled.
I tried to sleep.
The heat of his body was distracting. Although he was about three feet away I could feel it as though his skin touched mine. I tugged at the neck of my shirt, poking one leg out from under the comforter, trying to cool myself. Finally, slowly, sleep came...
I was falling. I didn't know how it began, or where I was, but all I was aware of was the sickening feel as my stomach leapt upwards and the air rushed by me.
I started. Vaguely, I became aware of a heavy weight over my body as I lay on my side. Shifting a little, I pried open my eyes and looked down. One large, unfamiliar arm, lay hooked around me. Even worse, I realized my back was now pressed against his body, Nick's: my butt backed up against his crotch. A cool wave flashed through me. How the hell did we end up like this?
I tried to wriggle away a little, but his arm held tight. "Shhh," he hushed. Was he aware he was spooning me right now? Crap.
After another few minutes of struggling I finally conceded defeat. Relaxing, I let my body slide back against his, his arm scooping under my waist as I did so.
Okay, so this was weird, but I had to admit, kinda nice. It'd been a while since I just slept in a bed with a guy, spooning, snuggling… I missed it. I'd never admit this to him but maybe for just the night I could pretend that this wasn't some ex-childhood neighbour who ticked me off, but a handsome, mysterious stranger who slipped into my bed at night…
I listened to his soft breathing as it tickled my neck, enjoying the feel of his weight against mine, the feel of being wrapped in someone's arms. Yes, I'd pretend for tonight. He'd do.
By morning, I was rolled on my stomach and alone. I heard sounds from the bathroom. Nick. Did he-
I didn't have time to ponder as he appeared once more, same flannel, different jeans. "Morning," he nodded, in a clipped tone.
"Morning."
"Sleep well?" he asked. Was that- did I see a glint of something in his eye? A shift in his tone?
"Uh-um, not bad," I replied.
"Cool. Come on, let's get your car and get out of here."
I stood and straightened my pajamas, "Sure, just give me ten minutes."
I stepped past him and closed the door, lying back against it once inside.
Did he know? Was he asleep the whole time?
Whatever the case, I wasn't about to ask. If he had said anything, I would have lied, said I was asleep anyway. I picked up my hairbrush and began to run it through my hair. C'mon Day, let's get back to LA so we can start forgetting this holiday disaster.
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