A/N: Late as always, but it's here! Hope you all enjoy; please review, if you can!
Brittany was feeling more miserable every mile. She was hungry, thirsty, sleepy (it was almost midnight), and for once she was actually avoiding the mirror. Most of her make-up had probably smeared all over the place by now and she didn't even want to think about what her hair looked like. She had opted for sunglasses and a simple braid in an attempt to hide her rare less-than-impressive appearance. Maybe next time they stopped somewhere, she'd search for a cute hat or something.
Every fiber in her petite body was telling her to just quit this and go home. Sure, she'd be depressed, but at least she'd be clean, full, and, best of all, not around Alvin.
She hated the way he had to hum along with every song on the radio (and he knew every song). She hated how he looked so relaxed and happy when she felt so horrible. She hated how he was always driving so fast, causing them to constantly be seconds away from death. But most of all, she hated the fact the fact that he talked.
"You've been quiet," he'd say every hour.
"I have a lot on my mind," was her usual clipped response.
"Care to share?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because I hate you."
And that would be that.
Until a few minutes ago, when Alvin came up with a response.
"You know," he said slyly, "you didn't always feel that way."
Brittany closed her eyes and groaned. She knew this would be brought up eventually.
Last summer, Brittany and Alvin had sort of a… thing. They weren't definitely weren't dating or anything; they weren't even friends. It was mostly just them sneaking around and making out in random closets, cars, hallways, and abandoned buildings. As soon as Brittany found out Bart liked her (a few weeks before school started), she put a stop to it. Alvin didn't seem too broken up about it; apparently the next day he was fooling around with Vanessa Kissinger in the bowling alley parking lot.
"If you're referring to the little…" Brittany searched for the right word, "thing we did last year, that was just purely physical and you know it."
Alvin looked at her and turned his face into a pout. "Oh, Brittany, you mean you didn't like me during all that?"
"Like I said," she turned away from him and looked out the window. "Purely physical."
She heard Alvin chuckle beside her, but she continued to face the window. The sky was black; the only thing she could see was short, silver railing lit by the golden lights that lined the highway.
The events from the night before kept coming back to her, as if someone was constantly pressing a rewind button in her mind. She kept seeing Bart's pale, shocked face, and Missy's evil snarl. Why would he choose Snootson over her? Brittany was so much prettier, way more stylish, and a lot more fun to hang out with. The only thing Missy had over Brittany was that she was willing to have sex with Bart. Well, it wasn't like Brittany wasn't willing; she just hadn't been ready yet. But Bart should have known that she was worth waiting for, that he didn't need to settle for some cheap little—
"Well, this is it!" Alvin announced.
Brittany had been thinking so much about Bart and that stupid slut Missy that she hadn't even realized they were off the highway. They were pulling into the parking lot of a dumpy motel. Actually, according to the flickering neon sign, it was a Moe.
"You can't be serious!" Brittany stared at the filthy building in horror.
"Yeah, well, sorry we don't have enough cash for the Four Seasons," Alvin retorted. He pulled into an empty parking space between a dusty, dented pick-up truck and an ancient station wagon with a cracked windshield. Saying that Alvin's shiny red convertible stood out from the crowd was an understatement.
"I'm going to get us a room," Alvin said. He started to get out of the car, but paused. He looked at Brittany and he snatched the keys out of the ignition like he thought she was going to drive off and leave him there or something.
Brittany snorted. "Nice to know you can trust me."
"Please." Alvin rolled his eyes. "Like you wouldn't do the same thing."
"Whatever." Brittany folded her arms across her chest. "Just get a good room." She looked at the burnt out sign and cringed. "Or at least the best room you can."
"Right away, your highness," Alvin muttered before slamming the door. Brittany just smiled. She liked being reminded that she should be treated like the princess she was, sarcasm or not.
Brittany passed the time by giving imaginary make-overs to the people going in and out of their rooms. The fat guy with the trucker hat could use a shave and a new wardrobe. A frizzy-haired girl about Brittany's age was in desperate need of some lipstick and conditioner. Then there was the woman who may or may not have been a prostitute who should have lost the bright blue eye shadow and dark red lipstick to go for a more natural look.
God, where were they anyway? This was like, the lowest of low.
Suddenly Alvin's face appeared in her window, making her gasp. He held up a single brass key. "Let's go."
Brittany groaned as she slid out of the car, her muscles feeling tight as she stretched her legs out in front of her.
"Where are we anyway?" she asked. "Like... Arizona or something?"
"Northern California, I think," Alvin said, unloading a suitcase from the trunk.
Brittany frowned. "You mean we've been driving all day and all night at illegal speeds, and we're still in the same state?"
"Well—"
"And why the hell would you drive north?" Brittany went on, throwing her hands up in frustration. "Why wouldn't you go west?"
"What do I look like, Lois and Clark?" Alvin snapped. "I don't have a fucking compass!"
"Louis and Clark," Brittany corrected. She hated history, but even she knew that. "And there are plenty of signs on the road to tell you where you're going!"
"Well then maybe you should have said something!" He shouted, taking a step closer.
"I SHOULDN'T HAVE HAD TO!" Brittany stepped closer as well. "You're the one who is supposed to know where we're going!"
"I NEVER SAID THAT!"
"WELL YOU MADE IT SEEM THAT WAY!"
"DID NOT!" He sounded like a kindergartener. "I TOLD YOU THAT I WAS JUST GOING TO GO ANYWHERE!"
"HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO—"
"Hey, keep it down over there!" A voice shouted. Alvin and Brittany turned to see the heavily made up woman that Brittany had seen earlier. She was leaning over the driver's window of a silver car. "Some of us are trying to work here!"
Well that answered Brittany's hooker question.
"You were the one who wanted to come on this trip," Alvin reminded her. "This is my thing. You're just along for the ride for some reason. So you can't tell me what to do."
Brittany put her hands on her hips. "I'm not telling you what to do! I think it's stupid that we just drove north of all directions. What the hell is north?"
"Well, believe it or not," Alvin said, pushing past her, "I don't give a fuck what you think."
"Same here!" Brittany snapped. She yanked her suitcase and backpack out of the car and closed the door with a slam before following Alvin to a scuffed door with a crooked number 5 nailed to it.
Alvin unlocked it and turned on the dim lamp sitting on a nightstand. They were hit with smells of alcohol and mold.
"So much for getting a good room," Brittany muttered, taking in the shaggy green carpet and stained walls.
"All the rooms look like this," Alvin replied. He dropped his bag to the floor. "Look, I'm not exactly thrilled about staying in this dump either, but we have to save our money."
"Yeah, well I…" she trailed off. She had been so focused on the disgustingness of the room that she hadn't noticed the most disturbing detail of all until that moment. "Uh… Alvin?"
"What?"
She was trying so hard not to explode. "Why is there only one bed?"
"Obvious reasons," Alvin shrugged.
"EW!" Brittany screeched. "OH MY GOD!"
"What? No!" Alvin sighed. "Are you kidding? I got it because it was cheaper. Duh." He shut the door and turned on the TV. "God, Brittany. Get your mind out of the gutter, will ya?"
"I liked you better when you spent money like an NBA wife," Brittany told him.
"I liked you better when you weren't talking," Alvin said without missing a beat.
"HA!" Brittany let out a humorless laugh. "No you didn't! You hate silence."
"I make exceptions for you," he said in a sugary sweet voice. He pressed the buttons on the television with no response. "Figures that the stupid TV doesn't work."
Brittany opened her suitcase and pulled out the first set of pajamas she could find. "I'm going to take a shower," she announced.
Alvin ignored her, continuing to fiddle with the TV. Brittany stepped into the tiny bathroom with a huff.
She hated this. She hated be dirty. She hated Alvin. She hated this closet-sized bathroom that smelled like pee. She hated the stained yellow shower curtain and the unflattering single florescent light. She hated that the stupid door wouldn't lock. She hated that…
"AHHHH!" Brittany stumbled backwards and tripped over the brown rug, landing hard on her butt.
The door opened and Alvin rushed in.
"What's wrong?" Alvin asked, looking around.
Brittany whimpered and scooted further away from the tub. Alvin looked harder, spotting the big, ugly, black spider crawling up the curtain. Brittany shivered. It was beyond gross.
Alvin swore under his breath, grabbed a wad of toilet paper, smashed the spider, tossed it in the metal trash can, and left the room without looking at her or saying a word.
Brittany instantly hated herself for the meltdown. The last thing she wanted was to look pathetic in front of Alvin. She had spent too much time trying to prove that she could handle herself on this trip.
However, she spent most of her cold shower trying not to break out in tears. Self-doubt was not her thing, but she was seriously wondering if she could handle this stupid road trip thing after all. She was already fed up with everything, and it had been less than 24 hours. Maybe she should find a Greyhound bus and go home.
No, she thought when she turned off the water. She stepped out of the tub and wiped the fog off the mirror. "You are Brittany Miller," she whispered to her reflection, "and you can do anything."
She got dressed (unfortunately, thanks to the nasty room, she didn't feel that much cleaner) and stepped into the main room. Alvin was writing something on a napkin. Next to him were a pile of brochures he must have picked up from the motel lobby when she was in the bathroom.
Brittany sat on the very edge of the bed, making the old mattress creak. "Aren't you going to shower?" she asked him. She wasn't close enough to smell him, but he had to be feeling gross by now.
Alvin picked up another brochure and wrote something else down. "Obviously I'm going to take a shower," Alvin told her. "I'm just not doing it here."
She frowned. "Where else are you planning on doing it then?"
"I don't know," Alvin said without looking up. "Just not here. You've seen that bathroom. There's got to be somewhere better."
"You just told me that all the other rooms look like ours," Brittany reminded him. He was such a dumbass.
Alvin shrugged. "I don't know about the bathrooms though. There's gotta be somewhere better, and thanks to my connections at the front desk, I'm sure I'll find something."
Brittany's icy blue eyes narrowed. "Connections?"
"They just changed shifts and the front desk, and the girl working it now loves me," he said with a cocky grin. "I mean, come on, I'm Alvin Seville."
Brittany rolled her eyes.
"Oh come on, Brittany." He stopped writing and gave her that smile that most girls found charming. "I know you love me. You've even said so."
Brittany gaped at him. "Excuse me? I don't think so."
"Sure you have," Alvin insisted. "Remember when you were recording Stand by Your Man with Tammy Wynette? You told her that you loved me."
"Well that was a very long time ago," Brittany said, cringing at the memory. Why had she said that? "And I was acting."
"Right." Alvin pushed the brochures to the side, grabbed some clothes from his bag, and headed for the door. "I'm gonna go find that nicer bathroom now."
"Yeah, you do that," Brittany said as Alvin closed the door, leaving her alone in the small, dark room. She stared at the small bed and let out a dramatic sigh. She needed to sleep, but how was she supposed to do that when she was going to be inches away from Alvin? And for all she knew, the last person who slept on this bed was a serial killer or something.
Brittany stood up and stretched. She noticed that Alvin had left his bag open. She noticed something red and rectangular peeking out from the clothes on top of it. She reached down and picked up a red leather journal.
ALVIN'S LYRICS was written on a piece of masking tape. KEEP OUT! was added as well.
Brittany sat on the bed again and stared at the journal. She didn't know Alvin wrote his own songs.
They probably sucked. It wasn't like Alvin was the sharpest tool in the shed.
Brittany opened the first page.
I SAID KEEP OUT! Alvin had scribbled.
She rolled her eyes and turned to the next page.
SERIOUSLY, KEEP OUT!
She turned the page again.
ARE YOU KIDDING? YOU'RE STILL READING? GO AWAY!
"Ugh!" Brittany shoved the notebook back into Alvin's bag. She could have easily kept skipping pages, but a huge wave of exhaustion hit her and she realized that she didn't care about Alvin's stupid lyrics anymore. She just wanted to sleep.
Trying very hard not to think about the last time the sheets were washed, Brittany climbed under the covers and shut her eyes.
The next the she knew, the door was being slammed. She sat up, her heart beating fast.
Alvin strutted in the room wearing plaid pajama pants and a white t-shirt, his hair damp. He was whistling as he put his dirty clothes in his bag and climbed into the bed next to Brittany.
Brittany just stared. What the hell was going on?
"Where did you shower?" she asked.
"Jen hooked me up with the shower in room 9," Alvin casually explained. "The water gets hot in no time and it's the cleanest bathroom in the building. Oh, and there aren't any spiders either," he added with a smug grin before turning off the lamp by his side of the bed. The orange glow from street lamps shined through the dusty windows.
God, she hated him. She hated him so much. If she didn't feel like she was going to pass out, she would have yelled at him just for being the obnoxious jerk he was.
Brittany laid down and scooted as far away from Alvin as possible.
"If you even think about touching me, I'm going to kill you," Brittany warned.
"Don't flatter yourself," Alvin said with a laugh. "If I'd be touching anyone right now, it'd be Jen at the front desk, not you."
"Yeah, I'm sure the girl who works the night shift at this disgusting motel is quite a catch."
"Better looking than you," Alvin yawned.
"I highly doubt that," Brittany said as she closed her eyes.
If Alvin said anything back, she didn't hear him. Choosing to believe that she got the last word in on their final argument of the day, Brittany fell asleep.
Hope you liked it! Please review!