VI.
At 5:30, Katherine stopped trying to sleep and walked to a truck stop a little ways down the road from the motel. She drank coffee and read the paper at leisure before heading back to the room with a few cups of coffee to go. Elijah was already standing next to the car with his luggage when she arrived, and she handed him the keys and the coffee cups by way of greeting and headed into her room to grab her things. She let him finish loading the car as she went to check them out and then she returned to find him standing on the driver's side.
"No," she said, holding out her hand for the keys. "I'm driving."
"You drove all day yesterday," he said. "It's my turn."
"No way," Katherine said, grabbing the keys out of his hand and clutching them to her chest. "My car. My rules. Only I drive."
"You drive like a maniac," he said.
"Insulting my driving—which is awesome, by the way—will not convince me to let you drive."
"Fine." Elijah let out a passive-aggressive sigh as he rolled his eyes and then headed to the other side of the car. "Just don't come crying to me when you kill yourself."
"Well, I'll be dead in that case, won't I?"
She waited until he got in the car and put on his seat belt before she stepped on the gas, racing out of the parking lot with squealing tires as he held on tightly to the handle above the door, glaring at her in disapproval, much to her delight.
When she reached the interstate, she switched on the stereo, and the not-so-melodic strains of Limp Bizkit's "Nookie" filled the car. She opened her mouth to sing along when the music abruptly stopped.
"Hey," she growled, pouting as she gave Elijah a sidelong pout. "I was listening to that."
"Well, it's horrific," Elijah said. "If we're going to be stuck together for the next few days, I suggest we listen to something we both like."
"Fine," Katherine said, motioning towards her iPod. "Knock yourself out. I have literally thousands of songs on there."
"We probably only require a few hundred." Elijah reached over, worked the iPod out of the cradle, and then started to thumb his way through her music.
"ABBA?" he said incredulously. "The Bee Gees?"
"So?" Katherine said, her tone somewhat defensive. "The seventies were my decade. Bell bottoms. Studio 54. Dirty hippies who were so high they had no idea you'd tapped a vein."
"The Vietnam War," Elijah said. "Watergate. Kent State."
Katherine sighed. "You always have to see the negative in everything," she said. "Where were you in the seventies?"
Elijah shrugged. "I was in Boston for most of the decade. I taught history at Harvard."
Katherine glanced over at Elijah, who was still perusing her music collection like he was memorizing it. "Stefan was also at Harvard in the seventies."
"Yes, I know," Elijah said with an absent frown. "I knew him briefly." He let out an exasperated sigh. "Please tell me you have Miles Davis."
"No, but there's some Thelonious Monk and Charles Mingus," she said. "And you knew Stefan? He never mentioned that."
Elijah shrugged as he leaned over and put the iPod back in the holder. "He was compelled to forget, I believe."
You believe? she wondered, but she didn't say it out loud.
"I can just picture what you looked like in the seventies," she said with a mischievous grin. "With long sideburns and a porn 'stache."
Elijah turned to her with a frown.
"I had very well-groomed facial hair," he said. "I always strive to look and dress impeccably, no matter what fashion foibles are à la mode."
"I knew it!" she crowed. "I'll bet you used to wear turtlenecks under your sports jacket, too."
Elijah opened his mouth to say something and then shook his head. "Shut up," he said. "Besides, you're one to talk. You just admitted to liking bell bottoms."
Katherine laughed. "Touché," she said, unaware of his surprised glance.
With that, they settled into a comfortable silence.
oOoOo
By nightfall, they'd reached western North Dakota. After driving along empty roads for what seemed forever, they finally found a town with a single run-down motel on the city limits, far from the interstate or any other major highways. Katherine would rather have returned to I94 and driven through the night to the next city, but Elijah insisted on stopping, of course, saying he needed to "decompress," which Katherine interpreted as "no-Katherine time." For some reason, the thought annoyed her to no end, which made her even more prickly than usual with him. As a result, their tempers were frayed by the time they stopped.
As she unloaded the car, taking the opportunity to slip a couple of blood bags into her duffel bag, Elijah went to rent their rooms. He returned just as she finished stacking their bags on the sidewalk, and she looked up at him expectantly. He was twirling a key around his finger and looked almost… apprehensive.
"What's wrong?" she asked. She grabbed for the key, but he moved his hand away, holding it out of her reach.
"We have to share a room," he said, his words fast and clipped.
She stared at him for a moment. "You mean… you and me?" she asked.
Elijah rolled his eyes. "Who else," he said. He bent to pick up the bags, including hers. "The clerk said no other rooms are available."
Katherine looked around the parking lot, empty except for her SUV and an old Chevy Malibu parked near the front office, presumably belonging to the clerk.
"Really?" she said. "Huh. You're a vampire, remember? Why didn't you just compel him to give us two rooms?"
Elijah gave her a disapproving look. "Not every problem needs to be solved by compulsion, Katerina," he said irritably. "Of course, if you don't believe me, you can go take care of the matter yourself. In the meantime, I am going to get settled in the room."
He headed over to one of the doors. Katherine hesitated for a moment, looking back at the front office for a moment before following him with a shrug.
The room was rundown and smelled of stale cigarette smoke, but it was clean, and the linens on the bed—singular—were old, but freshly washed.
"You can have the bed," Elijah said as he set down his suitcase. "I'll take the floor."
"Oh, please," Katherine said, a mocking tone entering her voice. "We're both adults here. I'm not afraid of sleeping in the same bed, but if you are, I understand that completely." She gave him a sweet, but false smile as she slunk past him and threw herself onto the bed.
Elijah scowled. "Of course I'm not afraid of you," he said heatedly. "I have no problem sleeping on the bed with you. I was merely attempting to be a gentlemen."
"Thanks," Katherine said, raising her chin. "For thinking of my virtue. But, this is the twenty-first century, and I don't have a problem with sleeping with you either." She froze when she realized what she'd just said. "I mean, on the bed. Sleeping with you on the bed. Platonically."
"I understood what you meant," Elijah said, his face relaxing into a smile. "Don't worry, sleeping with you is the furthest thing from my mind."
As he set his suitcase on the desk and started to look through it, Katherine felt a sharp jab of disappointment at his words, which was ridiculous. Of course, she didn't want to sleep with Elijah either, no matter what her subconscious thought of the matter. Of course, he wasn't terrible to look at—not as pretty as Damon or even Stefan, but handsome. She had no doubt that he'd be fantastic in bed at his age and experience or that she'd have much trouble seducing him if she set her mind to it. Which of course she wouldn't. Not ever.
"Oh, good," she said.
She considered adding something more, something challenging, flirtatious, but decided against it. She was feeling oddly vulnerable that evening and didn't want to deal with his inevitable rejection, even if Elijah didn't take an innuendo-filled comment seriously. Maybe because he wouldn't take it seriously.
"I'm going to get cleaned up," he said, gathering a few things in his arms. He turned back and gave her a somewhat scolding look. "And please take your shoes off the bed."
Katherine rolled her eyes, but complied, hanging her boots off the bed as she grabbed the TV remote from the nightstand, switching it on as he disappeared into the bathroom.
A few minutes later, he emerged, a towel around his neck, his hair slightly damp and scraggly around his face, and her heart lurched in her chest. He'd removed his jacket and tie and rolled up his sleeves. He looked almost casual, but only almost. Something was missing.
"So," she said, giving him a once-over and then wagging her brows. "Where are the jeans?"
Elijah frowned. "In my luggage," he said. "Where else would they be?"
Katherine grinned. "Oh, you don't have to be formal on my account," she said. "I won't tell anyone. Besides, I get the feeling I'd like improper Elijah."
Elijah rolled his eyes and tossed the towel over the back of the desk chair.
"And you don't like proper Elijah?" he asked as he opened his toiletries kit and started to rummage in it.
Katherine looked at him sharply. He had an odd tone, and she wasn't sure what to make of it. She had a feeling that she was missing something, something important.
"Sure, I could probably like him," she said quietly. "I just don't think he likes me."
Elijah looked up and met her eyes, staring at her with an unfathomable look, and her heart started pounding.
"He'd like you a lot better if you took your boots off the bed," he said finally.
And the moment was gone. Katherine sighed and rolled off the bed.
"Fine," she said. "I'm going to go take a walk. Don't wreck the place while I'm gone."
Elijah looked like he wanted to say something to her, but she was already out the door.
oOoOo
She returned an hour later after having wandered around trying in vain to find a cell signal, desperate to bitch to Lucy about how horrible and annoying Elijah was being. By the time she reached the door, however, she realized the walk had calmed her, as well.
She entered the room and froze in the doorway, smiling in spite of her annoyance. Elijah had combed his hair back into a semblance of perfection, and he'd changed into black silk pajamas. With any other man, she would have thought he was trying to seduce her, but she had a feeling that Elijah always went to bed that way.
"No cell reception," she said by way of greeting.
"I know," he said. "I tried, too." He gave her a perceptive look. "Are you all right?"
Katherine nodded.
"Yeah," she said. "I'm good." She went over to the chair where she'd thrown her duffel bag and pulled out her sleeping things and her toiletries bag and then went into the bathroom to get ready for bed.
When she emerged, he was already lying in bed. He turned off the television and turned to look at her, his brows rising in surprise.
"The Chicago Bears?" he asked, gesturing towards her t-shirt. "Are you a fan?"
"Of course," Katherine said as she crawled into the bed next to him and pulled the covers over her. "I've had season tickets for decades. I never miss a game—oh, wait, except for that one season I was locked in a tomb."
"I'm sorry," Elijah said, turning his head to look at her. "Knowing I made you miss a few Bears games fills me with an almost unbearable guilt."
"Ha, ha," she said. "Very punny."
He looked like he wanted to say more, but then he turned away.
"Good night, Katherine," he said quietly.
"Night," she murmured. Before she knew it, she'd slipped into a deep sleep.