AN:
1) Started writing this during an overnight layover in an airport on my way home for the holidays. Been up for 33 of the last 36 hours (and took a final exam during that period) so we shall see where this goes! (Edit: I've since slept and pulled out an A- on the final, so we are absolutely balling.)
2) I also just ate Popeyes (but without ending up in a dramatic kiss while on the run from the government. sigh.)
3) December 2024 was the best month ever for I Spy, numbers-wise. Thank you to everyone who has given my story a chance! I love you like Ella loves learning languages.
4) Happy new years, everybody! Please follow my Tumblr flowersforzoe11 for bonus I Spy content! Specifically, I have made an "I Spy Alex Rider" tag which contains everything from road trip maps to a fancast I did for a few of our fave OCs!
5) Chapter-specific warning: this one has a bit more "heat" than past chapters (let's say 2.5/5, which will be the highest in this fic). Nothing crazy or explicit in the slightest.
Chapter 35: Unresolved Tension
Hour 14
Lock Haven, Pennsylvania
"I like Antonio," Alex finally breaks the car's silence. I'm back in the driver's seat. After spending a few minutes navigating out of Lock Haven, we're back on US-220 for the long haul. We had been eating packages of cinnamon roll Pop-Tarts as a quasi-breakfast before he began speaking.
"I told you," I say, tapping my fingertips against the steering wheel.
"Yuri is still my favorite friend of yours I've met so far."
"Yuri?" I risk a look over at him. The shower at Antonio's place did him a world of good. His hair is noticeably less greasy and stringy, and it has a bit more volume now.
"Well, I think you can understand why I wasn't fond of Tai or Derek. The only interactions I've had with Oliver were interrogative. Fenna is kind of insane. Noa is cool, for sure, but I like Yuri the best. He's fun and really kind. And those Pirozhki were delicious. I've been thinking about them constantly since the other night."
I flinch. "Don't talk about them like that. You hardly even know them."
"You're really protective of them all," Alex notes. I ignore him and focus on the road.
"It's going to be a long car ride if you ignore me," he says flippantly. I don't care, I don't care, I don't care, I don't care, I don't care, Kurt Cobain's voice rings out in my head.
He's silent for another second before he tries one last question. "Who are Roee and Oren?"
I'm so shocked I swerve the car. How could he possibly know Roee and Oren?
"Christ, Ella, what is your problem?!" he exclaims.
I pull into the shoulder and park the car on the right side of the road. "How do you know those names?" My voice is icy.
"I asked you a question first."
"You don't get to insult my friends and then bring those names up."
"Why are you being so cagey?"
I hate the 'C-word.' "Alex," I start but get interrupted by a knock on the car window. I see fear flash through Alex's eyes before I turn around.
There's a police officer waiting outside of our window. Shit, shit, shit.
Not knowing what else to do, I roll down the window. "Hello, Officer," I croak.
"Hello, Miss," he replies, "Are you folks alright?"
"We're great," I say curtly.
"I saw you swerve and then pull over. Just wanted to make sure everything was okay." It takes everything in me to not roll my eyes.
"Sorry about that, Officer," I search for a lie, "There was a squirrel on the road and I swerved to avoid it. I'm a vegetarian and could never do that to an animal. Then, I pulled over because my hands were shaking too much to keep driving, and my boyfriend was going to take the wheel. That poor little squirrel," I say, scrunching up my face and willing a single tear to fall down my left cheek.
He nods slowly.
"Beckett, Honey," I address Alex, "I think we should switch seats now." Alex nods and starts getting out of the car.
I unbuckle and open my door too. Once I'm finally standing on the side of the road, I get a good look at the officer. He's short, maybe only 5'7, and appears to be balding young. I notice him staring intently at my face and I'm immediately uncomfortable.
We're standing on the shoulder of a two-lane highway that stretches over a river I don't know the name of. There's another bridge to our left, maybe ten feet from us, with a second two-lane highway going the opposite direction. To the right of the car is the other lane, and the road overlooks the river on both sides.
"What did you say your name was, again?" he asks me, though I know I never said my name.
"Megan Wilson," I reply, "This is my car, and we're going to get going now."
The officer grabs my arm as I try to side-step to the passenger side. "Hey!" I exclaim.
"Don't touch her," Alex growls at the officer. He's only a few feet away from us.
He lets go of me and puts his hands up. "Chill out, Man, I'm just talking to her."
"Would you grab the hand of a man who you are 'just talking' to?" Alex challenges him, and I accidentally fall in love a little bit. The officer balks. "That's what I thought. We're going to be going now."
"I'll need to see her license and registration first."
"You didn't even pull us over," I protest, "We were about to switch drivers because I was too affected by that squirrel to keep my mind on the road. That's not a crime! That's knowing my limitations. Plus, there are barely any other cars on the road, so we aren't in anybody's way."
"License and registration," he repeats, clicking a button on a little box on the outside of his uniform. Holy shit, body cam, my mind races.
I pull an ID out from the zip pocket of my running shorts. "Maya Reed?" he reads off of the card, "I thought you said your name was Megan Wilson," he eyes me suspiciously.
I must have pulled the wrong ID out of my pocket. I don't know if I have ever fucked up this badly in my life.
"But," he continues, "I don't think you're either of those people."
I open my mouth but nothing comes out. He steps ever closer to me, his hand reaching for something. I gulp as he pulls out a phone. "I think that you're that missing girl."
"I'm not missing," I put on my best confused face as I look between the officer and Alex. "My boyfriend and I are students at Lock Haven. We were just driving to get breakfast together. There's a little diner up the road a ways," The officer is on his phone so I continue running my mouth, "I told my roommate where I was going. Stupid Ava doesn't remember anything." I hate myself for using my own sister's name, but my mind stalled and I needed a female name.
"See, I think you're lying," he says, flipping his phone screen towards me, "We were told to look out for this girl and you match the description perfectly. Light brown hair. Green eyes. Even that gnarly scar on your face matches."
"It's not gnarly," I whisper, bringing my right hand up to my cheek quickly to cover it.
"Even if I'm wrong, it's a ten-thousand-dollar reward if I bring her in, so you'll be coming with me."
"Ten thousand dollars?" I repeat. That's all my dad thinks I'm worth?
"That's right. And that kind of money will go a long way around here, so you'll be coming with me."
My heart races. There aren't very many other cars on the road, but there's enough to be witnesses. I look over at Alex.
"You can't arrest me without a cause." Suddenly, my knowledge of the US legal system feels really limited. I'm really just throwing darts to see what sticks.
"Yeah, she pleads the 5th," Alex finally speaks up.
"Not what that means," I say through gritted teeth, "Sorry, he didn't pay attention in civics."
"Both of you are going to get into my car right now," the officer grabs my hand again and leads me toward the car.
From the corner of my eye, I see Alex wink in my direction. "Distract him," he mouths. I don't know what he's planning, so I take matters into my own hands and shove two fingers down my throat until I gag.
I push past the discomfort, ignore my eyes tearing up, and do it again. I turn around, facing the officer, and make sure to completely paint his uniform and body cam with a wave of vomit. I mentally thank the Pop-Tarts corporation, because the regurgitated cinnamon flavor currently burning the back of my throat is not the worst.
"I'm so sorry," I choke out, wiping my face with my hands, "I vomit when I'm anxious. I'm freaking out because I don't know what you want from me," I pull the tears back out and put on an Emmy-worthy performance for Officer Jackass.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" He screams, covered in cinnamon-scented vomit. He pushes me against the hood of the car, hard. My head slams against metal and I cry out in pain.
He comes over and kicks my shin, clumps of vomit spraying off of his clothing and back onto me. He's able to get another kick in before I lift my throbbing head up from the hood of the car and land my first blow. My forehead collides with his nose adding blood to the mess of bodily fluids. While he's reeling backward, I make a grab for the front of his uniform and my fingers wrap around something hard. I pull on the front of his uniform and give him a healthy punch to the gut at the same time.
My vision is blurred with a mix of tears, blood, and vomit, so I hear Alex before I see him. He hesitates for a second before making his move. Using the ballistics helmet, he hits the officer over the head, knocking him off of me. The officer lies on the ground, writhing in pain, and Alex offers his hand to help me up off the car hood.
"Sorry about the smell," I mumble, letting him.
"Is your head okay?"
"It will be."
He pulls me up so we're standing above the officer. Alex straps the ballistics helmet under my chin, pats the top of my now-covered head, and puts himself between the officer and me. "I don't know who you think we are, but I think it's best you keep quiet about all of this," he says.
The officer manages to sit up, blood streaming out of his nose. "And why would I listen to you?" he asks, reaching towards his side.
"Doesn't seem like you're in much of a position to be negotiating anything," Alex shrugs.
"I am a United States police officer," he says, growing angrier, "I can have you two thrown in jail for the rest of your lives."
"I sincerely doubt that," I smirk. The officer finally manages to pull out his gun from his holster. His hands are shaking as he points it at me.
"Woah, calm down. There's no need to compensate for anything by pointing your gun at my girl," Alex says cooly.
"Are you trying to get shot?" the officer challenges, turning the gun at Alex.
"I have the same question," I mumble.
My brain scrambles because I have committed a classic blunder: bringing a knife to a gunfight. There's a pocket knife stored in my waistband and I slip it into my hand, trying to work out how to use it. The officer is still pointing his gun at Alex, so I unfold the knife and take a step backward.
"Step away, or I'll shoot you," his voice quivers. The officer is pathetic. He has nothing on Alex's steadiness.
"I don't think you will," Alex replies casually, clearly having a death wish.
The officer moves to pull the trigger and I take my chance. I throw my knife like a dart. It flies a few feet before landing in his right cheekbone, cutting through the skin.
Not one second later, a gunshot rings out.
The officer cries out as a bullet hits his wrist, forcing the gun out of his hands. Alex is standing over him, 3D-printed gun in hand.
Alex kicks the gun towards me, out of the officer's reach. "For you, Dear, I never did get you that anniversary gift." I reach down to pick up the officer's gun, thankful that no one will see how hard I'm currently blushing. Damn, my rosy complexion.
Once I get up, I see that Alex has backed the guy up towards the railing of the highway. The siding is low and only reaches the officer's knees. The fact that there are no cars on our bridge is astonishing. He pulls my knife out of the guy's face, twisting as he removes it. "That will show you a gnarly scar," he declares, pocketing my knife.
He turns toward me and beckons me over. I step across the other lane of the road again thanking every god there's no traffic.
"Do you still think she's some mysterious missing girl?" Alex challenges, gesturing at me. The officer nods. "Alright then," he says, his British accent slipping through the cracks, "Enjoy your swim." Alex pushes him off of the highway and into the river 20 feet below. He puts his arm around my waist as we watch the officer flail before smacking against the surface of the water.
He starts counting once the officer plunges under and makes it to six before he comes up to the surface choking. "Seems like he's gone off the deep end," Alex shrugs, turning back towards the car.
"We need to get the hell out of here," I exclaim. I forget that Alex can be insane sometimes.
"You're changing first," he shakes his head, glancing up and down my body. My shirt is covered in streaks of my own vomit and the officer's bloodstains.
I walk to the driver's side of the car and pull my backpack out of the backseat. The car door offers me a bit of coverage, but I really don't need the entire world to see me changing right now.
"Alex, stand with your back to me, between the car and the door." He obliges and I quickly strip out of my t-shirt and the ballistics helmet. Mercifully, my shorts were spared. I rinse my body off with a couple bottles of water, getting the remainder of the vomit and blood off of my arms and neck.
I have to lose the bra, unfortunately, as my chest suffered a direct hit of puke. I pull out my last clean shirt: a cream-colored CCR shirt from my Dad's Dad. It features the members of the band with the words "Creedence Clearwater Revival" around them in a circle. The shirt is a bit too on-brand, so I slip my Nationals hoodie back on top of it and call it good enough. I tap on Alex's shoulder and he turns back around. "You alright?"
"Yeah," I nod, "Get in the driver's seat and I'll be right there."
He obliges, and I take a few steps over to the edge of the road. The officer is about 20 feet downstream, and I unceremoniously toss my old clothes into the river after him.
Back in the car, Alex hands me that little pack of breath strips I had purchased at Sheetz the night before. I place three of them across my tongue and sink into the passenger seat.
"You still smell like vomit," he notes and starts driving.
"You're welcome for the distraction," I reply, putting in a pair of blue contacts. Up until the officer mentioned my eye color, I did not realize they were my natural green.
"It was grossly effective," he admits.
"That is the Ella Cornell tagline," I muse and he laughs.
"We should drive quickly," I continue after a pause, "I'm not sure how much time we have before that officer is reported missing, but we need to cross state lines as soon as we can."
"I imagine the water damaged his radio," Alex considers. I take a second to hide the stolen gun and ballistics helmet under my seat.
"I have a secret," I tell him.
"Hm?"
I pull the officer's body cam out of my pocket. I had rinsed it with water earlier so it no longer smelled. "Now there's no evidence," I grin.
"Great work, Cornell," he pats my shoulder.
"I'm still not sure if we should throw this in the river or keep it just in case."
"Hide it," Alex suggests, "If it becomes a liability then we'll ditch it." I stash it in the glove compartment.
We're silent for another moment. "Turn left onto 287," I instruct, "This road will take us north up towards New York starting now." Alex makes the turn and suddenly we leave the world of small highways and find ourselves on a one-lane backroad. There are a few tiny country houses up ahead, but it's highly unlikely any of them have cameras, which is good news for us.
"How long are we on this road?"
"Probably 20 miles," I say, measuring the line with my fingers, "Just over 30 kilometers. We'll be on 184 for a few miles after that. Then we're taking US-15 nearly the rest of the way to New York. That'll be another hour and change, I think." Alex nods.
"So," he starts, and I already hate where this conversation is headed, "We have a lot of hours in the car ahead of us. I'd prefer we actually talk about things instead of sitting in silence. We both slept last night and we ate this morning–well, your breakfast ended up on the side of the road, I guess–but we have no need to stop anytime soon."
"How do you know who Roee and Oren are?" I'm not letting this one go.
Alex sighs. "Full transparency, I asked Antonio if he had met any of your other friends, and he said those names along with Noa's. They're her brothers?"
"Yeah," I suck in some air. The minty strips do well at concealing the taste of vomit and I no longer fear poisoning the car with my breath.
"You're really protective of your friends."
"They're all I've got," I respond.
"I get that," Alex nods, looking straight ahead, "My friends are all I've got too." I stay quiet waiting for him to keep going. "I told you my parents died when I was a baby. I'm an only child so it's always just been me. I lived with Ian, my dad's brother, until I was fourteen and he died."
"How does Jack fit in, again? You aren't related, are you?"
"No," he shakes his head, "Ian hired her when I was seven to look after me. She was a university student then, and I guess Ian paid well. She's from DC just like you."
"I didn't know that," I smile a little.
"Yeah. She's pretty much been the only constant in my life…ever. Ian was gone all the time–I'm sure you've guessed that both he and my dad were spies–but I always had Jack."
I nod, not trusting myself to speak. Alex still doesn't know anything about Piper, and now is not the time for that.
"I've told you about my friend Sabina," he continues, "She's actually at Uni in Chicago. My best mate is a lad named Tom. I haven't seen him in over a year," his eyes darken, "The moment he turned 18, he dropped out of school and moved to Italy with his older brother. Their home life was always bad and he got out as soon as he could."
"I can relate to that," I say quietly.
"Yeah," Alex replies slowly, "I guess you can."
"I was homeschooled, so I couldn't really drop out of anything, but I knew I had to get out for college. I applied to a couple schools in America, as well as one in Israel, three in the Netherlands, and of course Oxford."
"If your family is in the Netherlands, and Noa is in Israel, then why'd you pick Oxford?"
"I almost didn't," I confess, "But in the end, I wanted somewhere that was just mine. I needed a fresh start."
"I'm glad you did," he says way too sincerely.
I clear my throat. "So, Sabina is in Chicago. Tom is in Italy. Jack has a new boyfriend and is barely around." Alex flinches a little. It's barely perceptible, but I've gotten good at picking up on his tells. "I can imagine that's really hard."
"Fuck, Ella, I just feel like I'm no longer anybody's Number 1," the words fall out, "I will love Tom and Sabina to my dying breath, but they both have their own lives now. I'm happy for them, but I don't like feeling as though everyone in my life has moved on while I'm stuck in the past. Hell, I still sleep in my childhood bed with the same sheets I've had since I was eleven. Even Jack is moving on," he chokes out, "I selfishly thought she would always stay with me after everything we've been through, but she's barely ever home anymore. She's always out with that guy."
"And that's why I 'have everything,'" I say softly, referencing our very tense conversation at the hotel yesterday.
"I didn't mean that you don't have problems," he clarifies, "It just feels like you're worlds ahead of me in the friends department."
"I know how you feel," I confess, unable to stop the words from falling out, "My 'Number 1' lives on another continent. I wish Noa and I could live together, but she's two months into a two-year-long conscription. And then there's college afterwards, and I imagine she'll stay in Israel for that too. My younger brother and I used to be that close, but now he's way closer to my older sister, and I feel like the dynamics have completely shifted since I left a year ago. I hate that I can't have both independence and meaningful relationships with my siblings anymore," I shake my head, feeling tears well up in my eyes.
"Anyway," I clear my throat, "I understand what you're saying."
"Could you possibly see where I'm coming from? This beautiful girl who is just like me forces herself into my life. How could I not fall for you, Ella? You represent this life I want so badly. Being a spy is depressing. It's friendless, secretive, and a little empty, but you and your friends have found a way to bring joy into it. God, I want that." I can see him tearing up again, but I'm not going to address it.
"I see where you're coming from," I start, unsure of where this sentence is going, "But can't you see how much pressure that puts on me? I'm more than just a symbol. Alex, I really care about you, but I'm a mess. I'm not even a year out of rehab. I'm still adjusting to university–I haven't been to a real school since I was six. It's really difficult to meet people at Oxford when I have to lie about everything. My closest friends geographically live in London part-time, and the rest are thousands of miles away. I'm across the ocean from my family with whom I have an incredibly complicated relationship. I have little direction in my life and have no idea how to build a future that doesn't involve selling my soul to an intelligence agency. All of my friends treat me like a basket case because they think one bad thing will send me down a spiral. And I'm not entirely sure they're wrong about that. I want you to have everything you've ever dreamed of, but I cannot be the stabilizing force that you need. I'm doing everything I can right now to keep my head above water and I cannot in good conscience take on any more weight." We're both crying now but Alex keeps driving.
"Turn left up here," I sniffle and he follows the direction.
"I'll wait for you," Alex says finally.
"Excuse me?" I finally look at his red, tear-streaked face. His eyes are covered with light green contacts and I find myself missing the brown.
"You take all the time you need to figure everything out, and I'll be waiting for you."
My heart skips a beat. "Alex, no, you're not going to do that. That's not fair to either of us."
"I want to. Ella, you're worth the wait," we lock eyes, and it's the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me, but I can't let him do this.
I bury my face in the sleeves of my hoodie, trying to steady my breathing. The tears are flowing harder than ever.
I choke back uncontrollable sobs. The tears have pooled down on my chin, creating a disgusting soggy sensation, but I still can't seem to calm down. Nothing is okay, and there is no way to salvage any of this.
I feel the car stop driving and see that Alex is parked in a pull-off at the side of the road. At least it isn't a shoulder, so we probably won't get pulled over for this. I hate that we've stopped, but there's a storm brewing inside of my head and I don't know when the clouds will lift.
Alex unbuckles his seatbelt and wraps his arms around me, hugging me tight. He doesn't even seem to care that I still probably smell like vomit and my tears and snot are getting everywhere. He doesn't even mind.
That realization makes me cry harder, causing my entire chest to convulse with each sob. Alex pats my back and pulls me in even closer.
"There, there," he says simply.
As is a common theme in my life lately, he holds me for another several minutes until I finally am able to steady my breathing and control the waterfall of tears.
He hands me a crumpled-up Popeye's napkin and I blow my nose. I toss the tissue containing half my body weight in mucus into an old plastic bag and slump back in my seat.
"You can't wait around for me, Alex. You deserve someone who loves you right now."
"You don't love me?" he challenges.
"We don't know each other," I say lamely.
"I've told you that I know enough. And I want to know everything about you. I want to meet your friends, learn about your family, and figure out how the hell you're so good at learning languages. I want to be a part of the Ella Cornell Extended Universe."
I'm unable to stop the passage of time, or the flow of my tears, or the far-reaching influence of the American CIA, or a whole bunch of other stuff.
"You're already a part of the ECEU," I say through sniveling tears, "A very important part that I couldn't bear to lose. But I refuse both to commit to a relationship that I know I'll blow up in a matter of weeks and to hold you hostage for potentially years while I figure myself out. I'm immature and selfish, but not enough to bring you down with me."
Alex pauses and finally speaks. "Do you really think our friendship will survive mutual romantic feelings?"
I take a deep breath and the words on the tip of my tongue taste acidic. I place three more breath strips on my tongue to buy myself a moment before I have to speak them.
"My feelings aren't romantic." Alex looks surprised but stays quiet. "I can't pretend that I don't find you attractive–I mean, look at you," my breath gets caught in my throat as I glance down at his torso and back up to his face, "But I've given it a lot of thought and realized that my feelings are purely physical. I have no interest in an emotional relationship."
"Bullshit," Alex says immediately.
I struggle to find what to say next because both of us have a hard time believing my last sentence. It's true, I swear. I swear on Walmart runs, and shared joints, and Popeye's chicken, and minty breath strips that it's the truth. It's just that neither of us seems to believe it.
Alex speaks up first. "You're seriously only interested in a physical relationship? I'm just the British boy you happen to find attractive?"
"Alex, that's not fair. You're so much more than that and you know it."
His voice sounds hoarse and shattered. "Ella, if this is the only way that you'll have me, then…" he leans in and presses his lips against mine.
The kiss is hungry and I feel every single word he has ever wanted to tell me as he holds my tear-streaked face.
I kiss him back with the same urgency. He's right. This is the only way I will have him, and I ignore every bit of my conscience telling me this is cruel. Conscience doesn't matter when my hands are on his abs and our tongues are wrestling back and forth, oxygen be damned.
The console between us feels like the Appalachian Mountains, the Potomac River, and all five Great Lakes combined. We're all tongues and lips and teeth but I need more. "Alex, roll your seat back," I say into his lips. Without breaking our kiss, his hand finds the lever that moves his chair back a few inches. It's a hard angle to maintain, so I pull away to make my move.
First, I rip the keys out of the ignition–proof my brain is still operating a little bit–and toss them onto the dashboard of the car. Then, I climb over the console and straddle his legs once again.
He smirks and pulls me in close. I run my tongue over his jawbone. It's salty from the tears and I might have stayed there forever if not for his hands on my waist. I let my fingers get lost in his hair, and our lips meet in the middle for a kiss worthy of fireworks.
We stay like this for a moment, enjoying every texture, and taste, and sound. We're finally feeling each other. I eventually re-enter reality when I feel him tugging at my hoodie. I stop kissing him for a moment to help with the task at hand. My hoodie lands in the passenger seat revealing my CCR t-shirt and nothing underneath it.
Alex's hands locate a second lever, and I feel the seat reclining back, back, back, until it's stopped by what I believe is a camping stove in the backseat.
John Fogarty and the rest of the guys don't need to witness this debauchery, so it's good that Alex and I's bodies don't have a millimeter of space in between them.
We're reclined at an angle. I couldn't tell you which one, since there was no John Cornell School of Car Sex Geometry, but we're well past the point of 90 degrees.
Alex breaks our kiss and presses his lips against my collarbone through my shirt. The feeling of his 3-day-old stubble against my neck is intoxicating. I take a second to catch my breath and focus on the rest of our bodies. I am very much enjoying this and I can feel that he is too. My face flushes when I realize that last fact.
It's a meeting of lips, hands, tongues, and minds; and I've never understood him more than at this moment. I can feel how much he cares as he plants a kiss on my cheek. How he slowly becomes undone as I press my lips against his temple, jaw, and neck. I learn more about him through every touch and movement, and for a second I let my mind wander to the chance to do this all again.
I move one of his hands off of my waist and under my shirt. There's nothing between John Fogarty and me except for a sheen of sweat, and I exhale sharply as his fingers begin to explore beneath the fabric.
I crush my lips back against his and trace his gums with my tongue. I become intimately familiar with the shape of every single one of his teeth. I feel every ridge, groove, and valley. His whole mouth tastes minty now, thanks to my breath strips, and for a second I wonder why I didn't just give into these feelings sooner.
A car finally rumbles by, breaking us out of our trance, and I stop kissing him and shift backward. "Alex, we can't do this here. It's the middle of the morning, and we're right out in the open. We're going to get arrested."
"Yeah, probably," he mumbles, kissing my nose.
I take a deep breath, filling up my lungs. The air has a clarifying property and I climb off of him and back in my seat. "To be continued tonight. Let's just get on the road."
"Seriously? Ella, I don't want to wait until tonight. I want to find the nearest hotel and get this out of our systems before we kill each other."
"How romantic," I roll my eyes, but I'm into it and he knows it.
"Do you agree?"
I exhale. I hate to admit it, but he's right. I might explode if I had to sit next to him in this car for the next twelve hours. "I agree," I say quietly, "But I want to put a little more road between us and that cop car before we stop."
Alex nods and buckles his seatbelt, and then he waits until I do the same. In another second, we're back on the road, but everything has changed.
What do you talk about in the middle of Pennsylvania on your way to hook up with your friend who is desperately in love with you? How do you cut through the suffocating tension of your rebuilt car?Yes, and how do you push the past ten minutes to the back of your brain and pull yourself together enough to give him directions? The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind.
"You promise this doesn't mean anything more than two friends letting off some steam, right Alex? We've had a chaotic and emotional few days and it's getting to us. If we don't do something about these feelings, they will strangle us."
"Yeah," Alex says softly.
"And you're sure you want to do this? This still feels more like my idea than yours."
"I kissed you first," he says flippantly, "Both in the car a few moments ago, and on the cheek in front of Derek yesterday morning."
"Yeah," I pause, "But after today, we can't keep doing this, okay? This is all about some unresolved tension."
"Yes, Ella, you've made it abundantly clear," he snaps.
"Okay," I drag the word out defensively. Clearly talking isn't helping anybody resolve anything here.
I don't think I've ever made so many rash decisions in my life without at least consulting somebody else. As Alex drives onward, I begin to categorize my friends into Team Sleep-With-Him and Team Pull-Yourself-Together-Cornell.
Fenna, Roee, and Danny are undoubtedly in the former. Oren and Ava are for sure in the latter. I don't have to speak to my cousin Johannes to know that he never would have let things get this far.
Noa would probably murder me for finding myself in a situation like this one, but in the end, she would be Team Whatever-Makes-You-Happy-Dumbass. God only knows what side that is, though. I guess time will tell.
Oliver would probably be Team B. He was so goddamn annoying when I was trying to make him ask Fenna out all those years ago. Oliver is big on honesty, sure, but he was so scared he'd ruin that friendship if he ever spoke up. Am I going to destroy my friendship with Alex if I tell him to just keep driving once we see a hotel?
What's on his mind right now? Is he spiraling, too? Or, is he replaying the past few moments in his brain, turning over each kiss and touch we shared until they're polished, waiting for when we can have more of them in some roadside Pennsylvania hotel?
Is something physical (Alex and Ella! One Night Only!) going to be enough for him? Or is it going to be the first in a long string of messy nights together? If I let that happen, am I really any better than Tai? Is there any way to navigate this situation that doesn't end in heartbreak or dying lovingly in his arms?
There's one thing I know to be true: we need to get the hell out of the United States so that we can both just live our separate lives in England. We clearly cannot be trusted to be in a confined space together for all of these hours on end. What's that song lyric? Fuckin' and fightin', it's all the same. Yep! Pretty much.
Before I even realize it, another hour has gone by in silence and we drive through a town called Mansfield, Pennsylvania. It's the biggest town we've seen since Lock Haven, but it's so microscopic my DC brain barely even registers it as civilization. Alex wordlessly pulls into the parking lot of a hotel right off the road.
"So you're still sure about this?" I venture as he takes his backpack from behind him.
He leans over and kisses me softly. "I'm sure, Ella," he smiles.
Interlude #15
The Parking Lot of a Roadside Motel
Mansfield, Pennsylvania
We pack as light as we possibly can and I follow Alex inside. The main office of the hotel is in the center of a long brick building with five doors on either side of it.
There's a middle-aged woman behind the desk. She wears an ill-fitting black shirt and jeans. Her hair is tied back into a low ponytail and she has a world-weary look in her eyes. I guess I would too, if I had to live here.
Alex talks to her and tries unsuccessfully to negotiate an hourly deal. We really can't afford an entire night's stay with our dwindling pool of cash, so I offer the woman $50 in Walmart gift cards and two packs of cigarettes from the car to ignore that policy. I was hit by the smell of nicotine immediately upon entering the room, so it seemed like a logical trade. She begrudgingly agrees, after checking the balance on the gift cards online.
I finish checking in while Alex runs outside to find the cigarettes. The woman hands me the room key with an extremely judgemental look on her face.
It's very obvious what Alex and I are about to go do, but this truly is more than a rendezvous in a run-down motel. This is the only solution to a very unique problem. This is for friendship and valor. This is…happening.
Alex returns with two boxes of cigarettes we had purchased at Walmart which feels like a decade ago. "I told you these would come in handy," I mutter as we leave the lobby and find our room at the opposite end of the motel from our car and the front office. Touché, desk lady, Touché.
The room is small, probably hasn't been updated since 1982, and reeks of mildew and cheap air freshener. There's a gray paisley blanket on the queen-sized bed. The room also has a desk and another singular chair in the corner.
Alex locks the door behind us and immediately presses my back against the wall as he kisses me.
"Alex, wait," I say and he backs up, "I'm going to shower quickly and brush my teeth. I'm still feeling gross after the events of this morning. I promise I'll be so fast."
"Yeah, that's a good idea. No offense," he says quickly, putting both of his hands up.
"None taken at all. Can you check for any bugs while I shower?" Alex nods and we're off.
This might be the most important shower of my life. Smelling faintly of your own vomit is not exactly an aphrodisiac, so I scrub my skin until it's raw. After removing the hair extensions, I wash my real hair with some of the motel shampoo. I already know it's going to make my hair feel like straw, but it's a necessary evil.
Exactly six minutes later, I step outside the shower. I towel-dry my body and wring out my sopping hair in the sink. One benefit to this haircut is that it will dry quickly.
I'm staring at my backpack in the corner, wondering what the protocol is here. Just coming out wrapped in a towel feels too informal, but is getting completely dressed again worse? I punt that decision down the line for a few minutes and brush my teeth until my gums bleed.
How the breath strips concealed the vomit taste enough for Alex to want to keep making out is beyond me, but I'm not taking any more chances.
As I rinse my mouth with water from the sink, my towel slips, and I see something sickening. Staring right at me in the mirror is a bullet wound I got when I was sixteen. The offending circular mark is centered about my right clavicle, above my breast. It's about an inch in diameter, pale pink, and noticeably wrinkled compared to the rest of my chest. I can't explain it, but I swear it looks angry.
I instinctively pull the towel back over the scar. Don't I have anything to cover this up? I rifle through my backpack until I find a loose Band-Aid that mostly covers the mark. I look in the mirror to admire my handiwork, but then I notice the stab wound on my left shoulder. That one was James's fault.
I don't have any more bandages, and the longer I look, the more ugly, terrible scars I see. You could make constellations out of my arms and shoulders. While the bullet wound is ostensibly the worst, I can't ignore the scar on my face. The police officer had called it 'gnarly.'
Is that really what people think when they see my face? Oh, that poor girl with her gnarly, ugly, disgusting scar. How could I have been so stupid to not swipe back on my ring?
"You okay, Ellie?" Alex calls out.
"Yeah," I reply, my voice strained. How am I supposed to tell him that I can't do this? That my body is so ruined that we need to wait until it's dark out and turn the lights off. These scars have never been seen in the light of day by a partner, and I'm not starting that now.
I rip that stupid Band-Aid off of my clavicle, and I swear the wound looks even angrier. I slip back into my clothes from before and even find my spare sports bra for good measure. There. All covered up. I take an extra moment to put on all of my gadget jewelry: tons of rings, necklaces, and bracelets, all thanks to the CIA.
I exit the bathroom with damp hair, trying to piece together how I'm going to tell Alex that I'll be keeping my shirt on through all of this: it's too light out to do it any other way.
Alex is standing right outside of the door. "No bugs," he says.
"You really know what to say to get a girl hot," I tease, standing up on my tiptoes. He takes the hint and leans down, brushing his lips against mine.
"C'mere, Ellie," he says into my lips, holding me tight. I pull his hips into mine and we take a step backward so I'm up against the wall again.
"Alex, is that a knife in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?" I tease as my left hip collides with something hard.
He slips his hand into his shorts pocket. "Ells, I'm always happy to see you, but that is actually a knife."
"My knife," I remind him, taking it out of his hand, "And I want it back." I toss it onto the desk, removing it from our little bubble. I only want to feel him. He laughs and kisses me again.
We stay there, trying to get back to where we were in the car just an hour ago. I'm trying, but my head is not in the game at all. I'm trying to focus on him, but my mind keeps flicking back to the circular mark on my clavicle, the three-inch scar on my shoulder, and how gnarly my face is. Alex must be able to tell because he pulls away after a moment. "Are you okay, Ells?"
"Yeah," I reply after a second, "But, I think I need a change of position. I don't think I want to be against the wall."
"I can help with that," he grins. And goddamnit, if he doesn't grab my waist and pick me up. In spite of everything, I giggle as I wrap my arms around his shoulders and my legs around his waist.
"I've never been lifted up before," I smile into his lips.
He supports my weight by putting his hands underneath me. "Really?" he asks, "You're small and surprisingly light. I can't believe no one has ever tried."
"I'm not that short," I swat at his arm, causing him to almost drop me.
"You're perfect," he assures me, kissing my cheek, and I damn near believe him.
"Kiss me," I whisper, and in an instant, our lips are pressed together again and my whole body is warm and happy. For a minute, nothing else exists besides his strong hands beneath me and his lips on mine.
I'm so focused on him that it takes me by surprise when I feel movement. I open my eyes slowly and break the kiss. "Ellie, I don't have the arm strength to do this forever, so I'm going to carry you over here," he explains, and a few seconds later, he sits me down on the side of the bed.
I scoot over so I'm sitting against the pillows and he climbs onto the bed too. He sidles up next to me, pulls my chin over towards him, and kisses me. Already, my arms are around him and his other hand is under my t-shirt. We have a lot more room than before, and even this motel bed is a lot more comfortable than the driver's seat of a rebuilt car. I shift my attention to Alex's neck, pressing my lips against his shirt collar. I move up his neck, kissing my way up to his ear. The three-day-old scruff on his cheek scratching my forehead and temple is really doing it for me.
My focus is completely shattered when I feel him begin to lift up my shirt. "No!" I exclaim, pulling it back down. Alex looks startled. "I mean…not yet. Yo-you're good. I'm sorry I scared you," I say quickly, "I want to take things slowly." It's a bit of a lie (because I want him so bad, it's driving me mad) but I haven't figured out how to broach the subject of hidden scars yet. What if he hates them? What if he too finds them gross, or unlovable, or gnarly?
"Here," I say, moving away from him and lying down flat on the bed, "Come here, Honey."
"Ella, are you sure? I don't want you to feel pressured to do anything," he remains seated.
"I'm sure. Seriously."
"I'll follow your lead then, okay? You tell me what you want." He still seems taken aback by my outburst.
I wish I wasn't driving after this, because I could really use a drink.
"Come here," I repeat, pulling his arm.
He shifts over slowly, lowering his body on top of mine. "Is this what you want, Ellie?"
He's so much taller than me, so his body completely covers mine. "This is everything that I want,
Alex," I say, pulling him in for a kiss. We're both wearing only t-shirts and athletic shorts, and the expanse of skin-on-skin contact is incredible. I love the feeling of his legs entangled with mine and his muscular arms around me. I'm trying to remain cool while our kissing intensifies at the speed of light and I literally could not tell you where I end and he begins. I'm breathing heavily and suddenly I exhale a little louder than I mean to.
"That was so hot," he mumbled into my lips, our mouths raw and slippery. His hips grind into mine in rhythm with our kisses. There is barely any fabric between us. Our tongues are sparring: we're both trying to gain the upper hand in an invisible battle. His hands are in my hair, and mine are on his hips, and the room is thick and hazy with tension. It's everything and I never want to be anywhere other than here ever again. Uh oh.
All of a sudden, Alex breaks the kiss and rolls off of me and I instantly feel hollow. "I need to cool down for a second," he pants.
"Get my backpack from the bathroom," I instruct, "There's something in the front pocket that we may want."
"Thank God," he mumbles and rolls off the bed. He gets up and walks into the bathroom.
I take a moment to catch my breath. I still haven't worked out the physics here, but keeping our shirts on feels within reach. We can crawl under the covers, and he barely needs to look at me at all. That's it!
I climb under the comforter, fully clothed, and wait for him to return. He's back in a second, holding my backpack in front of him. He brings me the backpack and I pull a bag of toiletries out of the front pocket. Behind a mesh pocket, my fingers land on a small foil square. I hand it to Alex while I put the toiletries bag away and toss my backpack onto that solo chair.
He places the wrapped condom gently on the pillow next to mine. "So, how do you want to do this, Ellie?"
"I want–" I start but am interrupted by a phone ringing. Alex and I exchange glances, realizing it's coming from my backpack. I sit up hastily while he Bond-Rolls over the bed to retrieve my bag. I suppress how attractive that is and attempt to focus. I take my burner phone from the mesh side pocket of the backpack.
It's Yuri's number?
"Yuri," I whisper to Alex and pick up the phone.
"What is going on?" Yuri exclaims, sounding panicky. His immediate intensity serves to kill the entire vibe Alex and I just worked so hard to cultivate.
"Nothing," I say quickly, "What do you mean?"
"I have been able to track your location for the past twenty minutes! My calls have been going through. Why didn't you pick them up? Where the hell are you?"
"We're at a hotel," Alex tells him.
"Where we spent the night," I lie through gritted teeth and Alex's face pales, "And I left my backpack in the bathroom. Neither of us heard the phone ringing. We left the RF inhibitor in the car. I guess it doesn't reach the entire hotel room. I'm so sorry, Yuri."
"Don't be sorry. Get the hell out of town! Oliver said your family left the campsite early this morning after your dad discovered his computer melted. Everyone else just went to the airport, and he assumes your family should be home by now. He no longer has eyes on what your dad can see, so it's safest to assume he's been able to track you. I can only scramble the signal for a few minutes at a time, and you've been visible for probably ten to fifteen minutes."
"Holy shit," I whisper.
"Get out of the hotel now and get on the road. You need to leave town immediately. Once you get back within range, the RF inhibitor should take you guys back off the grid. I've already cut the feeds to every security camera in Mansfield, so you should be able to escape town unnoticed as long as you do it now." This is probably the most I have ever heard Yuri speak before and my heart is beating so hard it might crack a rib. "I'm going to black out cameras on the way towards Chicago to try to confuse them while you head in the other direction."
"How much time would you say we have?" I ask for entirely selfish reasons. "Do we have like four minutes," I wink at Alex hoping he catches my drift, "Before we have to pack up?" He looks personally affronted by the estimation. I roll my eyes. "Fine. Do we have six or seven minutes before we have to pack up?" Alex smirks and nods at me. I shove his arm.
"Personally, I wouldn't risk it. I'm sure your dad has already sent the local police your way, and Oliver seemed pretty convinced he was going to go nuclear after his computer was discovered melted this morning. From everything I understand about these dynamics, you should already be on the road." I curse him out internally (in Russian!) but I know that he's right. There's no way that local law enforcement hasn't been contacted. As much as certain places in my lower abdomen are going to hate me for this one, it's time to get this show on the road.
"Okay, Yuri. Call us back in three minutes if you can still track us. Thank you for everything." I slam the phone shut.
"Alex," I turn to him, "I am so sorry but we have got to get out of here now."
"Impeccable timing," he mumbles but stands up anyway. He still has a bit of a situation, so I offer to grab the car while he packs up the few items we brought with us. We had prepaid the front desk for three hours–that was bold, in hindsight–so all I need to do now is toss the desk lady the keys before we make our great escape.
"Here," I press the foil square left on the pillow into his hand, "Think of it as a souvenir." I kiss his cheek and run out of the room, nothing but my shoes and two sets of keys in my hands.
I exit the room and run five doors down to the front office. Thankfully there are no new cars in the parking lot. We couldn't have been there for more than 40 minutes total. Still shoeless, I rip open the front office door.
I make eye contact with the lady at the front desk. The sound of the door opening is enough to take her focus away from her phone. "Catch!" I exclaim and whip the room keys slightly to the left of her. I turn around and run across a few feet of sidewalk before reaching the driver's seat of the car. I shove the keys into the ignition, thankful I hadn't tossed the wrong pair at the woman. Barefoot, I drive the car to the front of Alex and I's room and honk twice.
I take a moment to slip on my socks and sneakers and by the time I'm done, Alex is in the passenger seat with both backpacks and the phone.
The car tires squeal terribly as I peel out of the parking lot, praying that we don't get caught.
AN: I am genuinely such a liar and need to stop making claims about chapter numbers before they're written. Each chapter I write starts with a goal and then all of a sudden it's over 7,000 words and that goal has not been achieved. I've already accepted that this beast will be a thousand chapters, so it's best you all do too. Brevity is the soul of wit, so bear that in mind as well. Thanks as always for reading my many musings.
Anyways. Spicyy!