Sunbound

☀ You're So Much Prettier When Your Mouth is Shut

C H A P T E R 24: You're So Much Prettier When Your Mouth is Shut

☀ ☀ ☀

 When they say that the tension is so thick you could cut it with a knife, Scout didn't think they meant it literally.

Since Skylar turned the radio on as he sped as fast as possible out of Santa Fe and away from a possible assault charge, not a single word had been exchanged between them. He stopped once at a gas station to fuel up, and then he  drove as stiff and quiet as a corpse, while the Chevelle roared like she was going on fire. Scout, on the other hand, spent the first hour of the drive crying into her hands, and then the proceeding four hours sleeping off the exhaust that always set in after a big cry.

Scout was disappointed in herself, more than anything. Disappointed that she always managed to put herself in disagreeable situations. Disappointed that she always let every emotion she ever had get the best of her. And disappointed that she let Skylar down. The latter was the real kicker, though. She had never seen Skylar so mad. She knew she'd really done it this time, but a part of her was too proud to say anything, so she cried it out and fell asleep.

Skylar was still mad as hell. He gripped the steering wheel so hard that he heard a few stitches in the leather pop under the pressure of his hands. He was thinking that if this is how the remainder of this excursion was going to go, then he might as well turn around and take her right back home. She was the most infuriating thing he had encountered in a very long time.

Then, just as quickly and fixed as he was angry, he was sad. He could never tell her, or anyone for that matter, but in those moments of Scout peeking out of the bathroom door of Malcolm's hotel room, and seeing the look of fear on her face, she reminded him of the redhead. All of the guilt and disgust came back, crashing in like waves determined enough to take out whole cities. He never knew feelings like that could hurt so much.

Skylar was staring forward at the road continuously unfolding ahead of them, but images of the redhead's face and Scout's began overlapping each other above the road. He shook his head and the images dissipated after a moment. God, he'd give anything to take that night, and many other ones, back.

He almost apologized. It was an apology to both of the overlapping faces. Although he didn't know the girl from the bar, he knew that no one deserved that. Especially Scout. No matter how pissed he was at her, he hoped she would always be safe and sound. So, his jaw fell open and the words "I'm sorry" lolled up from the back of throat. They bounced off of his teeth, and he almost spit them out, but he clamped his jaw shut. Scout had fallen asleep at that point, her head resting against the window that her breath was fogging up. He didn't want to wake her and have to explain to her why he was apologizing, so he didn't. Instead, he dropped his head back against the headrest. His eyes were still focused on the road ahead, right hand on the top of the steering wheel and the left hanging out the window in the brisk air.

It was only then that Skylar felt the pain that nestled in his abdomen. His ribs were pounding hard against the back of his skin like they could rip through at any given moment. All the adrenaline from turning Malcolm's car into a battered tin can had finally worn off, and Skylar was paying for it. He grit his teeth and tried to breathe through it with his focus on other things.

He hadn't been keeping track of the time, but he figured they were about five hours into the drive. He only knew because the Chevelle had just blown passed a billboard that advertised some swanky casino in Denver, Colorado, twenty miles ahead of them. He figured he must have missed the sign for Colorado. He hadn't even realized they crossed state lines yet.

Skylar looked over at Scout. She was still sleeping soundlessly. Anyone would've thought she was a dead body in passing if it hadn't been for her breath on the glass. Skylar thought she was much prettier, the face he had pictured on bare billboards a hundred times over since he met her, when she wasn't talking up a storm. Literally. He'd watched her conjure up a tornado with a single word before. It was an argument between Scout and Mandy, so it was bound to happen anyhow, but Scout did unapologetically play hopscotch on peoples' last nerves.