Until Forever

Chapter Eight

I don't recall drifting into sleep. Like my mind is consumed with so many feelings, so many thoughts, that it overloads and blows a fuse. Then it's merely blank-so empty that even a dream is intimidated to fill the space. I do remember the sun setting, spreading it's wings across the expanse of the horizon as the moon takes its place. When I wake, the sun is out full force, glaring obnoxiously through the window. The car isn't moving. 

Where are we? 

I blink and bring my hand up to shelter my eyes from the invasion of light. I turn my head to the side and cringe. Crap. I've been immobile for too long and now my muscles are frozen into place, screaming with every move. Finn's torso slowly comes into view. One hand is wrapped around a gas pump and the other is shoved inside his pocket. I can see the threads starting to fray from the belt around his waist. 

As if he has some kind of inexplicable intuition, he leans down and peers inside the window. Once he notices I'm awake, his hand comes out of his pocket, touches his lips then press against my window and I can see him mouth the word, "hey." 

I roll down the window. 

"Mornin'," he says, this time without the barrier of glass. 

"Morning? Are you kidding me?" 

"Nope," he says. "Not even a little." He looks at his watch. "It's quarter to ten." 

"Oh my God. How long did I sleep for?" 

He shrugs. "For Oklahoma." 

"Huh?" 

"We've passed through Oklahoma. Crossed over into Texas about thirty miles ago." 

"Texas?" 

"Texas," he repeats. "The state which my ego is not as big as."  

"You drove through the night?" 

"I slept for two hours." The gas pump clicks to signal that its done and he places it back into the large tank before screwing the gas cap on his car until it too clicks. 

The machine spits out a pay at the pump receipt that Finn promptly shoves in his pocket before rounding the front of the car and climbing into the driver's seat. 

"Don't worry about me. How are you feeling this fine morning?" 

"No doubt better than you. You must be tired." 

"Remember how I said I didn't drink coffee?" 

"Yeah." 

He holds out his hand, which is shaking. "I drank some." 

"Are you going to be okay?" 

"I feel great," he says. "Never better. How about you? You hungry?" 

"Not really." 

My stomach growls on cue, coincidentally, at the precise moment heat flushes my cheeks. Finn smirks and slips his hand just under the hem of my shirt, his thumb brushes across my skin and I don't even exhale because I'm too afraid to breathe. 

"You're hungry." 

I nod. "Maybe a little." 

Too soon, he removes his hand and twists his body, placing one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the stick shift. "Food for my girl. Then we'll see how far we can get before my caffeine high crashes and burns." 

I completely disregard the fact that he calls me his, or at least I try to. "You should sleep," I say. "I can drive."  

"No rest for the wicked."