"And then it happened
It took me by surprise
I knew that you felt it too
By the look in your eyes"
- The Drifters, "This Magic Moment"
Chapter Thirty-Two
The third motel was much smaller. It was just as old as the last, clearly a family-owned remnant of the sixties, but it was clean. Sure, the paint was faded, and the gutters were warped, but everything felt well-loved and taken care of. Even in the thick darkness, I could see this was more of a home than it was a business.
I could imagine this motel being a quaint, but well-traversed hideaway for families back in the day; at its prime, probably overrun with joy and summer fun. There was a small pool and a wide patio to the side of the building, and even an in-ground hot tub tucked beyond the fence for the guest's enjoyment.
My muscles ached at the thought of warmth. My injuries were not doing well being cooped in a car. While Reed always drove carefully to avoid unneeded jolts, and religiously kept a close eye on my medications, there was only so much to be done. So, while I was truthfully hesitant about public pools, if the water was clean, then maybe that fact could be disregarded. It was worth checking out in the morning before we had to leave; spending time in hot water to get rid of some stiffness sounded pretty damn amazing.
I should probably tell Reed in case he finds an empty room. Don't want to be accused of trying to murder the receptionist.
Reed stepped out to the hallway after checking and clearing my room. "Goodnight, Avery."
"I'm going to be at the pool tomorrow," I blurted, leaning against the open door. "Before we leave."
Reed paused, blinking at me. "We're leaving early."
"I know. I'll be ready to go in time."
"You can't go off by yourself."
"Our rooms face the pool. You'll be able to see me if you need to, and you'll hear me if anything happens. You're also welcome to join me."
I'm not going on a hike, I'm going twenty feet away from the building. It might be stupid, but it's definitely not the stupidest thing I could do.
Maybe it was a bad idea to leave his side. No, I knew it was a bad idea. But the lobby faced the pool as well, and there'd be enough people in the vicinity if something happened. It would be fine; it had to be. Besides, I had a feeling he'd either come with me or watch me like a hawk. I was desperate.
"Don't worry, I know to scream if I need to," I added when he didn't respond. I winced when that seemed to make it worse.
He looked like he was fighting an eye twitch.
"Fine," Reed eventually relented, gruff and blank-faced. I felt like I'd won, though I'd had to tug it out of his clenched teeth like a dog. "We're on the road at eight."
Then, he spun on his heel, disappearing into his room and shutting his door with a click. I smiled.
The next morning, I was exhausted. My sleep was getting worse. My anger was constantly bubbling; my frustration was always churning; my health was still decaying. If I thought my sleep poor after the party, it was significantly worse after going on the run.
My brain simply wouldn't shut off. It was too busy thinking of all the things that could go wrong, of all the ways this could end badly. For the literal life of me, I couldn't think of a realistic happy ending. Though I'd been raised on fairytales and impossibly tidy endings, even when unreasonable or absurd—so should have believed by now—I was as baffled as I'd been as a kid. How could this possibly end up okay? Besides, this wasn't a fairytale, there were no writers to fix this, no origin tale to draw from.
These thoughts were worse when it was dark and quiet. That was when the facts seemed to hide in the shadows, unrelenting as they waited for me to close my eyes; always patient and hungry as they tried tearing me apart.
I slipped out of my room at an early hour, paranoid and shivery in the morning mist. It felt wrong that Reed wasn't with me. Dangerous. I had to remind myself he was nearby if I needed him as I made my way outside.
Water lapped softly at the edge of the pool as I led myself past the gate. It looked freezing. I was wearing an old T-shirt and relatively ratty shorts; neither would protect me from the cold. Not that it mattered, because I certainly hadn't packed a bathing suit.
I slipped into the water, mist still clinging to my skin, and my breath hitched. It was freezing, as I'd expected but dreaded; cold raced across my skin, sweeping the constant exhaustion away.
"Nope, nope, nope," I chattered, pushing out of the water. I'd gotten what I needed from the pool. I was awake and alert, and the effects of my insomnia were calmed for the moment, so I saw no need to suffer any longer. Instead, I hurried to my next destination. The hot tub was a saving grace after the cold shock. I quickly sat in the warming water and simmered.
As I did, more thoughts prodded and poked.
The tidal wave of emotion I'd been swept in since the party was receding; what was left was a soaked woman who'd almost choked on the tide. I was pissed. I needed to regain my warmth, and I would do so by setting fire to the world that'd tried to drown me. Gone was the sadness, the grief, the hopelessness that'd crashed over me. All that was left was anger. Anger, anger, anger.
There was no greater antidote to fear than anger.
If I'm going to pay for something I did, then I want to do something worth paying for.
Steam rose steadily over the hot tub in gentle rolling waves. My body relaxed as I slid further into the water. Alone on a peaceful summer morning, the birds loud and the sun gaining intensity, I released the anger and let it dissipate with the steam. I let it dissolve like the morning's mist under the scrutinizing gaze of light. Right then, I'd relax. The anger would return eventually, but all I wanted was peace, even if for just a moment.
"That's bad for your knee."
I jolted, cursing as I knocked against the edge of the hot tub and wrenched my knee. Forced to grit my teeth against the pain, I swiveled.
Reed stood nearby. His hands were tucked into the pockets of his shorts as his careful eyes surveyed the scene before him.
"You are this close to getting a bell!" I threatened. I settled back into the water, grumbling and grouchy.
Then, I paused, turning back with a frown. "It's not even seven-thirty yet! There's still time before we have to leave."
Reed's eyes slid around the pool this time, then to the otherwise empty deck, and further to the deserted parking lot. He shrugged, casual and aloof when he met my eyes again. "I didn't say anything about leaving."
"Then why are you here?"
Because it's his job to be. And because I said he could. And because it's objectively very stupid for me to be out here, alone or not.
He rightfully hadn't been thrilled about this idea last night, and like I'd predicted, he wasn't going to leave me alone. It was his job to be near me, to scan for threats, to accompany me. I wasn't sure there'd been even a single moment where I'd actually thought he'd hang back instead of coming out; the offer last night had been a formality more than anything.
"Just checking in. The pool was too cold, huh?" he observed, green gaze shining with muffled humor. "You got out quick."
I scowled, but immediately tugged back some form of nonchalance; some aloofness to match his. "It served its purpose."
Untwisting my neck, I tilted my head back and closed my eyes. His steps were loud in the quiet as he got a little closer. "That's bad for your injuries," he said again.
"You said that," I sighed. "But my injuries would currently disagree."
He kept pushing, insistent. "Your knee's still swollen. The heat will make it worse."
"Go away, Reed. You're disrupting the peace."
"Get out, Avery. You're going to be in more pain."
I opened my eyes at that, jutting my chin over my shoulder to look at him again. He stood tall, steadfast, and stubborn as all hell in the brightening sun.
If I'm going to go down for something, let it be something I actually did. If I get punished for something, let it be for a risk I took. If I have to face the consequences, let it be because I stepped out of line.
Screw being professional or scared. Screw having the ball in his court.
"I'm good," I said. I challenged him with every syllable. He knew it; I watched his resolve harden.
"You're getting out."
"Yeah?" My head tilted, and I knew my face to be blank, even when I said, "You going to make me?"
I startled myself with how those words slipped out, but I didn't let myself fall to regret, or dwell on it. It was both an invitation and a challenge. And if it was unwanted, if I'd crossed a line, then at least I would know. I'd have my answer.
I needed an answer.
Something flickered across Reed's face, too fast for me to identify, but his eyes showed his own surprise. They held it, even when he schooled his expression back to indifference. He stepped closer, his surprise fading to something more intense.
"Get out, Avery."
"I heard you." I shrugged. "And I will, when it's time to leave."
I did things when I was ready.
But there are things I will never truly be ready for. And I don't have to be; some things are impossible to entirely prepare for.
He took more steps until he was right next to the hot tub. He crouched down, hovering like a dragonfly over me, eyes locked on mine.
"You're so stubborn," Reed said, quiet.
My favorite shade of green.
"So are you," I breathed.
"Get out."
"Get in." I grinned softly. "The water's nice."
He stared doubtfully at me, then at the water, and finally at his clothes. Seeing it, seeing the doubt I knew all too well, my hand snaked from the water to gently grasp his arm. Goosebumps erupted across my heated skin—but it wasn't from the sharp contrast in temperature.
His eyes darted to mine; something flared. Something caved in those fields of green and began to burn.
"We both have changes of clothes," I murmured. My hand was still on his arm; a lightning rod that craved the storm. I didn't recognize the look on his face—and I didn't know what to call that look in his eyes, either. It was unknown as it burned into me. Unknown, and perhaps forever unrecognizable, but thrilling. It was exhilarating to be looked at like that. Whatever it meant, whatever it would do, whatever it would take; it was a look I'd never had the pleasure of receiving before.
I didn't know what it was, nor how to keep it, but I was desperate to.
"Get in," I repeated. I felt my lips curve, out of control.
It was like an out-of-body experience. Who was this Avery? This wasn't the Avery I usually was. This was the other Avery, the one who'd touched his face that afternoon, the one who'd cradled his jaw that night while we talked in the car. This Avery was bolder, wilder.
Touchier.
This Avery was hungrier, but not for success. She had nothing, and yet everything, to lose. This Avery was ready to be unprepared.
Reed was frozen for another moment, before his body unraveled. My hand fell as he stood and reached into his pockets. His phone was taken out, placed on the ground, and his shoes were kicked off as he stepped back to the edge.
Wait, what's happening? Is he really going to do it? With his clothes on? I can't believe it. Oh my god. Guess I'm not the only one feeling out of character, Mr. Sterling!
This wasn't us. Normally, I'd never be so bold, and he'd never go along. But for some reason, there we were.
Maybe we'd both snapped. Maybe we'd lost our minds somewhere on the road hundreds of miles back, because this wasn't us. We weren't reckless or spontaneous in moments like this. Yet, I was acting cheeky and unreserved, and he wasn't stopping me. It seemed as if he was actually considering joining me; considering stealing a moment before it was time to leave, just like I was.
My eyes dropped, falling to his hands as they lifted to the hem of his shirt.
No. Would he? Oh my god.
Hands twisted and pulled. Fingers tightened and clenched. Fabric clung to his skin as it was tugged up and off, inch by inch, until the shirt gave way. Thread by thread, a boundary was dismantled and discarded. Measure by measure, I was shoved into new territory. Moment by moment, something was changing.
My eyes were stuck on the garment when he tossed it to the side, away from the wet edges of the deck. My gaze stayed fixed on the heap of cloth—dazed at the sight—but my eyes snapped to the man above me when he shifted a little closer.
The shirtless man.
The man without a shirt.
The Reed man.
Reed was that man.
Reed did not have a shirt on.
I wasn't in control. I wasn't in control of how my hands clenched on the bench or where my eyes landed. I wasn't the one who decided they'd fall on his hips, where his shorts were revealed to be hanging dangerously low. I had no control over how my eyes slowly raised, mapping every edge and curve; how they explored the dips, the muscles, the freckle on his shoulder. The way his throat bobbed. Or how my eyes refused to blink when they finally made it back to his, and saw them already fixed on mine.
I should've felt embarrassed that he'd caught me staring. I should've felt guilty. But I didn't—not when he looked at me like that. Not when I felt like that.
I should feel bad objectifying him. What if I made him uncomfortable?
The thought tried to wiggle in, but it couldn't gain my full attention. Because he didn't look uncomfortable; he didn't look uncertain or upset. There was no trace of discomfort or uneasiness as his body lowered. There was only that look in his eyes as the water parted and submitted. Only that look as he slid in, his body brushing against mine.
The water got hotter as he settled next to me.
Oh my god. What the hell is wrong me? I've never had a hormonal response like this! Not even mid-puberty when I saw Ryan Reynolds on the big screen.
And that was precisely it—there was no comparison.
Not even the dashing leads in the old movies I loved held a candle to him. Marlon Brando didn't know anything about desire. James Dean had nothing on the rebellion we were part of. Gregory Peck knew nothing of chasing what could never be tamed.
There was only Reed Sterling.
I shivered, even in the strong heat.
I immediately wished I hadn't. The movement broke the connection, shattering what was building and causing it to shift and falter. Reed blinked, dusting off what'd overtaken him, and moving away. I did, too. As if I'd flopped face-down in the pool beside us, I smacked painfully back into awareness.
"You can't be in here too long," he spoke, breaking the silence. "You need to get out soon." His voice held warnings as he pushed himself deeper into the water, but his eyes were now on anything but me.
His bare shoulders disappeared under the bubbles. Those shoulders of his were always strained with the weight of his burdens; I hoped the hot water was offering him relief, even if I didn't feel my own anymore. Whatever peace I'd managed to grasp earlier was gone, snatched by whatever was clawing at my veins instead.
God, his shift to normalcy was staggering.
I forced myself to look away. I grappled with my composure, taking a beat to pull myself together, to rush back to a state of function. I tried to follow his lead, trying to accept the daunting realization of what'd just happened, because that moment just happened—and now we needed to navigate the end.
We had to deal with what happened now, when a moment like that flitted away.
"Five more minutes." I cleared my throat, urging away the waver from it as he settled across from me. "It feels good."
"Are you sore?"
His eyes hovered on my frame, scanning like he'd be able to see what was hurt. I remembered how I'd similarly mapped his body just moments before; my intentions hadn't been quite as innocent.
"Aren't you?" I asked. "We've been in the car for days now."
His head tilted, green finding and holding me again. "I'm sorry," he said.
My forehead pinched despite my efforts. "For what?"
My fingers skimmed the surface of the water as I waited. I focused on my hand and the bubbles that tickled my palm, trying not to think back. That hadn't been the first time, and surely wouldn't be the last time, I'd admired everything he had to offer... but it was the first time he'd ever looked at me like that in return.
Reed cleared his throat, shifting where he sat. "I'm sorry you have sit in a car for so long when you're injured. It's not comfortable; I know it's hurting you."
"There's no other choice."
There was another choice, but it involved not running. It involved giving in and going back. That wasn't a real choice I could consider, because that was nothing but a potential death sentence. That was—
Reed's knee softly brushed mine, pulling me out of the rabbit hole before I spiraled. His eyes hadn't wavered yet.
"Your five minutes are running out," he reminded.
I swallowed dryly, trying to muster a smile and focus. "Guess I should enjoy it while I can, then," I said. "I don't want to lose my window of opportunity."
Everything was humming. The jets vibrated and pulsed, swirling already tumultuous waters, and heat caressed skin that already felt too hot and alive. Our bodies were a little closer now. When had that happened?
"No, don't want that," he agreed. His voice was barely above a hum.
Oh no.
And I knew then, with every raw nerve ending that sparked, that the moment had never really ended; it'd only ebbed and flowed. And suddenly, somehow, it was now flooding the shore.
God, I was wrong when I'd thought the moment was over—because it was never over with him.
We'd only been in the eye of the hurricane then.
And I felt it. I felt it in the air around us, in every single one of my cells that called out. I saw it. I saw it in those eyes, those same eyes I liked so damn much. I heard it. I heard it in the rough thrumming of my heart as it strained against my chest. And I could almost taste it. He was so close now. I was so close. We were so very, very close.
Is this a choice I'm willing to make? Can I handle the consequences?
But for once in my life, I didn't give a damn about the consequences.
And, apparently, neither did he.