“You know how I slept. You were watching,” I muttered. “And if you comment further, you will not get this nummy treat.” I made a sarcastic wave toward the warmer.
“I would hate to miss that. So where will our adventures lead us this evening?” he asked, rubbing his hands together. “Perhaps you can pick a fight with a motorcycle gang.”
I gasped in mock incredulity. “Collin, are you having fun?”
“I simply enjoy trying to predict what you’ll do next. Force of habit.”
I assured Collin that I’d eaten before he rose, so we should just keep driving. He drank his warmed blood on the road. I had no idea how I was going to handle the hotel issue. Collin would be furious when he realized that I’d been lying to him. We would probably have to sleep in the car. And the farther I drove, the lamer the lie would seem.
“Are you all right?” he asked for the fifth time that night. “You seem very tense.”
“I just want to make as much progress as we can tonight, so tomorrow night isn’t such a haul.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to stop for a soda or a bathroom break?” he said. “You haven’t rested since I rose.”
“I’m fine,” I insisted.
But I wasn’t fine. I was freaking exhausted. I blinked at the road, my eyelids and limbs heavy. I was so tired that holding my head up seemed to take a monumental effort. If I was alone, I would turn up the radio to obnoxious girl pop and sing along. I’d open the windows and drink enough caffeine to fire up a legion of skater kids. I didn’t think Collin would appreciate any of that, so I soldiered on.
I was quiet, mulling over the Jason issue and how I would approach him when I got back home. I dreaded seeing him. No matter what I said, I would be disappointing someone. If I ended it, Jason would be upset … in theory. If I got back together with him, I would be disappointing Lisa. And if I didn’t make a decision, I would be surprising no one. The odd thing was, I dreaded the prospect of dropping Collin off at Ophelia’s and saying good-bye so much more than having “the talk” with Jason.
The car was warm. The music was quiet and classical, heavy on lyrical piano. The pattern of yellow stripes marking the lanes created a mental rhythm, lulling me into a state of relaxation. My eyes grew heavy. I saw Collin in breeches and a waistcoat, shirt undone at the collar. He was standing in a field, emerald grass rolling like an ocean. The sun shone down on his skin, beautiful, ruddy, smooth skin glowing with health. He was walking toward me, his eyes twinkling with a special smile that meant that he was happy I’d returned at last. His arms wrapped around me, pressing me so close that my nose nestled against the hollow of his throat. He smelled like rosewood and fresh-mown hay. His hands slipped up my arms, shaking my shoulders. He pulled away, staring down at me with alarm.
“Miranda!” he cried. “Wake up!”
I gasped, bolting up in the seat. The car was veering right, my hands slack on the wheel.
“Miranda!” Collin yelled, shaking me awake.
“I’m awake!” I cried. “I’m awake! I’m sorry!”
The car was sliding off the shoulder into a rocky, unforgiving ditch. I yelped, jerking the wheel, praying that I wouldn’t overcorrect and end up in the opposite lane or flip the freaking car. I sucked in a huge lungful of air, willing the oxygen to recirculate through my brain and wake me the hell up.
“Are you all right?” he asked, brushing my hair away from my face.
I nodded, reaching into the cooler compartment to drag out a Coke and slug back most of it in one gulp. “I’m just a little tired.”
And my nose was burning, because some of the Coke bubbles went the wrong way.
“Tired, hell, Miranda. You’re exhausted. I can feel it rolling off you in waves. You’re making me sleepy, and it’s practically mid-morning by my internal clock.”
“I’ll be fine,” I said, yawning widely. “We have a couple of hours to go yet before we reach our goal for the night. If we stop now, we won’t be able to make the Hollow on time tomorrow night. We’re too close, Collin. I can’t hold us up just because I’m a little sleepy.”
Also, I didn’t know how the hell we would pay for a hotel, I silently added, and sleeping at a truck stop didn’t really appeal to me.
“Pull over,” he said, opening his atlas and checking our route.
“What? Why?”
“I’m going to drive.”
“You don’t have a license,” I protested.
“That doesn’t mean I don’t know how to drive. I just didn’t want to be documented by the human government.”
“Were you afraid you would take a bad photo?” I asked, yawning again.
“Impossible. Look at my profile.”