Chapter 12
This Walmart is running out of just about everything they sell, but they still have cold air conditioning. I’ve been sitting on the floor in the magazine section for the last hour, just soaking up the cool air and avoiding the hot summer heat. And Kennedy.
After I got Ella’s email, I didn’t need to wait around outside looking for her car. I knew she wasn’t coming.
And I hate this—I hate it—about myself, but part of me was a little relieved. (Just a little.) Now I have one more day to get rid of Kennedy before I meet up with Ella again. I don’t like lying to my girlfriend, but she’s so stressed out right now that I think telling her that I got stranded with my bitch of an ex-girlfriend would kill her. I don’t want her sitting alone in some hotel thinking about how I’m stuck with Kennedy.
If she were stuck with some guy she dated, I’d hate it. And maybe that makes me a shit person, I don’t know. Icouldjust tell Kennedy to screw off, but I can’t find that type of meanness inside of me. She’s kind of stupid when it comes to stressful situations. She has no parents, and no car. I can’t just leave her here alone, even though I am totally and completely over her and Ella has nothing to worry about.
After I emailed Ella and my parents, I looked all over the internet for a hotel or a gas station that still has gas. The word in the parking lot is that all gas stations within a hundred miles are empty, and my truck only has maybe half a tank left. The news keeps showing footage of the roads that are cramped with vehicles, all going maybe three miles an hour. Some roads aren’t moving at all, and the cars are just parked there.
As much as this sucks, I’d rather be stuck in a Walmart all day than stuck in my truck with no fuel and Kennedy in the passenger seat.
I’m staying here, even if I have to sleep on the floor between the magazine and book aisle. The alternative would be to camp in the parking lot like a lot of people are doing, but all the camping gear is now sold out of this store. So I really don’t know what to do. Hit the road and attempt to get to the hotel before I run out of gas and risk getting stuck with Kennedy?
Or stay here, stuck with Kennedy, and no place to sleep besides the bed of my truck?
Both options leave me stuck with Kennedy.
What I wouldn’t give to be sharing a hotel with Ella right now. Just for kicks, I try calling her again, but it doesn’t go through. The news described the problem that we’re all having as a satellite traffic jam. Apparently too many people in Texas are trying to use their phones all at the same time, and even if you have cell signal, the calls can’t get through because they can’t all communicate with the satellites at the same time. So unless you get lucky and your call manages to get through, you’re not making a phone call. The cool thing about the sat phone that guy had is that they’re made to kick off other people from the satellite and prioritize your call so it’ll go through. I would kill to have a sat phone right now.
“There you are!” Kennedy’s shrill voice ruins the peaceful vibe I’ve cultivated here in the magazine aisle.
I look over at her and she’s got her hands on her hips, her blonde hair tied up in a messy bun on top of her head. I know from experience that she used to spend hours trying to make her “messy bun” look naturally messy and cute. Right now it looks like the real thing.
“What’s up?” I say, refusing to apologize for ditching her even though she’s giving me that look that demands an apology.
“Ugh, Ethan. I’ve been looking for you forever. What the hell are you even doing?”
I also don’t have to answer that, since I’m not her boyfriend anymore. I shrug. “Reading a magazine.”
She rolls her eyes. “So we can’t get out of here because of the gas shortage, but you’ve got enough left to go somewhere close, right?”
“Yeah, but I figure this massive parking lot with all the free food is the best we’re gonna find.”
She snorts. “Hardly. We’ve got reservations at the Hilton that’s six miles away from here. Come on. Let’s go.”
I stand up and put the hot rod magazine back where it goes. “What are you talking about? There aren’t any available hotels. They’re all booked.”
Her lips twist up in a cocky grin. “There are available rooms if you know the right people.” She holds up her phone as if that should tell me what I need to know. “Daddy offered them the right price and they gave us a room.”
“Just one room?”
She rolls her eyes. “Don’t act like you’re too good to be in a hotel room with me. Ugh, Ethan. Do you want to sleep in your truck tonight, or do you want a hotel room with a shower and room service?”
When I don’t answer immediately, she actually looks offended. “There’s two beds, you asshole. I’m not trying to hook up with you or anything. Just take the free hotel room and consider it my thanks for you helping me.”
I heave a sigh. A shower and some cable TV would be nice right about now. “Okay,” I say, taking out my phone and looking up the nearest Hilton. The GPS says we can get there on small roads that aren’t too busy. It should only take twenty minutes. I walk with Kennedy out of the store, and the whole time I feel like each step I’m taking is bringing me closer to the fiery pits of hell.
Staying in a hotel room with your ex while your current girlfriend (who you love very much, by the way) is alone is probably the worst thing you can do to a girl. Well, besides cheating on her, which I would never do.
This is not sitting well with me, but what other choice do I have?
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The massive knot of guilt in my stomach loosens a little as I follow Kennedy into our hotel room. The air is cool and smells slightly like lavender. The carpeting is clean and the two beds look plush and fluffy and like the total opposite of what it felt like to sleep in my truck last night.
There’s a TV and a mini fridge and a real bathroom that’s not shared with the public. This place is so much nicer than spending a day in a parking lot. Even if Kennedy is included in the mix, this is still better.
