Page 22 of Slick Trip

I was tired. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt such heavy, relentless exhaustion. It dragged at my limbs, pulling me under. Maybe it was a sugar crash—there had been a whole lot of pancakes on that plate—or maybe I was just tired because being this close to Jon was a constant reminder of what happened between us and what I’d ever meant to him.

A brat, and nothing more.

I should’ve known better than to think he’d ever want all of me. He basically pushed me away that night at the party. Like the way my body reacted tainted him too.

The shame of it was burned into me.

The moment Jon started the engine, I drifted off, sinking into a heavy darkness. His presence was the last thing I registered. When I woke up, panic flared until something warm and soothing settled over me. A familiar smell wrapped itself around me, making me hum in pleasure until I realized I was literally soothing myself with Jon’s body odor.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” I snapped, my skin oversensitive against the fabric of my seat.

“I tried. You hissed at me.” Jon sounded amused.

I glared at him. “I did not.”

“You’re an unreliable witness, considering you were asleep.”

My body felt feverish—sensitive and achy in ways I didn’t understand. Was I coming down with the flu?

“Can we stop soon? I’m hungry,” I whined.

“Grab a snack. We’ll find a motel, have some takeout, call it a night.”

“Okay,” I mumbled, surprising us both with how meek I sounded. It had to be the flu. I’d never heard of a virus that caused politeness, but there was a first time for everything.

I grabbed a chocolate bar.

“Have you changed your shampoo?” Jon asked.

“No,” I said, munching the chocolate. “Same shampoo and soap as always.”

“Really?” Jon asked, sounding so doubtful I laughed.

“Yeah.”

He glanced at me, still dubious.

“Could you google a good motel nearby?” he asked.

“No, but I can check my list,” I said, scrolling through my phone. I tried to concentrate on giving him instructions, but whatever was affecting me was getting stronger. It was a strange, fluttering tension spreading outward like it didn’t know where in my body to settle. Not only that, there was a tight pressure low in my pelvis, a sort of dull ache that made it hard to sit still. I shifted, and the movement sent a fresh spike of heat straight up my spine.

“I can’t wait to stretch my legs,” Jon muttered, trying to sit more comfortably. The movement sent another wave of his scent crashing over me, and I wanted to breathe him in until there was nothing left of me that didn’t smell like him. I wanted to burrow into his neck and curl into his lap until the world stopped being weird. It was like my body had already decided that was where I belonged, and it tried every possible trick to get there.

Back into Jon’s lap.

A horrified gasp escaped me when my brain caught up with the shenanigans of my body.

“What’s wrong?” Jon asked immediately.

“Nothing,” I said quickly. “Just thought I saw a fox. Outside. Chasing a rabbit.”

“Sure.”

The smell was getting impossible to ignore, and so was the throbbing pressure. A small, helpless whimper slipped out. I slapped a hand over my mouth, but it was too late. Jon pulled the car onto the shoulder, his expression darkening with concern.

“You’re acting weird.”

“You’re acting weird.”