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Day Seven of our road trip had included a lot of driving and goofing off. Today—Day Eight—however, sucked with a capital S. I was over it.
“I guess you could say I’m a little pissed off,” I muttered, glaring down at the map.
If I had a lighter I would light that sucker on fire without hesitation.
“Seriously, where are we?” I hadn’t seen a sign of life for miles. We were driving along some random country road in the middle of no-fucking-where Shreveport, Louisiana…or at least that’s where we’d been an hour ago. We could be in Texas now for all I knew.
Meanwhile, Dean sat beside me, completely calm.
So unfair.
I tossed the map on the floor of the car and crossed my arms over my chest.
Dean spared a glance in my direction and from the corner of my eye I saw his lips twitch with the threat of laughter. It was like he wanted me to punch him or something.
“I don’t think we’ll find our way with the map on the floor.”
“That map is the devil,” I pointed a forceful finger down at the map where it laid crumpled on the floor like a sad puppy, “and it’s full of lies.”
Dean bit his lip in an effort to contain his laughter, but it was pointless. It bubbled out and filled the air. I was too mad to find humor in this situation.
Yes, we’d gotten lost plenty of times already, but I’d reached my breaking point. This time was one too many.
“Pull over.” I declared, already reaching for the door handle.
“Wha?” He glanced at me with wide eyes.
“Pull over!”
He paled with shock but did as I asked. The car hadn’t come to a complete stop when I tumbled out and started walking.
The brakes screeched behind me and the door slammed closed.
“Willow!” His footsteps pounded behind me as he hurried to keep up.
I didn’t stop. I kept walking, head bowed.
“Willow!” His hand closed around my elbow and he spun me towards him. Our chests collided from the force and we both let out an exaggerated oomph sound. I tried to push him away, but he only held tighter. “Hey, hey,” he said softly, reaching up to hold my face between his hands. “What’s going on? Talk to me.”
“I’m frustrated.” My hands fisted at my sides, my fingernails digging into my palms. “I thought this would be fun and easy and it is sometimes, but other times it makes me so mad I can’t think straight.”
He clucked his tongue and smoothed his fingers over my cheeks, trying to calm me. “Willow, you’re overthinking things.”
“That’s easy for you to say,” I grumbled, dropping my eyes to the ground, glaring at my dirty Chucks, “you’re not the one that keeps getting us lost.”
He took my chin between his thumb and forefinger and lifted my head so I had to look at him.
“Do I look mad?”
I tried to turn away but he tightened his hold on me.
“Do I look mad?” He repeated.
“No,” I mumbled.
“Exactly, because I’m right where I want to be, here with you. I don’t feel like we’re lost. We’re just…on a journey, and maybe the path we take isn’t the easiest one, but it’s ours.”
I groaned and tried to pull away. “I hate it when you go all Yoda on me.”
