AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Changing into some fresh clothes and fixing my hair into two braids, I pop my baseball cap on and work up the courage to just stroll into Bastian’s room.
It is empty.
Instead, I find him reading a book on the rusty table just outside his door.
He peers up from his sunglasses. I clear my throat and smile, standing near him awkwardly.
“What are you reading?” I ask, solely because I have nothing better to say.
“Parable of the Sower,” he says while looking down at the open pages.
“Oh.” I clasp my hands in front of me, putting my weight on the balls of my feet and then back on my heels. “I am not familiar with that book.”
He hums in response, one long finger resting on his temple, his thumb cradled under his chin. I notice his knuckles look raw, but do not question it as I peruse him further. His white blonde hair looks damp from the shower, a silver chain necklace rests against a gray t-shirt, and blue jeans. I let my eyes wander down and then quickly snap them back up when I realize I am staring at his bare feet. I gaze into the distance, trying to act casual, pretending I did not just react like I saw him naked.
“Where are we heading today?” he says so low I can barely catch the words before they fade into the morning breeze.
“Amboy crater?”
“Is that a question?” he replies, slowly looking up at me.
I smile tensely. “Amboy crater,” I repeat with a determined nod this time.
“Better,” he mutters before standing up and disappearing into the room.
* * *
After a quick biteat the diner close by, I slide into the driver’s seat and watch Bastian climb in beside me. With my hands already on the steering wheel, I smile wide and say, “Let us stomp the road.”
The faintest dimple appears on Bastian’s cheek but it disappears by the time he looks at me.
“Hit,” he says.
“What?”
“It’shitthe road.”
Maybe it really is amusement in his tone that I keep hearing.
“Oh.” I force a laugh, still full of nerves as usual. “Right.”
Pulling out of the motel parking lot, we fall into a, now expected, silence and I wait for his directions while he also busies himself on his laptop. Eventually, I glance over and notice Bastian has taken his sunglasses off. I do a double take, my hands gripping the wheel to steady myself when I realize his left eye is bruised.
I must have made a sound. He tilts his head my way and raises his dark brow, acting like he did not acquire a black eye from the time I left his room last night to now. Now his knuckles are looking a lot more suspicious.
But instead of saying anything, I choose to play nonchalant.
“Thought I saw something,” I say pointing to the road.
He blinks and then looks back down, effectively ending our conversation—if you can call it that.
When we arrive at our destination, I change into hiking boots, and Bastian keeps his sneakers on. I do not bother telling him otherwise.
The trail to the crater cuts through the Mojave desert and since it is early spring the wildflowers are in full bloom, a field of yellow accompanying us up the trail.
I cannot seem to stop smiling.
Two hours later, we finally reach the wide rim of the crater. I am sweaty and exhausted but somewhat exhilarated. An unfamiliar sense of accomplishment overcomes me when I take in the vastness of the desert before me.
