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“I really appreciate this, thank you.”
“You’re welcome. You’re lucky I was driving by; cars hardly use this highway.”
He runs his hands through his hair and irons out the creases in his shirt––well, makes an attempt anyway.
“You must be freezing,” I say, turning up the heater.
“Yeah, but it’s nice and crispy and cozy in here,” he says with a smile.
We continue driving along the highway, and occasionally, my eyes wander over in his direction, where I proceed to check the guy out. Dirty blond hair, huge broad shoulders, and a chiseled jaw with just a small amount of stubble on his chin.
“Where are you headed?” I ask.
“Um, I actually don’t know. I’m not from around here. I live out of town. It was kind of a last minute, spontaneous trip.”
“Oh?” I inquire.
“Yeah. I found out that my boyfriend was cheating on me. I got angry, called him a cheating sleazeball, among other things, then I grabbed my keys and jumped in my car. I had no plan. All I wanted to do was get the hell away from him, so I started driving. I guess I must have taken a wrong turn somewhere because before I knew it, I was driving for many hours. I ended up on this highway, out in the middle of nowhere, and my tire blew out.”
“Ha,” I respond.
“That’s funny?”
“No. It’s just, the same thing happened to me, actually.”
“You’re kidding? Your girlfriend cheated––?”
“Oh, does that work much?” I cut in.
“What?”
“The tentative mention of a girlfriend that I’m supposed to correct, and yet you and I both know that you knew I was checking you out.”
“I’m usually a lot better at it. Usually, it’s a hot guy that’s driving by in the car to rescue the damsel in distress by the side of the road. Then when you step inside the vehicle, you just assume that anyone who is as good-looking as you are, is either married or has a girlfriend. I guess I must be losing my touch.”
“To clarify, no I don’t have a girlfriend. And yes, my boyfriend cheated on me. It’s the gossip of the week at the office.”
“Bastard!”
“So, how long have you been stuck out there?” I ask, quickly changing the subject.
“About thirty minutes. I tried calling for help but couldn’t get a signal out here.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty sketchy out here. You have to be in the right location. And this weather doesn’t help either.”
“I know, it’s crazy, right?” There are a few moments of silence, and he asks, “So, are you from around here?”
“Manhattan. I have a cabin in the woods, about five-and-a-half hours out of the city. I usually head up there every other weekend, the holidays, or whenever I get some free time to go away, to be honest. It’s very therapeutic. I can just let loose and be free, you know?”
“I do, actually. I wish I had my own sanctuary where I could do something like that, especially in a situation like this where I’m angry, frustrated and my body is so tense.”
He sneezes.
“Bless you,” I say.
“Thank you. How far away is the nearest hotel?”
“About another five or six miles.”
