2. Drive

 

The next thing I saw was the washed window I was leaning my head on.  It took me a few more seconds before I managed to remember where I was and how I got there – Stanley Rayver had offered me a ride home in the rain. 

It sounded more romantic than it was, on the count that I didn’t find it romantic at all, only that it’s odd, and not to mention creepy.

I straightened my position to see the road.  It wasn’t raining anymore, but it was still cloudy.

I realized I had slept for almost two hours when I glanced at my watch and saw that it was past six-thirty.  I hadn’t intended on sleeping during the ride.  A few seconds from the university to the apartment wouldn’t be enough time to conjure up drowsiness.  Although, a long drive to the southern mountains would.  Which was exactly the type of get-away I’m in right now.

Personally, I wouldn’t call it a ‘vacation’ or anything.  It’s more of a kidnapping on my part.  I stared, wide-eyed, at the street sign where the apartment is located when he passed it running a little over eighty kilometers per hour.  I shouted at him, glared at him, and even attempted to get out of the car through the window.  I also tried scaring him by pointing out that he could go to jail under the grounds of kidnapping or harassment.  He still refused to let me out, smiled, and told me, as if telling a child, to relax.

Why he’s doing this was beyond me. 

Putting aside the big picture of being taken away from familiar places and from my friends to god-knows-where against my will, some other things bothered me. 

Earlier, before I managed to take a nap, probably seeing my worried face, he reached out to touch my head.  He was more like stroking my hair than patting it.  And when he assured me that he’s not going to hurt me or anything like that, I actually believed him.

For some reason, I didn’t jerk out of his touch.  I suddenly gave up convincing him to turn around and take me home.  I simply stared out the window and waited for the sleep I lacked to come.

All of a sudden, I felt as if beside him, in the passenger seat of his car, was exactly where I belonged.  It all seemed a little too peculiar for my taste.  Not to mention, eerily romantic, somehow.  And with all these odd things that bobbed around in my head, there was only one thing I was sure of – right now, with him, I suddenly lost my ability to make sense of anything, and strangely enough, I did not question that weirdness in itself.

I couldn’t believe I could make it sound like we’d been good friends for years, when in fact, I’d only been this close to him for three-and-a-half hours or so.  Not to mention that I slept for two of those hours.

This was impossible.  I didn’t even make sense to myself anymore.

“Hey, you okay?”  I turned to face him.  His eyes were oscillating between me and the road.  He had this worried expression on his face that I really didn’t get.

I just gave him the look that said I didn’t know what he meant by asking such a question.

“You were stirring a lot.”  He resumed full focus on the road now.  “And your eyebrows, they were knitted so much.”  He turned to me for a few seconds to demonstrate how my eyebrows supposedly looked like.  I got so caught up in my own thoughts that it must’ve reflected on my face without me noticing.  “Were you thinking?”

“You can say that.”

“Well,” he left it hanging for a while before continuing.  “What were you thinking about?”

You.  But of course, I wasn’t about to blurt it out just like that.  “Just some things,” I answered as elusive as I can.

It took him a few seconds before responding.  “Oh, so you were thinking about me.”  It was a statement.  I had never met anyone as egocentric as this guy.

“You can’t just assume that every time someone tells you they’re thinking of ‘some things’, they’re thinking of you.”  I quoted the ambiguous term in annoyance and slumped in my seat.

I could see him grinning at corner of my eye.  “Yes I can.  With an answer that vague, I can assume whatever I want.  Besides, it’s the only reason I can come up with why you wouldn’t want to tell me exactly what you were thinking.”

He hit the bull’s eye.  Even I couldn’t argue with that logic.

“You’re quiet.”  It was another statement.  I wasn’t sure what he got out of stating the obvious.

“Yeah.  And your point is?”

He grinned, still looking at the road.  “It means I’m right.  You were thinking about me.”  He seemed to be happy at the thought.

I rolled my eyes.  Maybe his arrogance was starting to rub off on me.

“You know, silence usually means yes.”

“Whatever.”  I couldn’t come up with a wittier response.  Somehow, it didn’t matter that I actually agreed with him, for once.

He chuckled.  “You continue to amaze me.”

He drove towards a diner beside a gas station and turned the engine off when he got to an empty parking space.  “You must be hungry.”  He strayed away from our previous conversation.  “Let’s go grab a bite.”

I followed him out of the car and went inside the archaic-looking eatery.  My stomach grumbled when the sharp aroma of food hit my nostrils.  I wasn’t aware I was feeling hungry until then.

“Give us the usual, Greta,” Stanley told a petite girl who approached him the moment he sat down at a table.  He seemed to be a patron of the place.

The girl smiled and nodded.  She didn’t even take out a piece of paper to write the order or anything.

“You go here often?” I asked.  I thought I should indulge myself in a conversation.  It was healthier than talking to myself anyway.

“Something like that.”  He flashed a smile.  For the second time today, he looked like he was enjoying himself.

I arched an eyebrow at his weird, blissful face.  “What?”

“You’re starting a conversation.  It’s odd.”

I could not believe he just said I was acting odd.  Considering everything he had done so far, I was the one who earned the right to say it, not him. 

“You tricked me and kidnapped me.  You're holding me against my will.  You refused to take me back to my apartment, and now I’m acting weird?!”  As I stated my accusations, I got closer and closer to blowing up.

He reached across the table and placed a hand over my own.  “Calm down.”  He sounded like he was talking to a child having tantrums again.

Strangely, I didn’t feel the urge to jerk my hand out of his.  I didn’t care that I was suddenly calming down under the touch of his hand.  And so, they remained where they are – on top of each other. 

“You see?  That’s what I’m talking about!  You’re the one acting weird, not me.”  I wouldn’t let him talk me into sleeping, or anything near it, this time.

He grinned.  His golden-brown eyes were on me.  “And you’re problem is?”

I opened my mouth, then, closed it again.  I was speechless.  Personally, I found it strange, but I didn’t really have a problem with it.  At least, there was none that I could think of.

Just then, the girl, Greta, returned with a tray full of food.  I assumed it was all what Stanley ordered for us since it had two plates and two glasses.  She placed the plates and glasses down one by one, carefully balancing the tray with her other hand.  As far as I could see, she was doing a really good job at both.

“Enjoy your meal.”  She smiled before walking away.

“Dig in,” Stanley motioned for me to take the plate placed in front of me, starting with his own plate as well.

My plate had bacon, eggs, and two pieces of toasts, while his, had spaghetti.  I ate this kind of food at home.  Actually, I loved bacon and eggs and I ate them whenever I wanted.  But it felt kind of weird eating it at a diner at night.

“This is breakfast food,” I told him timidly.

He looked up from his pasta and stared at me innocently.  “I know.  But you love that food.”  It was another, unexpected statement.  I was surprised he knew what kind of food I liked to eat, let alone my favorite.

I started eating my food quietly.  Somehow, he continued to amaze me.