The Scars of Anatomy

36. Red Light

I shift in the driver's seat, trying my best to get comfortable, my ass numb and body stiff from the five hour drive. I blink a few times and reach for the coffee in the cup holder, gulping down the cold, remaining contents. Olivia offered to drive for a while, but I refused, letting her rest in the passenger seat after waking up at the ass crack of dawn to get ready and leave.

Glancing to my right, I catch a glimpse of Olivia adorably curled up in the passenger seat, her long hair slicked back into a ponytail, revealing the side of her face that isn't pressed to the window. Her elbow is planted on the door, her fist under her chin as her dark lashes rest against her cheeks. She tried her best to stay awake for my sake, but the blur of the scenery passing by seemed to win, lulling her to sleep.

We left her house early this morning, the day after Christmas, to head to Florida and get there just before noon, to enjoy as much sun as possible. We ended up taking her car because I only have the motorcycle, and I was not about to make the five hour drive on that thing this time of year.

Christmas just so happened to fall on the Tuesday right after finals, and I spent the holiday with her and her family, instead of locked up in my dorm like previous years. Just like Thanksgiving, spending the holiday with her family was amazing. It was literally perfect, like something straight out of one of those cheesy family Christmas movies.

I glance down at the dash to notice the needle of the gas gauge flirting with the large E, telling me we need to stop for gas. And to stretch, I think as I shift around in my seat for the umpteenth time, feeling a twinge of pain in my lower back.

I drive until I find a decent enough gas station, pulling in and filling up the tank. Locking the car doors, Olivia still asleep inside, I jog inside the small gas station to grab us some drinks and snacks, and on my way towards the cash register I pass the cheap liquor section, grabbing a bottle of the nicest wine they have, which is less than ten dollars, if that says anything. Thankfully, I don't think Olivia drinks often, if ever, so hopefully she won't notice the low end bottle. I just want to make tonight and this little vacation special.

Since last week, A.K.A. the best night of my life, I haven't been able to stop thinking about Olivia and how perfect that night was. But despite it being perfect, it was far from romantic. I can't help but think about how she deserves more, and I want to give her more. The best. She deserves flowers, candles, wine, and a decent size bed, and I'll be damned if I don't give at least that much to her. I want—need—to show her how much she means to me and how much that night meant to me, too. I'm determined to make our second time beyond perfect for her.

I walk up to the register and the man behind the counter looks zoned out, a far off look in his pale blue eyes. He's tall, rail thin, disheveled, and the scabs on his arms are a tell tale sign he's a total druggie.

I set my arm full of things down on the counter with a thud to grab his attention. His blank eyes slowly find mine and wordlessly, mechanically, he starts scanning my items.

"ID," he asks after scanning the wine, and I'm honestly surprised he bothered to ask.

I grab my wallet out of my back pocket and pull out my driver's license, handing it over. He glances at it, not even really looking. Just before he goes to hand it back, something seems to catch his eye and he snaps the little plastic card back a few inches in front of his face, examining it intently. Something actually seems to start churning in his empty brain, making me uneasy.

"Any day, pal," I snap, wondering why this crackhead is staring at my ID like that. Hopefully he doesn't have the mental capacity to remember anything about me, like my address to come murder me in the middle of the night.