Heart over Brain

Part 6

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"Am I your hostage?" I say.

Unbothered by the rain, Max leans against the car with a cup of coffee in his hand in a manner models do in commercials. He could totally do one. He is so insanely hot. Tall and slender, but broad enough shoulders, and probably abs hidden beneath his shirt. And that edgy face, not typically handsome, but I just can't look away from it.

He rises an eyebrow at me. "No?"

"Is that a question or an answer?" It sounds like a question. Like he doesn't know himself what to do with me.

"Look, I can drop you off at the next bus stop or so." He lets the coffee sink and scratches at nothing behind his ear. "If you are feeling better now. I am not a monster, I won't leave you to yourself when you are not well."

"I am fine." I am. The ground beneath my feet has stopped spinning. At least for now. "Where are you going?"

"Uhm – to meet a friend."

"An accomplice? The guy who escaped with the money you stole?"

"I – uh – No. A friend I know I can trust. To stay off the radar until I can clear my name."

That sounds so shady. So typical action thriller plot. So – possible. No, wait, no. Any normal person would have gotten himself a lawyer and objected the sentence, not broken out of prison and fled. That alone is a crime, or is it not? I am not clear on laws, but it doesn't matter. Plus, he stole the car. Clearing his name is total bullshit. I can tell that much.

"I have to be back at home latest on Monday morning," I say. For that stupid exam. "And I'd love to make it there in one piece."

Max's eyes narrow. He doesn't follow what I am saying. I can't blame him, I don't know it either. I am so gone.

"Okay," he says slowly, uncertain. "That means you want to ..." He gestures for me to continue the sentence.

"Coffee would be a great start," I say.

He glances at the cup in his hand, then back at me. "I don't think that's such a good idea. You look only a moment away from a heart attack as it is, coffee won't make that better."

I cross the arms over my chest and purse my lips like a pouting child. "Coffee makes everything better."

"Coffee it is," he says and hands me his cup. "But just so we are clear, I can't take you to a hospital."

"But you can stand here like you don't have a care in the world?" I gesture at him, at the other cars in the parking lot, at the gas station with the shop keeper and the customers, the road.

He glances over his shoulder and I can see when the realization dawns on him. "Probably not."

I snort, almost laugh. What an idiot.

Maybe that is why he broke out of prison instead of getting himself a good lawyer? He is actually just stupid and doesn't know any better?

No, brain, no. Bad brain. Don't go making up excuses.

He pushes himself off the car in one swift move and opens the car door on the driver side. Before getting in he stops, tilts his head, frowns, then looks back at me. "So ... You – ?"

"I what?"

"I don't know," he says, awkwardly glimpsing anywhere but me. "You are a bit weird."

Ouch. Even my kidnapper noticed there is something wrong with me. What do I make of that?

"No offense." He hurries to add. His cheeks turn a slight shade of pink, almost like in embarrassment. "I am just not sure how to deal with that. I expected you to react in all kinds of ways, but not by calmly giving me a deadline."

Calmly? What about me looks calm to him? My heart is racing, my voice hitches on every other word, my brain is fried. What exactly about that is calm?

"I guess I'll drop you off along the way then," Max says, studying non-existing fuzz on the sleeve of his jacket, like he is waiting for me to object.

I should.

I don't.

I gulp. Nod once. And take the front seat this time.

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