Loves Me Not

*REVISED* Chapter Twenty-two

"You're not going to tell me where we're going, are you?" I ask as I settle into the passenger seat of Charlie's pickup truck. I'm practically bouncing in my seat with excitement. Or maybe it's nerves.

"If I tell you now it will ruin the surprise." Charlie grins in my direction while keeping his eyes on the road.

"I don't like surprises. Especially the kind that happen when the sun is barely out."

He laughs as he merges onto the freeway, heading west. "Trust me, you're going to like this one."

"Unless this is an all-expenses paid trip to France, or you some how found out a way for me to become a Chief Justice on the Supreme Court without going to an Ivy League school, I highly doubt it."

His booming laughter echoes throughout the car as he looks at me curiously. "Those are some pretty high standards."

"Any other standard isn't worth having," I shrug as I look out the window.

"That sounds a lot like something my dad would say," he replies quietly.

I look up with a question already on my lips but it dies when I see the harsh lines of his jaw and the dead look in his eyes. I look out the window instead, my eyes trained on the freeway exits that signify we are no longer in East Greenbush.

"Question, how are we going to explore East Greenbush if we aren't in East Greenbush?"

He looks at me as if I'm an after thought, his pupils focusing on me a couple seconds later as a lazy grin takes over his face. I wonder what memory I must have pulled him out of.

"Oh yeah, we're not doing that." He stares down into my eyes for a few seconds before turning his attention back to the road.

I gape for a moment at his succinct and sure answer, which leaves little room for questions. But then I take the opportunity to study his features closer while he's looking away. His strong jawline is vaguely distinguishable under the scruff of his barely visible beard. His long, wavy brown hair is pulled into a messy bun on the top of his head; completely different from the free-flowing tresses he was sporting earlier.

The dim light filtering in through the windshield makes him look mischievous, yet incredibly tired. A thought flashes across my mind; out of all the things we talked about earlier, why we were even awake that late to begin with never came up. I stare at him even harder, wondering if his reasons resemble mine at all.

At that moment he looks down at me, a confused smiling painting his face. "What?"

"I was just thinking, I don't even know your last name." I soften my features as I tilt my chin up teasingly. "I mean, you could totally be kidnapping me right now! If this were a movie, I'd be the stupid girl that gets in the car driven by the attractive stranger with the pretty eyes, and then I die in a field five minutes later."

Charlie lets out a bold laugh as he shakes his head. "You think my eyes are pretty?" He bats his lashes dramatically as he peers over at me.

My eyes roll to the ceiling briefly as I push his shoulder playfully. "That's what you focus on? Not on the fact that I just accused you of being a serial killer, or even a rapist?"

"Hey!" Charlie tries to wipe the smile from his face, only succeeding in turning his grin into a peculiar frown. "I'm not a serial killer until I've killed three people!"

My eyes widen in surprise, as I can't help but laugh. Charlie chuckles, too, before changing the conversation back to one of the many random topics we never finished talking about this morning.

"So I'm sorry, what were you saying about Nutella?"

"That it's trash," I finish without hesitation.