Runaways ~m.c

0.7

Texas is boring so far. Every little bit we come upon another cattle ranch, but other than that it's barren. I didn't expect much honestly, but this completely defies my expectations. We're a few hours from Dallas as of now and it's been awkward.

After my meltdown he convinced me to call my mother again, and make amends. I thanked him and asked about his parents and he shut down and became harsh if I tried to ask any more than where they are from. Now I know two things about him; his name is Michael and he's from Australia. I gathered that from his accent, but confirmation is nice. He doesn't know that I know his name, and I'm sure that'll cause problems later on when he learns I looked through his stuff. I guess we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.

I unbuckle and reach in the back seat to grab my bag. I can't reach it. I crawl further back and have to straddle the console between the front seats.

"What are you doing?" Michael asks me.

"I'm getting my bag." I tell him while grabbing it. "Well actually my laptop." I unzip my bag and grasp it. I climb back into the seat and buckle up.

"You gave me a great view of your ass."

"You're an ass." I roll my eyes opening my computer. I pull up Word. I search through the documents until I find the one I want.

"What are you doing in there?"

"I write. I haven't blogged about this trip yet, so why not start?" I answer him. "I, Victoria, have been taken hostage. I have not had any water in three days and I'm-"

"Do not write that!" Michael yells, but he's laughing.

"Stare at my ass one more time and I will post it." I tell him with a short laugh. "I'm actually just starting a new segment about this trip."

"You for real have a blog?"

"I do. It's on tumblr."

"Yo, I have one of those. Maybe we follow each other! When you mentioned you had a blog a few days ago, I thought you were just fucking with me."

"I highly doubt we follow each other. Yes I really have a blog," I answer him while I'm typing. It'd be great if he went back to giving me the silent treatment just until I finished this.

"What's your user?" He asks me and I shake my head.

"What's your name?"

"Shut up." I don't have to look at him to know he's rolling his eyes at me. I continue typing and ignoring his questions. Tuning out people becomes an art when you've spent a lot of you life in a hospital conference room next to the surgical wing.

"So we've spent four nights together, and this is day five." Michael states causing me to look up from my laptop.

"Your point?" I ask him.

"I'm just saying, it's been longer than what I thought." He's not wrong. The past few days have flown by. This trip is honestly so much better than being stuck in my apartment wondering when my mom will come home. "Tori?"