Tris & Christina Oneshots {DIVERGENT}

No-Tell Motel

Heavily M-rated. Not terribly graphic but graphic enough. Also written in third person and contemporary. I had a little too much fun writing this.
~
The two women crossed the Illinois state line several hours ago. Tris is alarmingly dozing off at the wheel while Christina drowsily looks around in the darkened car, holding her phone they are using as a guide. For some reason, the GPS system won't track their distance anymore, so Tris is now driving aimlessly into the night, hoping to find some sort of indication of where they are.

It's too dark. Christina has no idea how long they've been driving. It feels like they've been riding past the same woods over and over again. All she knows is they got a little bit of a late start and now their trip to New York for their friend's wedding has been prolonged.

"Tris, maybe you should pull over," Christina suggests. "You might crash into something."

"Into what?" Tris asks. "There's nothing out here but fucking trees!"

Christina remains silent and locks her phone. Why couldn't this be easier? A plane would've been a much quicker and less taxing alternative to a twelve-hour drive, but their friend gave such short notice and every decent seat on every plane available was booked. Why can't the GPS just do its job? Maybe they would already be in New York.

Whatever the outcome will be, Christina doesn't care. She just wants to go home. This car is too hot and there's too much stuff cluttering the back. She's tired and doesn't have the energy to drive. Fuck the wedding, fuck the reunification between three friends, and fuck the entire weekend.

"Tris?" Christina warily asks. "If you see a motel or something, I think we should pull over. You and I can't stay awake. We need some rest."

This seems like a good idea, only Tris has no clue where they are or if they will hit a town soon.

"This was a bad idea," Tris admits, chewing her lip. "We haven't seen or heard from Shauna in how many years? Five? Six? And she calls out of the blue to say she's getting married two weeks before the wedding and wants us to be there? Why did we agree to it?"

Christina shrugs. "I don't know. Maybe because we want to reconcile or whatever? We haven't seen her since high school. What if she's doing better than us? You know she used to be kinda. . .boastful in school. What if she finds out that we're still in Chicago, living in shitty apartments in the same shitty complex, and you're working as a barista after you dropped out of college and I'm stuck taking pictures of ugly kids, just waiting for my career to take off?"

Tris snorts and her eyes roll back a bit, but she keeps steady on the wheel.

"Don't tell her you're a photographer. She might make you stand the middle of the aisle and take pictures of the whole thing, frame-by-frame. And besides, if she looks down on us, we have the advantage of throwing it in her face that we dropped everything to come hundreds of miles to her wedding," she says.

Christina laughs her bubbly laugh although she's tired and devoid of all energy. She's put too much time and energy into this trip, and that's something she's willing to mention if Shauna decides it's okay to think lesser of them because they're not exactly making it on their own with great jobs and a house.

When Tris finally drives into what looks like a small town, Christina catches a glimpse of a bright, buzzing sign across the road. She tugs on Tris's arm and points, urging her to go to it. Tris gives in and drives a little closer. It's a motel.

"Will this be some sort of cliché horror movie where we go in and get murdered?" Tris asks, more to herself than to Christina.

Christina shrugs and grabs her backpack and floral blanket. Tris parks in one of the oddly placed parking spots and gets out. She decides to just take her purse and blanket and leave the mountain of crap in the backseat for the morning. It shouldn't be too long anyway.