Under the Bridge

chapter forty nine- "not wet dog"

GOING TO WALMART AT 3:30 A.M. is not something I ever anticipated doing. My mother's always been a Whole Foods kind of girl, and I've always just gone with the flow. I've never even been inside such a big store in my life, with floors so expansive that I can't see the other side. In my sights I've caught two men in all camouflage, a man in an Elmo suit, and a family with fifteen kids. 

All we came in for was a two sets of toiletries. 

Liam's fingers stay intertwined with mine throughout the whole store, even while we stand in line. As we stand beside one another, I rest my head against his upper arm, feeling the warmth of his skin against mine. My eyes flicker shut for a second, a yawn escaping my lips. His hand brushes through my hair gently, keeping me awake for a brief whisper of time. 

The sound of the checkout startles me back from my half-asleep state and I move away from Liam, insisting I pay since he covered gas and leaving almost as fast as we came.

We run back to the car, hand-in-hand to avoid the devastating cold. The wind feels like a million needles flying at my skin, like coming out of a hot shower and into your freezing bathroom. We arrive back to the parking spot in a second, and before we know it, we're on the way to the closest motel in miles. 

It's not like I expected myself to be at a Best Western with Liam, but it's not such a shocking feeling that I lose my breath. It's late, we're tired, and if we drive on this ice a selection of things might happen. Imagine it like one of those lists on tests that say, 'select all that apply.' 

They are as follows: 

1. Me, having a panic attack. 

2. Liam getting distracted by said panic attack and we crash into a tree. 

3. A car crash because of a reckless driver on the ice. 

4. A car crash because of reckless driver in the dark. 

5. The headlights stop working on Liam's car and we crash and die. 

6. We get home but my mom has arrived back for some reason and is wondering why I'm not at Hope's and why I smell like my boyfriend and McDonald's chicken nuggets. 

7. I have sex with Liam in the car. (We're both feelin' it, it's bound to happen eventually. Who knows, right?) 

8. We get into a fight about road safety and break up. 

9. A hitchhiker asks for a ride and we say yes, inviting a serial killer into the car and getting butchered. 

10. A hitchhiker asks for a ride and we say no, angering him so he pulls out a gun, shoots at the tires, and kills us. 

There are a million more things that could possibly happen, and it's only utilitarian to stay here on a low quality mattress and sleep. Liam and I get a room on the second floor (of two, so we're boujee.) I am the first one to go in, flickering on the light to see a single bed, an itchy-looking recliner, and a desk that could be older than my mom. 

My eyes find the bathroom and eye the extra shirt that Liam brought for me from his car. "Do you want to shower first, or should I?" I ask, leaning against the wall and yawning.

Liam smirks, as though he's imagining something he shouldn't, and I throw a still-packaged toothbrush at him to divert him from the insane redness in my cheeks. "Answer the question, Liam." 

He shrugs. "I don't give a shit. You go first." 

I snort. "How romantic," I draw sarcastically, reaching for the door handle. 

He rolls his eyes and winks one more time before allowing me to escape into the bathroom. 

* * * 

L I A M 

When she comes out, her long hair is damp, a failed attempt from one of those mini-hairdryers that I heard go off for about fifteen minutes. As usual, she looks great in my clothes, most specifically, my dark grey tee shirt, which hangs on her small body and allows her to look small and cute and adorable, but also stupidly sexy. 

I totally consider kissing her against the wall then and there and forgetting about the whole shower idea in the first place. 

I don't, considering I smell like ass, and I leave my sister's signed copy of her book on the bedside table. It was okay, minus the romance, the flowery language, and the whole "book" thing. Even though I've like a lot of the books Olivia has forced me to read, none of them are the same thing as, you know, movies. 

"This is a really good look for you," I comment, setting both of my hands on her tiny waist pressing my lips with hers for a lingering, toothpaste flavored kiss. 

"Wet dog is hitting the runway soon," she teases, setting a hand over my heart and brushing her lips against mine again. 

I roll my eyes. Not wet dog. More, wet hair on hot girl and the knowledge she's not wearing a bra underneath that shirt. "Finally, you're getting the model status you deserve," I wink. 

She rolls her eyes. "Go take a cold shower, sport," Olivia jabs, patting my chest before ducking away. I really like the confidence she's pulling, almost enough to make another comment and see her cheeks turn pink again. Instead, I salute her and rush into the bathroom, showering as quickly as possible in yes, cold water. 

* * * 

O L I V I A

Liam came back super quick. I had just loosely braided my hair, plugged in my phone, and taken my rightful spot on the left side, going underneath the mediocre sheets and setting my head on a pillow. The view of the parking lot is visible from here through the window. I'll have to tell Liam to shut the curtains. 

He comes back and I tell him just that, watching the muscles in his back contract as he zips them shut. When he's done turning off all the lights except for the lamp just above our bed, he slides into the spot beside me, draping a signature arm around my waist and brushing his lips against my neck. "You're so warm," he mumbles, pulling my body closer to his, as though he's already falling asleep. 

I smile. "That's cute," I whisper back, reaching up and turning off the final light. When I close my eyes, there is now no difference between when they're open and when they're not, which is unfamiliar to me, considering the high concentration of fairy lights in my bedroom. 

"I'm not cute, I'm sexy," Liam replies in a half-yawn. 

I let out a quiet laugh, the kind that's more a breath than anything. "Those two things aren't mutually exclusive." 

"I know, because you're both of them." 

I fight back a blush, instead, sinking back into his embrace. "I love you, Liam," I whisper. 

"Love you too," he replies, and I feel like I really, really, believe it. 

yikes. it's been awhile, hasn't it.