Nick Hollister drove his ancient Caprice Classic down the desert highway, having left his world behind only a few hours earlier. The radio was broken, and he lost himself in the reverie of the road. It was after nine, and the wind pulled the car as if to tear it from the highway and toss it into the desert.
When he saw the sign announcing a rest stop, Nick realized he was going to have to pee soon. He pulled in and parked, and jogged through the gusty wind to the brick and cement toilets and relieved himself amid the cloying stench that seems to permeate all public men's rooms. He finished and stood in front of the metal mirror, looking at himself as he washed his hands.
His eyes were red rimmed and haunted, the normally light brown irises looking like mud. He hadn't shaved, and stubble coated his cheeks and chin, making him smile ruefully, because he knew he couldn't grow a real beard even if he tried. His face was long and thin, with a strong jaw and an average nose. He used to be considered handsome, but not now. Now he just looked tired. Tired and run down, like his life.
Nick stepped from the men's room into a strong gust that made him stop and lean into it. There didn't seem to be anyone around, save the semi's, dark and dead looking, in a far off lot. Wanting to grab some coffee for the road, Nick jogged over to the enclosure that housed several coin operated vending machines.
There was a woman there, a young woman, a girl. She looked at Nick warily and he tried to look as though he was ignoring her as he put his change into the coffee machine. He could see her reflected in the plastic surface of the vending machine, watching him. She was huddled in the corner of the enclosure, seeking some small shelter from the weather. He saw that she wore blue jeans and a cream colored sweater, with a jean jacket, and black high top sneakers. Next to her was a black nylon backpack, like a kid carries their school books in. She had short brown hair, and aside from looking wind blown, she wasn't dirty or messed up. She was actually kind of pretty.
Nick took the hot waxed paper cup from the receptacle, switching hands quickly against the scalding heat. He took a sip and burned his tongue on the acrid brew that wouldn't qualify as coffee in even the cheapest dive. He turned to hurry back to his car when the girl spoke.
"Where're you headed?" she asked, not rising from her squat in the corner.
"East," Nick replied, and he stepped out into the wind and hurried to his car as quickly as he could without spilling the scalding hot coffee on his hands. He got to the car and set the cup on the roof as he fumbled with his keys, and a strong gust pushed the cup over and spilled the coffee down his windshield. Swearing, Nick got the door open and was in the process of sitting when the wind picked up again and it began to rain. Nick was half soaked by the time he pulled the door closed, and he couldn't see anything at all through the windshield as the rain pounded loudly on the roof of the car.
Nick sat for a moment, then started the car and turned on the wipers, which cleared his vision for a second or two before the rain obscured it again until the next swipe of the wipers. He turned on the headlights and she appeared suddenly, standing in front of his car. It was the girl, thoroughly soaked and standing helplessly, hugging her backpack against her body.
The sound of the rain on the roof of the car was a thunderous racket, broken only by the sound of the wipers sweeping back and forth. Nick looked at the girl, standing alone and helpless in the rain, and he leaned across the seat and unlocked the passenger door.
The First Night
They drove in silence, the heat turned all the way up to combat the soaked girl's shivers. She had taken off her jacket and tossed it in the back seat with her backpack, and in the darkness of the car Nick tried very hard not to notice that the girl's jeans looked painted on, and she had nice legs. Her sweater was tight against her body, showing off her chest, full and round and, Nick was certain, very soft and warm.
Nick was hot, but he knew the extreme heat was the only thing keeping the girl from convulsing. He knew what would help, but there was no way he was about to suggest she change out of her wet clothes, assuming there was anything in that backpack to change into.
The distraction of the pretty girl was not welcome, as the wind continued to tear at the car, and visibility was next to nil. They had been driving for nearly and hour when he saw a lighted sign in the distance, a motel, and the vacancy sign was lit. Without consulting the girl, Nick pulled in to the parking lot and turned off the engine.
"I'm going to get a room," he said, not looking at her. "If you want one you're welcome to come in with me." Without waiting for a response, Nick threw open his door against the weather and he rushed inside the office. There was one room available, a double, and Nick took it. The old man behind the desk assured him that weather like they were experiencing happened rarely, but when it did it never lasted to morning.
Nick raced back to the car and started it, driving over to the room he had rented. When he'd parked, he turned to the girl. "They only had the one room. You're welcome to share it with me, if you want."
"I'll bet," the shivering girl said sarcastically.
"Suit yourself, but you're not sleeping in my car." Nick got out and went to the door of the room, opening it and going inside. He had to close the door against the elements, but he didn't settle in, pacing slowly through the room and wondering if he was really enough of an asshole to kick the poor girl out of his car. He wanted it to be there in the morning, after all, and he didn't know anything about the girl, other than that she was very pretty. Hell, he thought bitterly, I'm lucky if she hasn't jacked it already.
Nick pulled the door open and jumped. The girl was standing only inches from him, had been almost leaning against the door when it had been closed. He stared at her for a few seconds. "Did you lock my car?" she nodded and he stepped aside so she could enter. He watched her walk over to the chair that nobody ever sat in, her soaked shoes squelching with each step, and set her backpack on it, then walk to the vanity area and wash her face and hands with hot water.
Nick felt uncomfortable, not that they were alone, strangers in a motel room, but that he couldn't think of anything better to do than watch her. Studiously ignoring her then, Nick kicked off his loafers and lay on one of the beds, reaching awkwardly to turn on the TV and flip the channels with the remote bolted to the night stand.
