We drove in silence for a while. The twangy guitar started to grate on my nerves, and I searched for a station that played something heavier. Classic rock was about as good as it got on the highway in this neck of the woods.
Agent Priestley was restless. He didn’t even try to sleep, and his constant shifting around in the seat and tapping his finger on his leg started to get to me. I tried to bite back my aggravation, but it was bubbling to the surface.
No. I couldn’t let it out. I wouldn’t.
I just had to inhale deeply and smile on the exhale.
And so I did.
But it didn’t make me feel any better.
Things were eating away at me. I hated when that happened.
I didn’t want to talk to the agent, but the music wasn’t enough to keep me distracted. And on top of it, his fidgeting was getting to me, poking at me like a tag in the back of a shirt that needed to be cut out.
Not that I wanted to cut Agent Priestley.
He wasn’t all that bad. He hadn’t done anything to piss me off. He listened to directions. He let me take charge for the most part.
I still wasn’t sure about being this close to him, though. Still didn’t want this job or favor or whatever to go on for longer than it needed to.
I was even more twitchy because I felt like we were out of options. I didn’t want to take him to Nebraska. I didn’t want to open up any part of myself to him.
Suddenly, it occurred to me that I’d been so hung up on what he was trying to say about me in that statement, that I didn’t realize what he was saying about himself.
“Wait, when you said this truck makes you feel uncomfortable, were you…” I stopped talking. Was it rude to outright ask someone if they were gay? Queer? Bisexual? Or… what?
“Gay?” he shot back, eyes pointedly not looking at me.
“I shouldn’t have asked. It’s none of my business.”
“I am,” he said. His voice was deep and his tone held an edge to it that I didn’t understand. “I’m not ashamed of it and if you have a problem with it, all I ask is that you keep it to yourself.”
“Why would I…” My mouth opened and closed. I looked at him with blinking eyes for a few seconds before turning my attention back to the road.
“It’s just the way you reacted—”
“It wasn’t that,” I rushed to say. I didn’t know why, but it was really important that he understood that. “It just… no one has ever…” I huffed out a breath as my cheeks heated from embarrassment. Why couldn’t I get my words out?
“Okay,” he said, and there was a softness in his tone that made me relax. Maybe I couldn’t say the words, but he seemed to understand me.
I cleared my throat. It was time to quickly change the subject.
“What was your plan?” I asked, only now realizing that I didn’t have a clue where he was headed or how he’d ended up in that shed with no transportation.
He cleared his throat, then said, “I didn’t have one.”
“Really?” I said with shock in my tone. The agent seemed like the kind of guy who not only had a plan, but also had a backup to that plan should shit go wrong. Probably a backup to the backup. But nope, he was just out there running around like a chicken with its head cut off.
I felt his eyes on me, sharp and cutting, giving me this urge to swallow the thickness that had filled up my throat.
“Did you think I would have stayed tucked away in a rotting shed for half a day if I’d had a plan?” he asked, his tone bordering on the bitter side, but just enough to make me smirk.
“I don’t know,” I said with a loose shrug and a goofy smile, “maybe you had grand plans to fix the place up and live there. Some new slats and a fresh coat of pain and the place would have looked as good as new.”
Silence struck the cab for a good long minute. The music in the background seemed to fade away as his stare bore into me.
Then a snort echoed from his side of the cab, startling me to the point that I had to turn and look at him. His face looked a lot younger when he smiled, though it wasn’t big. There weren’t any teeth showing, and the lines around the corners of his mouth weren’t that deep.
