I hate that yearning he’s aroused in me. Because I know that to him, this is all a joke. He’s playing into the fact that I hadn’t realized I was talking about him the entire bus ride. I bet he thinks he’s so hilarious. Ha. Ha. Such a funny prank to pretend he likes me.
I’m not falling for it.
Cringing, I remember how honest I was with him...ugh... I even said I felt a connection with his voice.
The only connection I want to feel with Tristen is my fist in his face.
Oh, I plan to rip into him about his prank. He’s not getting off easy. There’s so much I want to scream at him, but I just can’t right now. My body is in that state of limbo between alert and slumber, leaning more toward the latter.
Scrubbing a hand down my face, I instantly panic at the drool crusted at the corner of my mouth. I wipe it away, hopefully before Tristen notices.
“Good morning, sunshine.”
“Don’t.” I hold up a hand. “No talky. Coffee first.”
“Sir, can you just carry her off of the bus?”
I squint up at the strange voice, my brain still fuzzy. Nobody is carrying me anywhere.
“Not if I want to keep my hands. She’s going to get up. Right, Reese’s Cup?”
Stretching, I lift my elbow up and rotate my neck with a hiss. I glare at him through one eye, knowing he’s deliberately irritating me.
I’m still rubbing sleep from my eyes as Tristen drags me from the bus, my backpack slung over his shoulder. It’s a weird out-of-body experience, like I’m drunk but without my buzz,as I stumble behind him. My arms are limp, my feet are cement blocks, and my eyes are as dry and gritty as the Sahara.
He grabs our luggage waiting on the curb and loops the straps of my backpack around my arms as I groggily stare through him, too tired to care.
When he touches my hand, I yank it from his grip.
“Stop touching me.”
“Man, I forgot what a joy you are in the morning. Can you wake up already?”
“I am awake.”
“Then open both of your eyes.”
Oh.I peel my right lids apart and let the rest of the bus station come into focus.
“How long was I asleep?” I ask with a yawn.
“Not long enough. An hour maybe?”
Ugh. This explains why it feels like I’m dying.
“Where are we?”
“Dallas.”
Dallas? Wait...wait... A spike of adrenaline hits me, firing through me like lightning. I grab Tristen’s front in a panic. “You let me sleep past our stop?!”
He pries my fingers from his jacket one by one. “I didn’t. We’re in Amarillo, but I thought you’d need a jolt to get you moving.”
I open my mouth and clamp it closed so fast my teeth rattle. What did Granny always say to me? If you can’t say something nice, then don’t say anything at all.
Apparently I’ll be unable to talk to Tristen for the rest of the day. Or possibly ever.
Turning away from him, I slip off my bag and search through the pockets.
