I rest my head on the seat and watch the dark trees pass. Despite my attempts to stay awake, at some point my tired eyes close.
19
MYLES
April 5th, 2024
Emma sleeping in my car isn’t exactly something I had on my bingo card for this year, or ever. I have to keep reminding myself I’m not imagining it. She’s huddled up with her head falling forward with every turn.
Leave it to Emma to fall asleep in the most inconvenient places. I wouldn’t be able to sleep if I were her, but she told me once she can’t control it. Her brain is always running and the second she stops moving to let herself relax, she falls asleep. It’s like clockwork.
I, on the other hand, have to have my routine. I need my bed and the hum of my fan overhead to fall asleep.
Emma’s head falls forward again, hanging in front of her like she’s one step away from suffocating herself.
Reluctantly, I reach over and push her head back until it’s resting on the side of the door. Not two seconds later it’s hanging down again.
I huff, holding her head in place.
Why am I doing this? If she wants to sleep in an uncomfortable position, I should let her. She deserves it.
I think back to the way I wanted Emma to come back to me after what had happened, and she never did. She never apologized. She never even said hi to me. It was like she’d thrown me away, and I meant nothing to her.
She grabs my hand.
My stomach flips, and lightning shoots up my arm.
Her eyes are still closed, but her fingers wrap around mine. My body goes numb. Does she know she’s touching me? Why haven’t I pulled away? Why am I searching her face to try and figure out what she’s thinking?
Her expression is soft, peaceful. She’s still pretty even though I don’t want to admit it. She was always pretty, but now she’s grown up. Her brows are more defined and her cheeks have lost their fullness from when she was little. But despite how different she looks, I can’t help but wonder if the girl I cared about is still in there somewhere. The girl who was happy and loved life. What happened that made her change and stop caring about others?
A loud honking sound brings my attention back to the road. I’m swerving in the other lane.
I jerk my hand away from Emma, causing her to slam her head against the window, and yank on the steering wheel.
Emma’s eyes fly open as she screams. “What happened?”
I straighten the car, but my heart is thumping a thousand beats per second. I almost killed us all because I was staring at her face. What is wrong with me?
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean, you don’t know? Did you forget how to drive?”
I don’t think she realizes I touched her, and I’m not aboutto confess to it. I have a feeling it’s the last thing she wants. Even though she’s next to me, it doesn’t feel like she really wants to be here.
“I, uh—there was something . . . on the road.”
“No, there wasn’t.”
“Yes, there was,” I say.
Her eyes narrow. “Do you realize how red your face gets when you lie?”
I think that only makes it redder. I can feel it from my chin to my ears, a hot flash heating up by the second.
“I know how to drive,” I say.
“If you say so.”
