Today, he’s barely looked at me. His only conversation has had to do with the mechanics of the trip. It’s like he suddenly has this fortress that he’s built up around himself and he’s determined to keep me out of it. I understand why I’m being weird and quiet around him, but why is he being weird and quiet around me?
A sudden, sinking realization hits me: Thad knows I’m attracted to him. He can’t know about what I got up to last night, but maybe he senses that I’m behaving strangely and he’s guessed, in an abstract, roundabout way, the reason why. And he wants to make clear in no uncertain terms that he does not see me that way and nothing is ever going to happen.
I should have seen this coming. I climbed in the man’s lap, for goodness’ sake! He probably thinks I’m some lovesick fantasist. And, okay, sure, I thought about him last night, but not because I think anything is actually going to happen. He’s attractive and he’s convenient, in that we’ve interacted recently and there was a spark between us. I think? Or maybe that’s all in my head, too. I don’t know what I’m doing with all of this. I feel hopelessly, helplessly emotionally stunted in this area of life, especially knowing how easy it seems to be for everyone else.
“You gonna tell me where we’re going, or am I gonna have to guess?”
Thad’s sudden terse words pull me out of my spiral. I blink at him in surprise, motioning to the phone in my hand. “I have the map pulled up. Don’t worry, I know the way.”
He shakes his head, looking irritated. “Will you at least tell me how long we’re gonna be driving? Which direction?”
I’m genuinely perplexed why he’s so annoyed with me. This was the way we’d agreed to do things—and frankly, he has no right to give me attitude. I’m helpinghim, not the other way around. “I know where we’re going. I’ll get us there. And I’ll make sure you don’t have any reason to leave me in a roadside gas station in the middle of Kentucky.”
He can’t even argue that one—we both know it’s something he might do. “Kentucky,” he says after a moment. “So we’re headed south?”
I feel a brief surge of panic that he might actually piece it all together and leave me behind. “Maybe. Maybe not…” Hoping to distract him, I fish around in my purse and pull out a Tupperware. “Brownie? They’re homemade.”
Yesterday was Sunday, after all, which is baking day. I think briefly about Tom at the library and how disappointed he’ll be not to see me, but that’s probably wishful thinking. If I’m not there to feed him, he’ll just hit up a vending machine.
I’d hoped the offering of chocolate would diffuse some of the tension, but if anything, Thad looks even more horrified. “You can’t eat in Kitty.”
I stare at him blankly. “I’m sorry, I can’t eat inwhat?”
“Kitty. My car.” Thad says all of this through gritted teeth, like he knows it’s a little ridiculous but he’s mad and not willing to admit it.
“Is Kitty allergic to chocolate?” I ask in a hushed tone, patting the dashboard affectionately. “Does Kitty prefer poppyseed muffins, because I have those too.”
My forced cheerfulness, and my baked goods, make no progress with his awful, terrible, no-good mood. “No crumbs in my car,” he growls, scowling at the road.
We don’t talk again until after we’ve stopped for gas about an hour later. I keep my phone in my pocket, just so he isn’t tempted to take a peek at the directions while I’m in the bathroom, but I decide to try to play nice after that. If we’re going to be stuck in the car together for another twelve hours, we can at least be civil to each other.
“I got snacks!” I announce as I approach the car, holding up my haul. “And I can take over driving for a bit, if you need a break.”
Thad, who is finishing up pumping the gas, just glares at me. “No one drives Kitty but me. And I thought we already established that I don’t want crumbs in my car.”
Wow, he’s being a delight today. I do my best to keep smiling. “No crumbs. See, I got licorice, beef jerky, and trail mix. All crumb-free.”
He looks at me dubiously. “Trail mix leaves a mess.”
“Not if you eat it carefully.” I hold up the bag to him, giving it a little shake to make it look enticing. “Salted nuts. Raisins. Chocolate chips.”
“I don’t like raisins.”
I laugh, like he’s making a joke, even though I know he’s being a grouchy complainer-pants. It’s a skill I’ve developed as a public librarian—refusing to take offense when offense is clearly intended. Sometimes just pretending that you don’t understand someone is being rude can diffuse a lot of situations, because you have to be a real monster to double down on someone who is being relentlessly pleasant to you. (It still happens, but I’ve gotten out of more than one sticky situation this way.)
“No one likes the raisins,” I reassure him. “Just eat around them.”
He grunts, but at least doesn’t complain anymore or tell me I can’t bring my snacks into the car, so I’ll take that as a win.
I understand what he’s doing. He wants it to be clear that he is not interested in me romantically. Fortunately, with the way he’s acting, that is not as much of a blow as it might have otherwise been. I only feel a little ridiculous, for having even briefly thought there might be something between us.
After we’re on the road again, both of us staring silently out at the countryside as it passes by, Thad clears his throat. “So. I did some more digging on you last night. Only seems fair play, since you were looking into my past.”
I look over at him in surprise. “Oh?” Is that the reason he’s being such a grouch today? I mentally run through what he might have found out that could make him so irritated with me. But there’s nothing. Not even a speeding ticket. I’m?—
“Squeaky clean,” Thad says, shaking his head. “Almosttoosqueaky clean. You must have gotten into trouble at some point in your life?”
He says this almost spitefully. I try not to flinch. “It’s hard to get into trouble when you’ve been on the fast track to becoming a nun since you were a toddler.”
