Thad: “Couldn’t say.”
So, yeah, take that and multiply it by about an hour and a half, and that’s the trip in a nutshell.
By the time we make it to Gulfport, I think both of us are desperate to get out of the car and have a moment to ourselves. Even so, Thad surprises me by stopping me before I can go inside to use the restroom. “When you come back outside, come straight to the car. Don’t go anywhere else without me.”
In all the emotional turmoil and awkwardness of the morning, it somehow keeps slipping my mind that I was almost kidnapped yesterday. I know that must sound kind of idiotic, but it feels like something that happened in a movie I saw or a book I read. It does not feel like something that could happen to me in real life. I’m just boring Helen, recreational puzzler and eater of boxed macaroni and cheese. I am not the ideal candidate for a kidnapping.
“I won’t,” I promise, offering him what I hope is a reassuring smile before I disappear inside.
At least there’s still that, I muse. Sure, it sucks that Thad doesn’t see me as an actual romantic prospect, just someone he wanted to help get some experience; but I think on some level he does care about me. At least enough that he doesn’t want me to get kidnapped. It’s a small victory, but it’s still a victory, isn’t it?
We can be friends. Maybe someday, a long time from now after the dust has settled, we’ll look back at that one time we messed around in a hotel room in Mobile and laugh about how foolish we were. The pang in my heart at the idea tells me this isn’t something that’s likely to happensoon, but…maybe someday.
When I make it back outside, I’m surprised to see Thad standing over Kitty, the hood popped open. His sleeves are pushed up as far as they can go, his hands and forearms covered with grease, and he’s swearing softly under his breath.
If I didn’t remember that we’re just friends and that nothing romantic is going to happen between us again, I might feel another pang at how sexy he looks all greased up and glistening, forearms straining, oiled muscles rippling as he moves?—
Instead I force myself to focus on the obvious problem at hand. “What’s going on? Is Kitty okay?”
Thad straightens at the sound of my voice but continues frowning down at the interior of the car. “The check engine light was flashing earlier when we were driving, but Kitty does that sometimes when she’s getting overheated. I thought after we got gas and took a break, she would be fine again, but now the car’s not starting.”
Getting stranded in Mississippi tonight might actually be worse than being stuck back in the car together. I imagine the awkwardness when we get separate rooms, the mortification at knowing he’s probably relieved to have his own space.
But that is not a particularly helpful train of thought at the moment, and I’m nothing if not helpful. It’s ingrained in my very being—Girl Scout turned sister turned librarian. I live to be of service. “Is there someone we can call? AAA, or does your insurance policy have a tow service?”
Thad runs a hand over the back of his neck, letting out a frustrated sigh. “Probably, but that’s gonna put us back at least another day.” He seems just as thrilled by that prospect as I am.
And of course. For him, this was always about finding Dean. I was stupid to ever lose sight of that.
“Hey, y’all okay?”
I turn, surprised to see two pretty, twentysomething girls approaching us. They both have bleached-blonde hair, lots of makeup, and they’re wearing similar versions of halter tops, short shorts, and platform sandals.
They look great, and it makes me feel conspicuously underdressed in my day-old sweater, underwear, and pants. In my defense, my luggagewasstolen by the mafia.
I hold up a hand against the sun so I can see them better, trying to smile. “We’re having a little car trouble.” And yes, maybe it’s a sneaky thing to do, to phrase it asweto make clear thatwe’retraveling together, even if it’s in a totally platonic capacity. They don’t have to know that, now do they? “Do you know of any mechanics nearby?”
“Oh, no!” The Southern twang is strong with these two, much more pronounced than Thad’s own muted accent. “We’re not actually from here.”
“We’re visiting from Ole Miss,” the first girl confirms. “On our way to New Orleans for spring break with some other Delta Gammas.”
Sorority girls. That makes sense, and maybe explains why they both look sort of vaguely similar, like they’re in uniform, even though they’re not.
Thad straightens, turning back to face us for the first time. He’s frowning, absent-mindedly wiping off his greased-up hands on a rag. “How far is New Orleans from here? Are there any buses that run through?”
He must be pretty desperate to get to Dean, if he’s even considering leaving Kitty behind.
Before the first girl can respond, the second gasps, clutching her friend’s arm—and staring at Thad’s face like it’s the 1960s and she’s just run into a Beatle. “Oh my God, Cassie.” To Thad, she half points, half shouts, “It’s you!Bama Bounty!”
Cassie’s jaw drops, too. “It’s you, isn’t it? Thad!”
Thad shifts uncomfortably, his eyes darting to mine. He tries to smile. “Uh, yeah. That’s me. How do you even know what that show is? It’s been off the air since you were in grade school.”
That’s an exaggeration, but not by much. The two girls giggle, clutching at each other like they can’t believe their luck. “We watch it every Friday night as a sorority. It’sourshow.”
Girl Two nods her confirmation, still giggling. “We take a drink every time you take off your shirt.”
I didn’t think it was possible, but Thad is actually blushing. “Oh,” he says, seemingly for lack of anything better to say. His gaze snags mine, and I don’t miss the sheer discomfort in his expression.
