“That’s not—never mind.”
He gave a small, embarrassed cough. It was adorable. Why was he adorable?
By hour three, my nerves had settled enough for the banter to come naturally. I picked up on his conversational rhythms so easily even though we were basically strangers.
That realization should have unsettled me more than it did. Just this morning, I’d been tied to a chair in a creepy van. I should have been jumpy, hyperaware of exits and threats. Instead, my body had apparently decided Arthur was a safe variable and relaxed, which was generous of my nervous system, if deeply suspicious.
“Is this the most impulsive thing you’ve ever done?” he asked.
“No,” I said. “Once I bought a forty-dollar artisanal candle when I had, like, two hundred dollars in my account because the label said it smelled like ‘moonlit ambition.’”
“And did it?”
“It smelled like pine.”
He seemed genuinely delighted by that. The sound he made was small and surprised, like he didn’t laugh much. I had no idea why that tugged at my heart. I cataloged that reaction as concerning and moved on.
“And you?” I asked, emboldened. “What’s your most impulsive decision?”
He thought a moment. “Jumping from a high place. I didn’t think, just jumped. Probably foolish.”
“Like bungee jumping?”
“More like… leaping from a cliff to reach a passing—” He stopped abruptly. “Boat.”
“A boat?”
“Yes.”
“That’s what you were going to say?”
“Obviously.”
“I believe you.”
“You shouldn’t.”
I laughed, and his eyes softened—as if my joy was something rare he didn’t know how to handle but wanted more of.
He glanced at me then, just once, like hewas checking a gauge. “You’re still all right?” he asked. Casual tone. Not so casual eyes.
“I’m fine,” I said.
Hour five.
The road had smoothed into a long, steady stretch of highway, the sky bruised in the colors of late afternoon. Arthur kept driving with careful precision, his eyes on the road, hands on the right positions.
I shifted in my seat. “Would you mind if I turned on the radio?”
He glanced at me, brows knitting. “The… radio.”
“Yes. The thing that plays the music and the talking and the ads that make you question capitalism.”
He considered this, as if I’d asked permission to let a small animal loose in the car. “If it helps you.”
That wasn’t an answer to my question, but I’d take it.
I turned the dial.
