Page 4

A nthony

I’m struggling to keep my eyes open.

I promised Emerson that I would be up and ready to go by six a.m., but I underestimated how tired I would be after spending half the night walking around Las Vegas and checking out the sights.

She wants to make it to Denver tonight and that’s an eleven hour drive, closer to twelve and a half with stops for food and gas.

She had let me sleep this morning while she drove and while I’d like to think she was just being nice, I have a feeling that it’s because she’s too much of a control freak to let me have a turn driving her precious car.

I mean, I like Emerson. She’s cool, a little nerdy, but I kind of dig her brand of nerdy.

She seems a little tightly wound, a little uptight, but for some reason, I can’t seem to stop checking her out.

Usually I go for the more aggressive girls.

Women who know that it’s just a one-night stand kind of thing with me. Emerson is not that kind of woman.

So why is she having this effect on me?

I push thoughts of Emerson and me tangled up in bed together from my mind and look out the window.

I had caught a few hours of sleep when we first hit the road and woke up when we were somewhere in Utah.

I hadn’t loved Emerson’s taste in music but when I woke up and found that she had switched it and was now listening to some romance audiobook, I was wishing that she would put on some of that alternative rock crap that she seems to love so much.

As the narrators drone on over the speakers, my eyes droop and drift shut. My mind flashes back to the open mic last night. I had been on fire, had the crowd roaring with laughter.

I had even seen Emerson laughing. We had sat at a table up front, one of the only ones left in the crowded Las Vegas club. She had seemed nervous when we first walked in, her bright blue eyes wide as she stared around the space.

She had ordered a glass of wine and I’m pretty sure that they had to dig to the back of the storage room to find a bottle. This wasn’t exactly the wine and mimosa crowd.

Emerson hadn’t seemed that impressed with the first few comics who went up. I had been starting to worry that she didn’t have a sense of humor.

I had ordered a beer and nursed it until it was my turn. When they introduced me, Emerson had turned to me with a wide smile, clapping enthusiastically as I climbed to my feet.

Something weird had happened to my heart at the sight of her sitting there, cheering for me. The rest of the room gave me a lukewarm reception but Emerson watched me with wide fascinated eyes as I climbed up onto the tiny stage.

Being on stage has always felt natural to me. I like being the center of attention, the class clown, the one who makes people laugh. It was only a ten-minute set and it flew by.

Every time that I looked over to Emerson, she was laughing or smiling at me. I can’t remember the last time I had someone at my show who looked at me like that. Like they were amazed and proud of me. Like they were always going to be in my corner.

A light tapping starts on the roof and I open my eyes as the rain picks up. Emerson sighs, slowing down as she leans over the steering wheel, trying to see the road better.

“Do you want me to drive? My eyes aren’t as tired,” I offer and I see her bite her bottom lip.

When she doesn’t answer after a minute, I try again.

“Or we could put on something that wasn’t designed to put us to sleep,” I suggest.

“You don’t like audiobooks?” Emerson asks.

“I know, it’s shocking isn’t it,” I deadpan and I watch as she smiles.

I grin.

She really is beautiful.

I push that thought aside, reaching for her phone to put on some music. Emerson doesn’t stop me and I scroll through her music library before I find something that surprises me.

“You like The Front Bottoms?” I ask, hitting their latest album.

The music starts to play, filling the car and I start to hum along. We’re in the middle of nowhere, nothing but desert stretching out on either side of us. The rain picks up, turning torrential and I nudge Emerson.

“There’s a little spot on the shoulder that you can park at until the rain slows down.”

She nods, inching her way over to it with the hazards on. We pull off of the two lane highway and onto the shoulder. We leave the hazards on but turn off the windshield wipers. They aren’t helping much anyway.

“How was last night?” she asks me after a minute and I glance over to her.

“It was fine. I lost twenty dollars on some slot machines and walked around for a bit. The best part was the Bellagio fountains.”

“‘Cause I was there?” she asks and the joke catches me off guard.

I let out a startled laugh, surprised to find that she can be funny, but the truth is that she’s kind of right. The Bellagio fountains were cool, but exploring and wandering around with Emerson had been the best part of Las Vegas. Besides the open mic, of course.

“Yeah, because you were there,” I say.

She smiles over at me and suddenly it hits me how intimate this is. We’re alone, cocooned in her car, the rain pouring down all around us. I search my brain, trying to figure out a safe topic to bring up.

The weather saves me though. Just as quick as the rain had started, it’s stopped.

“Did you want me to drive?” I ask again and I can see her trying not to yawn.

“Yeah, that would be great.”

We climb out of the car, switching seats and I take off down the empty highway.

Emerson and I talk about music for a little bit and she asks me about open mics tonight.

I found a few that I could try to stop by and she asks me a few questions about comedy and coming up with jokes but I can see that she’s struggling to keep her eyes open now.

I turn down the music and Emerson is asleep within minutes. I sneak a glance at her, taking in how peaceful she looks as we drive down the deserted highway.

I had been shocked yesterday when I found out the person that I had been messaging and who I had agreed to drive across the country with wasn’t some twenty-something boring guy, but a drop dead gorgeous girl who looked to be just a few years younger than me.

Copper hair, bright blue eyes, and bee stung lips. She was a total babe.

I was used to girls fawning over me and as I had stared at her over the hood of her station wagon, I had thought that she seemed interested in me.

Then I remember how it had seemed like she wasn’t going to answer me.

I’m pretty sure that she wanted to drive off without me.

Hell, she might still wish that she had driven off without me.

Why does that thought turn me on?

Emerson wakes up a couple of miles away from Denver and starts looking up hotels for us to stay at. I’m starving and I don’t really care where we sleep at. As long as it’s cheap.

“Are you hungry?” I ask as she continues to search for the cheapest place to stay.

“Starved,” she admits.

“There’s some barbecue place. Or a little Italian restaurant,” I say, reading out the signs as we pass them.

“Italian sounds good. And it will be filling since we kind of skipped lunch.”

“Sounds good to me.”

I pull off onto the off ramp and Emerson gives me directions to the restaurant. The place is only about half full and I check the time, surprised to see that it’s already almost eight o’clock.