“I’m sorry I ruined your plans, Storm.”
“You didn’t. Anyway, at least you make me laugh, which I haven’t done in a while. You’re all feisty and snarky, but kind of sweet and innocent, too. It’s an interesting mix. Not like most chicks I know.”
“Thanks. I think?” I smile over at him and squirm in the seat. My legs are falling asleep. I can’t even imagine how uncomfortable he must be with his long legs.
“Your legs hurt, too, Evie?”
“Yeah. It’s like constant pins and needles.”
He motions at me with his hand. “Come here.”
“What do you mean?” I narrow my eyes at him suspiciously.
“Lay against my chest like you did yesterday, and then we can both stretch our legs out. More you than me, since you’re like a frickin’ midget, but maybe we can at least be comfortable for a few minutes.”
Oh, no. No. No. No. I can’t snuggle with him all up in this backseat. Especially after seeing him with no shirt on. I’m not sure what it is, but he has some kind of strange, sensual magnetism about him. I can feel it bouncing off him like little Ping-Pong balls
He hones in on my hesitation.
“Evelyn, come on. Don’t be all uptight and shit. I’m not going to maul you. I just think we need to be a little bit comfortable. “
I know I will regret this, but I move across the seat. He has one leg bent up, leaning against the seat, so I leant back against his chest between his legs, and stretch my legs out across the bench seat. His other leg is stretched out along the floor of the back seat.
“Better?” he says, all pleased with himself.
“I suppose,” I tease. “At least my legs seem to have circulation again.” I pull the blanket up around us.
We listen to the music coming out of his phone for a while. The snow has completely covered the windshield and door windows, giving the interior of the truck a strange dim glow, which I try to think of as cozy and not scary.
“Storm... how did you know what to do yesterday? When I had a panic attack?”
He sighs the movement of his chest pushing my body up. “My little sister used to have these really bad night terrors, and that’s what my parents did to calm her down and to get her head focused again. It worked for her so I thought it was probably similar.”
Hmm. When I was younger, I went through years of therapy and that kind of solution was never mentioned. Instead, I had to sit and tell various shrinks about my feelings while they tried to figure out what kind of abuse must have happened to me to cause the panic attacks. And, of course, they never figured that out. Oh, and I tried pretty much every pill on the market for anxiety too, which only caused me to either gain weight or go completely mentally numb or both. No thanks.
“How old is your sister now?”