“It’s got some dog hair on it but at least it’s warm and clean.”
I give him a weak smile. “This will work.”
The back seat of the extended cab is pretty big, thankfully. I haven’t been in a pick-up truck in years and I don’t remember them having these huge back seats. It must be something the newer models have.
“I’ve never been in the back of a pick-up truck before, it’s nice. Roomy.” I say because I have no idea what else to say.
He smiles his crooked smile and laughs. “Um, thanks?”
“I’m just trying to make conversation. This is really awkward.”
“Yeah, it fuckin’ is in a bad way, but looks like we’re gonna be stuck here for a while so we’re gonna have to be friends for a few days. Maybe we should start with names... What’s yours?”
“Evelyn... and you?”
“Storm”
“Storm?” I repeat. “Are you kidding me?”
“Yeah... When my mom showed my dad the ultrasound photo, he said it looked like a bunch of dark storm clouds to him, so they named me Storm.”
“It must suck to have a name you have to explain the meaning of every time you meet someone.”
“No... Not at all. I like my name. At least it’s not fucking boring like Joe or Michael.”
I think of Michael and wonder what he’s doing. If I don’t call him, he’s going to start to worry about me. Maybe he’ll come looking for me and save me from this fresh hell.
Storm leans forward and starts to take off his jacket. “This got really wet. I think it’s best if I just take it off so I don’t sit here like a sponge, huh?” He folds it up and puts it on the front seat, and then he removes his hat and pushes his sunglasses up on top of his head.
My eyes are mesmerized by him and they betray the rest of me, which is trying to get as far away from him as possible. His hair is dark brown and long, a few inches past his shoulders. On the right side, two thin sections are dyed—one purple, one white. He’s wearing a black cable knit sweater with the sleeves pushed up, and I can see tattoos covering both of his arms, from his wrists up to his shoulders. I can see the artwork extending beyond the collar of his sweater, up toward his neck. I’ve never seen anyone who looks like him before, and I’m fascinated just looking at him like an exotic zoo animal. His eyes meet mine and I quickly look away.
“What?” he asks.
“Nothing.”
“You were staring at me. Do you want to say something?”