One Week - By Nikki Van De Car Page 0,10

opens the other eye and looks around the room. “Where's here?”

“We're at a motel,” I explain patiently. “Where I dragged your drunk ass after you made us miss our bus.”

I watch him try to work that out. “How did I make you miss the bus?” he asks. “I remember going to the bar. And…that's it. I don't even remember seeing you after we got off the train.”

“That's because people who can't hold their liquor shouldn't drink like Prohibition is coming back,” I say sweetly. I reach into the pizza box and grab a leftover slice. “Pizza?”

The Geek pushes himself semi-upright and looks at the pizza uncertainly. “I think…not.” He rubs his temples. “What time is it?”

I glance over at the alarm clock. “Seven fifteen.”

He looks at me incredulously. “And you woke me up because?”

I shrug. “We missed one bus. I have no idea what time the next one is leaving, and I'm not risking missing it. If you're not going to eat the pizza, hurry up and get moving. Unless you know when the next bus is?”

The Geek shakes his head, and immediately looks like he regrets it. “I don't know. I wasn't really thinking that clearly yesterday.” He rolls off the bed and stands—kind of wobbly, but he stands. “Let me just…figure out if I need to puke, and we'll go.” He holds on to the wall as he makes his way to the bathroom.

I hear the water running, but no heaving, thank God. He comes out ten minutes later looking much less like death.

“Okay,” he says, taking a deep breath. “So you got me here last night?”

I nod, smirking a little. He owes me.

“Right. Thanks. What's your name?”

“Bee,” I say, and silently dare him to make a comment about it, but he just nods.

“I'm Jess. Thank you, Bee, for getting me here last night.”

“You're welcome.” I try to think of ways I can milk this, but there aren't really any I can think of. Though if he starts mocking my inability to navigate train travel again, I'll shut him the hell up. “Can we go now?”

He nods. “Might as well.” He looks around the room. “Where's my duffel bag?”

Um. “I don't know,” I say.

Jess sighs heavily. “Damn.”

“Well, it's not like I could've carried you and the giant bag…” I say defensively.

“No, no,” he waves me off. “It's not your fault. I probably left it at the bar anyway. I just have no idea where that is.”

I smile with relief. I mean, it wasn't my responsibility to watch out for his bag, but I do feel kind of bad that I forgot all about it. “It's right across the street. But,” I bite my lip. “They're probably closed, don't you think?”

He frowns. “Probably.”

“We'll go check just in case,” I say comfortingly. I don't know why I'm feeling all this sympathy for the guy, but I just can't imagine losing my bag. My phone, my iPod, my wallet, my gum—I need these things. They're my security blanket. They're also all I have.

I wince as I strap my sandals on over my broken blisters, and snag a slice of pizza for the road. Jess looks like he's reconsidering whether he's going to be sick, so I don't offer again. He waits patiently while I check out, and we cross over to the bar I sat outside for so long yesterday.

Unsurprisingly, it's locked up. On the other hand, Jess's bag is lying across the doorway.

“I guess the bartender must have liked you,” I say, amazed.

“Or he didn't give a shit if my stuff got stolen,” he grumbles as he slings the bag over his shoulder. Kind of a glass-is-half-empty attitude, considering.

I limp as fast as I can, trying to keep up with Jess as we walk back up the hill to the train station. He glances down at my feet and stops. He drops his bag on the sidewalk and starts riffling through it.

“Here,” he says, and tries to hand me a pair of kind of cruddy, way too big flip-flops. “Put these on.”

“I don't think—” I begin, eyeing them distastefully.

“Your feet are bleeding,” Jess says. “And who are you looking to impress?” He waves a hand around the empty street. I shake my head and take another few steps, wincing. I look back at Jess, who continues to patiently hold out the flip-flops. All right, fine.

I actually walk even slower in the flip-flops, I have to shuffle so much to keep them on, but at least my feet don't hurt. I