The Perfect Cover (The Perfect Stranger #2) - Charlotte Byrd Page 0,26

consider going on a run, but after the heater shut off in the middle of the night, I’m too cold to even climb out from under the covers.

I also think about taking a hot shower, but when I breathe out and see the path of cold air in front of me, I can’t bear to force myself to get undressed no matter how hot the water might be.

Suddenly, the door swings open. Mac stumbles in, tripping over a chair and catching himself on the table.

I can smell the booze on his breath from across the room.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he says in a loud whisper, waking up Tyler.

“You just got back?” Tyler asks, rubbing his eyes. “Shit, it’s fucking cold in here.”

“Really?” Mac asks, taking off his coat and revealing nothing but a white T-shirt underneath.

In this early morning light, with his newly dark hair swept back, and a cigarette hanging from his mouth, he looks like James Dean.

“The heater broke,” I say. “You should probably put your jacket back on.”

“So, how did it go?" Tyler asks.

“I’ll tell you later,” Mac says, plopping down on the bed. “I just have to get some shut eye for a few minutes.”

We don’t let him.

Tyler insists on packing up our stuff and leaving as soon as possible. I agree except that I really don’t want to climb out of bed. Tyler keeps Mac awake, eventually helping him down to the car and forcing him into the back seat.

“He stayed up all night. He’ll probably sleep until the afternoon if we let him. It’s better that he does while we’re getting hundreds of miles away from this place,” Tyler says.

I like how he takes control of the situation. I was getting really tired of being the only reasonable one in this caravan.

After watching him pack all of our bags and carrying them down to the car, I put on my most comfortable leggings with a thick sweatshirt along with two other long sleeve shirts underneath and climb into front passenger seat.

By the time he pulls out of the parking lot, Mac starts to snore and my eyelids get heavy and I drift off.

We don’t drive very far the next day as everyone is feeling quite tired.

I didn’t get much sleep and apparently neither did Tyler.

Mac is too hungover to drive for long.

Instead, we stop right on the border of Texas and New Mexico at another one-star motel.

For about two hours leading up to stopping, Tyler and Mac talk about anything and everything; sports, politics, television, movies, and even art.

In case you’re wondering, Tyler likes impressionism and modern 20th-century while Mac prefers the Dutch Masters.

Apparently, there was a girl that Mac dated who was an artist and she taught him all about the history of art.

By the time we get to our next destination, I’m getting pretty sick of being the third wheel. Mac and I are actually getting along, joking around a bit, but the car trip is still not going as I had planned.

I thought that this would be a time for Tyler and me to connect and really get to know each other, but instead I’m sharing the precious time that I have with him with a third-party.

In fact, sometimes it feels like I’m the one tagging on their road trip.

We stop by a gas station to get some booze. When we get to the room, I’m not surprised to see another field out back. These motels along the interstate always seem to be surrounded by wide open spaces.

There are a few other motels and hotels along with some diners and fast food restaurants, catering to weary travelers, but that’s usually it.

No city.

No town.

Not even a shopping plaza.

There are fewer people out here, but as a result we are also more noticeable. When Tyler suggested that we stay in one of the cities we passed, I shut him down.

I don’t have a lot of money to spare and we are already spending seventy bucks a night. A motel that cheap in the city is going to be way worse than the ones along the interstate. They’ll probably even be populated with people who tend to attract police attention and that is the last thing I want, to be caught in the crossfire.

Again, I want it to just be the two of us and, again, I’m stuck sharing a room with both of them.

A part of me wishes that Mac would go away and go drinking again, but another part of me wishes