Motion(Laws of Physics #1)(36)

But why?

To what purpose?

What are you doing, Mona? Stay on the path. Liking him is irrelevant.

My chest flared with another ache. Indigestion? I probably should have eaten something more substantial than granola.

Conclusion: I needed a healthy meal, and I needed to get control of this situation.

More precisely, after today, I needed to redouble my efforts to avoid Abram, and I needed to take care of my physical urges. Because that’s all this was really.

Embrace the null hypothesis, Mona!

Liking Abram was madness. It would never lead anywhere. Therefore, there was no decision to make. My choice was made by default. I didn’t actually like Abram. I had physical needs. Thanks to Gabby’s insidious text yesterday, I was having trouble concentrating. I thought I’d be able to wait until I made it back to California, but that wasn’t going to work. I’d have to take care of the physical urges now.

I glanced down at my form-fitting skirt hiked up to my mid-thigh. Well, not now now. More precisely, this evening now.

Maybe once that box was checked I’d stop noticing the prettiness and amber color of Abram’s eyes, and how great he smelled, and how the man chewed, and how achingly gentle and sincere he was with me when voicing his concern for my well-being, and I would be able to properly avoid him. Yes. This was a good plan. The moment we returned to the house? I was definitely going to avoid him and . . . do something.

But first, I needed to get through this expanse of highway, operating this vehicle without my license, his mother’s birthday, and the drive back to the house. After that, it would be all avoidance, all the time.

Four hours into our journey, just when a rest stop sign appeared and I was seriously close to pulling off and placing two fingers against his neck—not because I was itching to touch him, but because who wants to drive not only without a license but also with a corpse?—Abram finally stirred.

Without meaning to do so, I exhaled a large sigh, mumbling one of my anytime-phrases, “As the prophesy foretold,” and felt my shoulders relax.

In my peripheral vision, I saw Abram lift his head, rub his eyes, and peer out the windshield. “Hey. What time is it? Where are we?” His voice—deep and sleep-sandpapery—slid over me, making me sit up straighter. His voice was pleasing all the time, but newly awake Abram-voice was real nice.

But irrelevant.

“On I-94.” I cleared my throat, glancing at the car’s clock before remembering it was broken.

“What time is it?” he asked, peering at his phone where it was held suspended on the dash. “It’s after three? Did we-did you miss the turn off?”

“No. It’s still a few miles away.” I gestured to the looming green sign. “We passed Kalamazoo twenty minutes ago.”

I sensed rather than saw his stare. “Did you pull off for a while? Take a break from driving?”

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

He waited a beat, and then asked, “Is there something wrong with the car?”

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

Again, he waited a beat before questioning me further, but this time I felt a mood shift. “Then what happened? We should have been there an hour ago.” He grabbed his phone from the dash, moving his thumb along the screen. “My mom has texted me five times.”

“Your mom texted you five times?”

“Yes. Haven’t you noticed the messages?”

“Yes, but I didn’t read them or know they were from her. I hid them when they came in.”

“You didn’t read them?”

“They’re not my messages, it would have been an invasion of privacy.” I gave a weak shrug. “Why? Why did she text?”

“Lisa, we’re very late and she’s worried.” He said this like it was obvious, as though all parents worried and texted their kids when they were late. “We’ve gone a hundred and fifty miles in four hours, why are you driving so slow?”

“I don’t have my driver’s license.”

He waited, like he expected me to continue. When I didn’t, he asked, “So?”

“So, I didn’t want to get pulled over.” I glanced at him, found him staring at me. “Hey. Don’t give me that look. You’re not the one operating a motor vehicle illegally.”

“It’s not illegal to drive without a license. It’s illegal to drive if you have no license.”

Sending him a quick glare, I readjusted my hand placement on the steering wheel. “Is that some kind of riddle? If I say your name backward three times, will you drive?”

Abram barked a laugh, drawing my attention. I found him looking at me with glassy eyes, his hand over his mouth, hiding his smile while shaking his head. His shoulders shook with quiet laughter.

“You are . . .” he started, stopped, sighed, then chuckled. “I should be mad at you.”

“You’re mad at me?” I felt equal parts indignant and contrite, which was a weird, new combination for me.

“But I’m not. You are so much different than I thought you would be.”

Unsurprisingly, that had me gripping the steering wheel tighter and flailing for something to say that might sound Lisa-like.

But then I stopped flailing.