In Love and Diplomacy

Chapter Twelve: Safety in Numbers

"I've been having a hard time adjusting
I had the shiniest wheels, now they're rusting
I didn't know if you'd care if I came back
I have a lot of regrets about that"

- Taylor Swift, "this is me trying"

Chapter Twelve 

It was dark when I woke up.

I was entirely bewildered and groggy in the passenger seat as I pushed myself up. My strained neck and shoulder didn't hesitate to let their protests be known. I'd slid into a slouched position while sleeping, but hell—it'd been a good sleep. The best I'd had all week. That was enough to fuddle any thought process I could've conjured. I was confused, thirsty, and absolutely positive the window had gifted my forehead a bright red mark.

Streetlights chased themselves over my face as I became acutely aware of a few disorienting facts. I had no idea what state we were in. I had no idea where we were going. I had no idea how long we had left to drive.

I peered around the dark car with the confused stupor of a drunk. Rolo was curled up in the backseat, asleep as I'd been only moments before, and Sterling's features were sharp in the faint light from the dashboard. My tongue was sticky in my dry mouth; my voice was only a croak. "What time is it?"

"After ten. We stopped a few times for Rolo, but he's been sleeping too, for the most part," Sterling said. I couldn't believe it; he still seemed bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, and fully alert as he drove.

"After ten? Damn."

My hand rubbed my stiff neck and painful shoulder. There was never a good way to sleep in the car. "Are we almost there?"

"Almost. You know, you could've reclined the seat to be more comfortable. It probably would've helped your neck."

I groaned, feeling more and more certain my neck was bent forever. "I'm pretty sure that's illegal while the car's moving."

Sterling's lips curved into a faint smile.

That was cute. Wait, no. No, it wasn't.

"Really?" He deadpanned.

"It's illegal! Aren't you some government contractor or something?"

Truthfully, I didn't care about that at all. After the week I'd had, I couldn't care less about the safety of a reclined seat. I was just argumentative after waking up from a nap and irritable at the suggestion. It was perfectly reasonable—but it would've been nice several hours earlier.

"I'll keep my suggestions to myself next time."

"Good," I sulked. "You do that."

I rubbed my neck as I tiredly leaned over to look out my window. Gone was the scrublands and beige desert, now startlingly replaced by large trees and dense vegetation. Process of elimination told me we were in northern California; it was the only place with that kind of forest within a day's drive. 

After a few miles of endless trees and uncomfortable silence, the car leaned, and Rolo's head perked as we slowed to exit the highway. A small, rickety sign on the side of the road was the only noticeable marker to tell where we were. The wooden post was half hidden in ivy, but it faintly read "WELCOME TO ASHLAKE" in a font I was sure had fallen out of use a few decades before.

The next few turns told me everything I needed to know.

One, we were nowhere near a city. Two, there was a good chance of getting eaten by a bear. And three—I was going to be stuck in the middle of the woods with Sterling.