“Sorry—”
“It’s okay,” he said, even though it clearly wasn’t.
“No, it’s not. You deserve better than me falling apart on you.”
“I don’t mind that. I’m…glad you told me. But you’re tired and upset and confused, and I’m…convenient. I don’t want to be convenient.”
“I get that.” Guilt and shame gathered in my gut, made me shift in my seat. The last thing I wanted was to make someone who had been so cool to me feel used. “And you’re not.”
But I didn’t move to kiss him again, not sure that would prove anything or help either of us. And when he headed back to the highway, I closed my eyes and faked sleep. Too much was churning in my head for actual sleep to claim me, my brain lurching between guilt and shame and anger over my family situation—all those regrets that had nowhere to go, and sweeter emotions that kept creeping in with memories of the near-kiss, how soft Alden’s lips had been, how much I’d wanted him in that moment. Not getting to know what he tasted like was another regret for the pile, and hell if I knew how to resolve it.
Chapter Twenty
Alden
Conrad was faking sleep. I wasn’t an idiot—I could tell by the tension in his body, the unevenness of his breath, and the careful way he’d angled himself away from me. He might suck at pretending to be asleep, but his actual emotions were much harder to read. However, no matter what he’d been feeling, he’d definitely been looking for trouble when he’d tried to kiss me.
And I still couldn’t believe I hadn’t let him. I wanted to kiss him, that much was certain. Even that glancing contact had been enough to have me craving more, more, more. But I also didn’t want to be the mistake he regretted later when he wasn’t sad and things were back to awkward between us. Casually awkward was preferable to outright avoidance. I wasn’t sure I could bear to see regret in his eyes, be one more thing he beat himself up over.
But without Conrad speaking and with only memories of the kiss-that-wasn’t to torment me, it didn’t take long before my eyes were burning, and not simply with anger for Conrad’s sake. No, I was tired.
“We need to think about stopping for the night.” I didn’t bother pretending that I was waking him up when I knew I wasn’t.
“We could switch again.” He did an exaggerated stretch, keeping his fiction of napping going. “Do an all-nighter.”
“Not prudent. If I fall asleep, who will keep you awake?” I was also concerned about his wrung-out emotional state, but I didn’t add that. I knew myself and knew how sleep could reset me after a big upset. I hoped it would work for him too. I’d do just about anything to take some of his pain away, make it hurt less. “And we promised Professor Tuttle and Professor Herrera that we’d take care of the car, not take stupid risks. We’ve already had one incident.”
“Yeah, but we could find a rest stop, sleep in the car—”
“Dangerous. Our best option is an inexpensive motel, then get an early start. I’ll set my phone this time. Can you see how far to the next motel?”
“Okay.” Defeated, Conrad huffed out a breath as he reached for my phone in the console. “Emphasis on cheap.”
It didn’t take him that long to find a suitable place at an upcoming exit. It wasn’t where we’d planned to stop, and we still had a good four hours to Denver in the morning, but the motel advertised free continental breakfast and looked clean if a bit dated from the outside. Conrad got the bags while I secured the room, and we met back up at the stairs. They were the exterior kind that led to a narrow covered walkway containing the doors leading to each room. It wasn’t my favorite style of motel by far, but it was close and cheap, so I tried not to complain.
However, when I opened the door, I couldn’t help my groan. One bed. No wonder the room had been so cheap. It wasn’t a double.
“Crap.” My anxiety started to ramp up, a shudder racing up my spine, flutters in my stomach. Apparently in no such panic, Conrad clapped me on the shoulder.
“It’ll be okay. Made it work with Jasper, and he’s a roller.” Voice full of fake cheer, Conrad approached the bed and turned one pillow sideways, the same way he had with Jasper. Except I wasn’t Jasper, and I’d spent the whole day confused and vaguely excited, drawing closer to Conrad despite my best efforts. Further, he hadn’t tried to kiss Jasper, and even if he had, they’d had me as chaperone, a built-in wet blanket.
We had just us and the kiss-that-wasn’t hanging between us, a big neon sign reminding me of what I couldn’t have. And even worse, Conrad still looked miserable—eyes puffy, skin pale, shoulders slumped. I was perilously close to volunteering to be his convenient thing, the thing that made him forget, even if only for a little while, but then he straightened as if he was zipping all his emotions up tight.