The leather interior of her car must have smelled this plastic-y and new when the original owner purchased the giant load of metal back in the fifties.  The car was more of a boat if she honestly thought about it.  She had been driving for so long that the road was a black ribbon winding across a rumpled grey sheet, and she didn’t really see it, not anymore.  A glance at the digital clock set into the dashboard told her that it was 3 a.m, the official witching hour.  She mused that she ought to do something to commemorate the fact that she was actually awake to see this time of night for once, and then realized that she would better serve herself - and this hour - by going to bed.
“The words are lovely, dark, and deep, but I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep,” she murmured.  Her reflection in the rearview mirror smiled bitterly at her, and she smiled back.  If she kept going, kept driving, just kept moving the other way, she would be able to forget it all.  Somewhere in the back of her head she could see Michael as she had left him, slumped over, rumpled and forlorn behind the bars of his jail cell.  He didn’t matter anymore, because he had never been hers, and when she had caught him with that bottle of alcohol she realized that she didn’t want him to be hers, that she didn’t want him at all.

That didn’t erase the pain that years of wanting had accumulated in her chest, like millstones and chains, that made it hard to breathe when she thought about it too much.

“And miles to go before I sleep,” she said to herself, and this time her smile in the rearview mirror was only wistful.

A green sign on the side of the highway told her that she had over two hundred miles to go before she made it to New Mexico.  She could see it when she closed her eyes: her friends were waiting, faces hopeful and bearing the anxiety she had heard over the phone when she called to tell them what was going on.  Her room would be cozy and clean, ready for her to fill it with all of the things in the boxes crammed into the back of her car.

The scent of burning hit her nose, and her eyes flew open.

Smoke billowed up from the hood of her car.

She screamed and jerked the wheel, but she had drifted off the side of the road already, and was headed straight into desert sand.  Red tail lights flared in the darkness ahead.  She screamed again and stomped on the brake.

Outside, someone else shouted, and then her car skidded to a halt.

She opened the door, hands shaking, and tumbled out onto the dirt.

“You almost killed me - hey, are you all right?”

A tall, black silhouette came around the side of her car.  She scuttled backwards.

“Get away!”

“I’m not going to hurt you.”  The stranger had a deep voice.  He stepped into the harsh illumination of the headlights, hands raised in a gesture of surrender.  “Looks like your car overheated.”

“Yeah.”  She pulled herself to her feet, keeping her gaze trained on him.  She dusted herself off, and moved closer to the driver’s seat.  There was a baseball bat in the passenger seat.  Her friends had yelled tips into the phone when she called to tell them she would move in with them after all, and she had promised to make the trip armed.  Half of the man’s face was lit, while the other half was completely in shadow.  It may have been her imagination, but something about him was sinister.  Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and she could see how broad his shoulders were.  He was stronger than her.  Her friend’s voice echoed in her head as she closed her fingers around the handle of the bat.

How strong will he be once he’s been kneecapped?

“My name is Steven,” he said.  “My car broke down just ahead.”

He jerked his chin in the direction of the red tail lights.

“I’m Seirra,” she returned warily.

“I promise not to hurt you,” he said.  “Can I put my hands down now?”

“Sure.”  She tightened her grip on the bat.

He looked eerie.  All she could see of him was a single sharp cheekbone, the line of his jaw, and the breadth of his shoulders.  He let his arms fall to his side.

“I haven’t been able to get any cell phone service out here.  I think it’s a dead zone.”

“The desert is like that.”

“I’m not sure what’s wrong with my car - I’m not very good with engines.  Does your cell phone have service?”  He stepped toward her.

She let out a wild, choking yell, and swung the bat him.

“Whoa!”  He scrambled backward and raised his hands again.  “I said I wouldn’t hurt you!”

“Keep your distance,” Seirra snarled, and she sounded much braver than she felt.  Damn, she thought.  I’m channeling Amber.  “I’ll get my cell phone and see if it works.  You stay back.”

He took a slow step backwards, hands still in the air.  “Okay.”

Seirra kept the bat aimed at him with one hand, like it was a rapier, and groped for her cell phone with her other hand.  She flipped it open.  No service.  She flipped it shut and shoved it into her pocket.  Then she turned to Steven, wrapping her other hand around the handle of the bat.

“I don’t have any service either.  You - you just stay with your car, and I’ll stay with mine.  A highway  patrolman will drive by eventually.”

“We’re pretty far off the highway,” Steven said.  “I’ve seen three patrol cars drive by.”
Seirra’s grip on the bat loosened slightly.  “How long have you been here?”

“About four hours.”  He tilted his head slightly, just in time for her to see his entire smile lit up by her headlights.  “I wondered if I would ever see another person again.”

Something twisted in her chest.  He had to have an utterly adorable smile, didn’t he?

His dark eyes sparkled.  “I promise I won’t hurt you.  Just put the bat down, okay?”

Seirra found herself obeying.  “You promised.  If you break your promise I - I’ll break you.”

The words sounded weak even to her ears, and it didn’t help when he started to laugh.

He fell back against the trunk of his car - and for the first time she realized how close she had come to hitting his car - clutching his ribs and laughing.

“Okay, fine, so I may not be able to hurt you as much as I threatened.”  Seirra tossed the bat into the back seat of her car, and winced when she heard it bang against a box.  She could hurt him differently if she chose, but he didn’t know that.  She studied him where he lounged against the back of his car, wearing an amused smile.  He was all long, lean legs and broad shoulders.  The sleeve of his leather jacket was sliding off one shoulder, and she could see the line of his neck, leading up to his jaw.  That spot just below his jaw - it was a pressure point, and if she poked at it hard enough she could probably make him scream.  If she nibbled at it just right, on the other hand, she could probably make him moan.

Horror curled through her, and she shoved the thought aside roughly.

“You’ve been here for four hours, huh?  You hungry?  I have food in my car.  Lots of food.  Boxes of it.”  There.  That was a safe, neutral topic.

Perhaps not.  “Hungry?”  His dark eyes gleamed.  “Actually, I am.  You don’t mind sharing?  I’d have to, you know, come closer if we’re going to share.”

“I’m going to hold you to your promise,” Seirra said, but she was already poking through her back seat for her box of food.  She turned off the engine and the headlights.

“I have a blanket.”  Steven moved around to his car and rummaged through the back seat.  Seirra watched him for a moment, fingers itching for the baseball bat, but when he straightened up he had a wad of soft-looking fabric in his arms.  He knelt and spread it down on the sand beside their two cars.  Seirra knelt beside him and set down her box of food.

“Most of it is junk food, the kind that can survive a nuclear bomb, but it’s edible.”  She fished out a bag of chips, a box of crackers, a package of cookies, and a six-pack of Dr. Pepper.  “Have what you like.”

“Thanks.  This is really nice of you - especially considering how you tried to kill me with a baseball bat earlier.”  He reached for the bag of chips and ripped it open with his teeth.

“I’ve been driving for a long time, and alone, and one of my friends is paranoid enough for a whole army.  She insisted I drive armed.  If I had been her, I would have put a bullet through your head, stabbed you a dozen times, and broken your kneecaps before you could have told me your name.”

“I’m glad it was you, then.”  He held out the bag of chips.

Seirra scooped up a handful.  “I’m on my way to move in with some friends.  They all teach at the same university, and routinely scare the hell out of the students.  I’m a bit suspicious that one of them killed off a colleague so I would have a job, but I have one now, so we’re going to live together.”

“Your friends sound a bit scary.”

“They’re actually very nice.  So...why are you stranded out here?”

“I happen to be on my way to a new job as well.  Funny coincidence.”  He popped open a soda and took a deep drink.

Seirra watched him swallow and had to swallow hard herself.

“You look...young, for a professor.”

“Thanks.”  Seirra reached for a can of soda.  She had to fumble with it in the dark a few times before she got it open.  “I think.”

“I swear, I meant it as a compliment.”  Steven twisted open an Oreo, and Seirra averted her gaze when his tongue darted out to lap up the white frosting.  He closed his eyes and moaned, and Seirra twitched.  “Mmmm, sugar.  I am eternally in debt to you.”

“It’s okay.  Consider it an apology for trying to kneecap you.”  Seirra concentrated on arranging the crackers in an interesting pattern on the blanket.  It started off as a square, but somewhere along the way it turned into a hexagon.

“Hunger really is the best spice.”  He reached for another Oreo and twisted it open.

Did he have to make eating a cookie so obscene? Seirra wondered.  The corner of her mouth turned down.

Steven peered at her through the darkness.  “Is something wrong?”

“No,” she said, and took a long pull of soda to forestall further comment.

Steven glanced over his shoulder and jumped.  “Damn.  My battery’s probably almost dead.”  He stood up and stretched, and Seirra glimpsed a strip of smooth, tanned skin where his shirt rode up.  While he was turning off his engine, Seirra took the opportunity to check her cell phone again.  Still no service.

“So...you like emo music, huh?”  Steven plopped down opposite her, and Seirra saw that he had an acoustic guitar.

She was glad it was dark, but he knew she was blushing anyway.

“Don’t be embarrassed.  I noticed it when you first fell out of your car.”

“Yeah, well...I sort of left home in a terrible mood.  The music made me feel better.”

Skepticism skirted the edges of Steven’s reply.  “Blue October’s Hate Me?”

“I did say it was a terrible mood.”

“Seeing as how we’re going to be stranded here until I don’t know when, and you provided the food, I think it’s only fair that I provide the entertainment.”  He tuned the guitar with deft hands.

“I guess that’s fair.”

“What song would you like me to play?”

A strange vindictive thrill tingled in Seirra’s mind.  “How about...The General by The Dispatch?  Ever heard of it?”

Steven smiled.  “I have.  I’m impressed that you know it.”

“Play, and I’ll sing along.”  She was once again more bold than she felt.

“All right.”

The familiar opening chords washed over her, and she relaxed.  She glanced at him, but he was focused on his playing.  She was jealous at how easily he handled the chord hammering.  His voice was deep and rough, as if he smoked.  Seirra was suddenly glad that she had spent four years as a choir geek, because she could sing well.  It took a bar or two before she managed to pitch her voice with his, but then they were stumbling over the off-rhythm lyrics and laughing.

“That song always makes me think of the Civil War,” Steven said as the last chord faded from the strings.  “That’s the only war I can think of where generals would be young, and allowed to wear a beard.”  He ran a hand through his hair, and then set about tuning the guitar again.  “I like it because it’s a simple song.  Where did you hear it?”

“I liked the band’s music from The Boondock Saints.”  It wasn’t entirely a lie, but she felt no need to go telling him about all the drama she and her friends had gone through in college.

“What song would you like next, my lady?”  He offered her a roguish grin, and she giggled despite herself.

“You pick one this time - let’s see what your taste in music is like.”

They spent the next unknown number of hours singing and laughing together.

Steven yawned and glanced at his watch.  “All right.  This had better be the last song.  I think I’m going to pass out.”

“Me too.”  Seirra glanced at the empty food wrappers and soda cans strewn across their blanket and sighed.  She couldn’t even see the road from where they were - couldn’t even hear cars passing.  Another glance at her cell phone - on which the battery was almost dead - told her what she had known for the entire night, that there was no service to be had in this technological black hole.

“In thanks for all the food, once again, I leave it to you to pick the song.”

“Dashboard Confessional’s Hands Down,” Seirra said promptly.

“More emo music?”  Steven’s tone was slightly teasing, but he obliged her anyway.

As soon as he started to sing, she regretted her decision.  The past two hours had been fun and relaxing, and she had been able to forget the stupid things in her life, like Michael and the hole-in-the-wall town she called home.

She closed her eyes and swallowed hard.  If she kept her cool, kept her emotions in check, she would come out of this encounter as happy as her friends wanted her to be when they saw her.  They would be worried, of course, that she had not yet arrived, but Megan would probably say something reasonable, suggest that Seirra had stopped for the night.  Which she had, but not in the way Megan would mean it.

The song was different, because Steven’s voice was so much deeper than Chris Carraba’s, but it twisted sharply in her chest anyway.  The surreal haze of anger and pain that had dogged her entire journey swirled into her head again, and the world around her fell away.  A black ribbon of highway stretched out in front of her, and she was screaming voicelessly from the back of her mind.  She wanted to get away, and she wanted it all to go away.  She wanted to hate them all, but she couldn’t, and the frustration burned.  If she kept driving it would all disappear.

“I have a blanket you can use to keep warm.”

Seirra’s eyes flew open.  Steven knelt beside her, holding out a blanket.

“Thanks,” she said, and moved to take it from him.

“Let me.”  He unfurled the blanket and swirled it around her shoulders before she could protest.  He leaned in and tucked the blanket under her chin, and she was hyperaware of how warm he was, of how she could feel his breath on her neck.

Finally she managed a soft, “Thanks.”

“No problem.”  He moved to stand, but wobbled slightly.

“Careful there.”  She reached out to steady him, and he caught her hand.

They froze in that bizarre tableau, him crouched low, her on her knees with one hand raised as if in prayer.

After a heartbeat or two, he lowered himself gently to his knees.  His fingers were still intertwined with hers.

“I guess you’re more tired than you thought,” she said.

“Yeah,” he breathed.

“If you want to sleep here, I can sleep in my car.  It’s actually quite comfortab-”

He tugged her close and kissed her.

His mouth was soft and warm, and he tasted faintly of spices and smoke.  The tip of his tongue flicked against hers, and something inside her exploded, as if her heart had been pierced by a shaft of light.  A gentle, delicate tingle spread out through her limbs, accentuated by the burning spots where his fingertips brushed her skin.

She clung to his shoulders and sighed when his arms wound around her waist.

“We probably shouldn’t be doing this,” she murmured, lips brushing against his.

He slid his tongue against hers, and light flashed through her again.

“You’re right.”  He smiled against the line of her throat, then pressed a kiss to the underside of her jaw.

“Really - we should stop.  We could have taken a flashlight and found the road.”

“Yeah, I know.”  He captured her mouth again.

A few minutes later they broke for air.

“What’s going to happen tomorrow, when the cops finally find our cars?” she asked.

He tugged her around and against her chest.  “You’re going to wake up in my arms.”  His lips brushed the smooth patch of skin below her ear, and she smiled.

She fell asleep with his voice in her ear as he sang softly.

“You kids having car trouble?”

Seirra came awake.  The first thing she remembered was that she was in a strange man’s arms.  The next thing she remembered was that she was supposed to be in New Mexico right about now.  Her friends must have been panicking.

“Good morning, officer.”  A deep voice rumbled through the chest pressed up against her back.  The arms around her loosened, and she pushed herself up into a sitting position.

“My car died last night,” Seirra said.  “Overheated.  Don’t get any cell phone service.”

“You’re lucky we spotted you.”  The tall man wore a highway patrol uniform.  “You drifted pretty far off the road.  Lucky you didn’t crash.”  He surveyed their picnic site with no small amount of amusement.  “I’ll radio for a tow truck.”

Seirra reached up and realized that she wasn’t wearing her glasses, which explained why the officer’s face had been so fuzzy.

“Here.”

Steven pressed her glasses into her hand, and their fingers brushed for a moment too long.

“Thanks.”  She slid them on and avoided his gaze as she pushed herself to her feet.  She ran a hand over her hair, but it wasn’t too mussed.

“No problem.”  His voice was still rough with sleep, and he wore a slow, easy smile.

Seirra turned and watched the patrolman at his car.  In the daylight, the road wasn’t that far away.  She turned back to the blanket where Steven was already cleaning up.  They packed the trash into the empty box, and then Steven picked up the blanket.  He shook it out and folded it.

They stood looking at each other for a long moment.

“You have a nice voice,” Steven said.  “I enjoyed listening to you sing.”

“Thanks.  You play the guitar really well.”  Seirra shifted her grip on the box.  “You have a nice voice too.”

Steven smiled at her and said, “I hope you escape whatever it is you’re running away from.”

She started to say “what?” but he stepped closer and kissed her.

“Sir, your agent has been looking for you.”  The patrolman’s voice sounded uncomfortably near.

Seirra tried to pull away, but Steven curled a hand around the nape of her neck and cradled her close to finish the kiss.

When he pulled away, she felt a strange sensation in her chest, a combination of hollowness and completion.

“Thank you, officer.”  Steven turned to the patrolman.

“If you’ll follow me, your agent would like to scream at you now.”  The patrolman smiled, and Steven laughed.  The two men walked away.

Seirra watched them go, for a moment, and then turned to put the box into the back of her car where it belonged.

When the first tow truck arrived, she accepted the mechanic’s offer of “ladies first.”  She climbed into the front seat of the truck and waited while the mechanic maneuvered her car onto the back.  She could see, in the rearview mirror, the amusement on the patrolman’s face while Steven listened to the radio and cringed.

“Ready to go?”  The mechanic hopped up into the driver’s seat.

“Yes.  Thanks.”  Seirra smiled at him politely.

“Just doing my job.”  The mechanic revved the engine and pulled out.

Seirra reached into her purse and flipped open her cell phone.  “How far till we get service?”

“Twenty or so miles.”
“Thanks.”  A bar of service flickered in and out.  She sighed and went to turn the phone off so she could call her friends once she got into town.  Then she noticed the new background picture.  Someone had taken it with the phone camera, badly lit, as if taken in the middle of the night.

A hand held a piece of paper, scrawled with letters and numbers.  Thanks, and a phone number.

Seirra smiled, turned the phone off, and tucked it back into her purse.  She would never call him, but that was all right.

“Was that feller a friend of yours?” the mechanic asked.

“Something like that.”