“The ferry is right on the other side.”
“So now what?” I asked.
Fox pulled the car back onto the road and flipped a U-turn. “I think there might be another way. I can give it a try before the rain gets too bad.” We drove for several minutes down a two-lane street with no other cars on the road, only us. It was amazing how fast the hurricane had stirred to life. One minute the sky was gray with light drops of falling rain, then somehow transformed into an eerie black sky with sheets of heavy rain mixed with the fierce howling of the wind. The rain was coming down so hard that it was difficult to see out of the window more than a few feet and the gusts were so strong that the car swayed against the force of it.
“Fox, I think we need to get off the road,” I said, holding tightly to the passenger door handle.
“Yeah, I think you’re right.” We both searched the area for a good place to take shelter until we happened upon a red sign flashing ‘Vacancy” in front of a little motel.
“Let’s try that place,” I suggested, pointing to the sign. It looked a little dodgy, but it still had electricity.
He pulled into the parking lot and came to a stop just under the motel’s overhang, then ran inside. After several minutes, he got back into the car with a key and drove around the building. He parked the car and together we sprinted to room 105.
Once inside, Fox pulled back the heavy curtain to look out of the window.
“I guess the hurricane is here,” he deadpanned.
I stood next to him and watched the sheets of rain cover every surface. The way the trees bent under the force of the wind and scattered loose objects along the ground was mesmerizing. I glanced over at Fox and saw that he was looking at me.
“What?” I asked, feeling slightly self-conscious. Fox quickly shook his head dismissively then returned his attention to the storm. I looked down to see that my top was nearly soaked through, making my hot pink bra completely visible through the wet, thin material.
I moved away from the window, shaking my shirt, trying to wring out some of the wetness as I plopped down onto the king-sized bed and surveyed the room. It was a standard hotel room with an awful floral-patterned bedspread, a small sitting room, and a television. I kicked off my drenched boots and tucked my feet underneath me while reaching into my huge bag and pulling out a flask full of my favorite drink… tequila. Opening it, I took a swig and offered it to Fox. He shook his head and turned back to the window.
“Ain’t this a bitch? I knew I shouldn’t have stayed another night in Columbia.” Fox frowned.
“Well, there’s no point in discussing our regrets now.” I sighed, thinking about how I could have avoided Mack’s place altogether and headed straight for the bus station yesterday. “We’re stuck here until the hurricane passes, Foxy.” I switched on the TV and found the local news station, then rested back on the bed and took a drink. My gaze shifted back to Fox as he continued to stare off into the distance. His hair was damp, and his wet t-shirt clung deliciously to his chest and shoulders. My lips suddenly felt dry so I quickly darted out my tongue, at the same time my gaze lifted to Fox’s face.
“What?” He asked with a smirk, and I knew he was mocking me from earlier. I scowled, then turned my attention back to the television. I reclined back on the bed and raised my arms above my head. After catching a whiff of myself, I crinkled my nose. I hadn’t showered since the day before, so I got up and walked into the bathroom.
“I’m going to change out of these wet clothes and maybe take a quick shower while there is still hot water,” I called over my shoulder to Fox. He grunted something that sounded like a response. The newscaster was reporting power outages in the area, so it was only a matter of time before we lost power, too. The idea of being left in a raging hurricane with no electricity made me feel a little nervous, but what was even crazier is knowing that if Fox, a complete stranger, was there, I could handle it.
What the hell was wrong with me?
I turned on the shower and waited for the water to warm up, then peeled off my clothes and stood under the stream until my head began to clear. I’d developed an unconscious habit of humming random tunes in the shower. It reminded me of how Gram would always whistle whether she was cooking, doing laundry, or reading the newspaper. I remember asking her about it.
“Gram, why are you always whistling?” I asked, not at all trying to hide my annoyance with her.
“It just makes me feel better, I guess.” She shrugged, answering in her usual sweet and calm voice. “You should try it, honey. It’ll put you in a good mood any time you are feeling down, I promise.”
I was a teenager full of anger and defiance so of course I refused to do it because it was lame, and I told her so. I never admitted that after I rolled my eyes at her crazy talk I went into my room and hummed a song quietly to myself, because I didn’t know how to whistle. It actually did make me feel better. She was right. She was always right, and Gram had never broken a promise to me.
I’d only permitted myself a few minutes of tears before pushing the memories away. Having reached my crying quota for the day, I chose a more upbeat song to hum as I used the complimentary toiletry items to wash away as much of the sorrow as I could. As soon as I stepped out of the shower, I realized that my bag was laying on the bed in the other room. After wrapping a fluffy white towel around me, I opened the door,
“Fox, will you grab my bag, please?” I asked, sticking my head out. Fox was stretched across the bed with the remote in his hand, flipping through channels.
“Sure,” Fox answered, then stood and lifted my bag by the straps. When he reached me, I held out my hand and pushed the door open wider. His eyes flickered down my towel-clad body as he held out my bag. Feeling a little devious, I extended my arm and let a corner of the towel slide down, purposely exposing one of my breasts. Fox lifted his hand as if on reflex to help me gather the towel. I gasped when the back of his hand innocently grazed my nipple.
“Sorry,” he murmured as his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. He backed away as I closed the door. I thought I saw his lips curl into a slight smile and I couldn’t resist a wicked smile of my own.
****
Two hours later, Fox and I were engaged in a highly competitive game of cards. After my shower, the motel room beca
me heavy with tension, partly because of the towel situation but also because Fox and I were complete strangers in a small room with nothing to do. I’d managed to persuade the front desk clerk, who also happened to be the owner and lived on site, to sell me a bottle of bourbon from his private stash as well as a deck of playing cards. Fox and I tried to play poker, but neither one of us were very good at it. The only other card game we could both agree that we knew how to play was War.
“I. De. Clare. War!” we shouted in unison, slapping our cards onto the table. Fox ended on the eight of hearts and I threw down the jack of diamonds.
“Boom!” I yelled. “Do it. Now. Go.” I ushered him to the door for his next challenge. Each time we’d had to engage in a war battle, meaning we both threw down cards of equal value, the rule was that the loser had to complete a dare.