JAINA
I can't believe I freaked out. I've never had a reaction like that to cars, even when I've watched them race. There was something about the sound of the squealing tires and the sirens in the distance that was too much. It's as if I had a bucket full of noises and smells from that night and suddenly the chaos of the even tipped it over and they all came spilling out at once. I panicked.
My heart still races in my chest. I'm trying to breathe slowly to calm it without looking even more odd to the cute boy that has become my savior. I look down at Nathan's picture in my lap. I wonder what's happening to him right now. It's late, the hospital floor he is on is probably quiet for the night. This is the time that scares me the most to leave him alone. TO know that no one is in his room if something goes wrong absolutely guts me. It has made it impossible for me to sleep since the accident. I lay awake at night, counting down the minutes until I can go sit with him again. My new goal of finding out who has done this to him will cut into that watch, but I think it is equally important.
I watch as the white lines of the freeway blur as they disappear beneath the jeep. I should be nervous to ride with Elijah. I have no idea if he's a good driver, but the way he navigated us out of the crowd and the way he appears to be an expert at my car without ever having been inside it, gives me peace. The music fades into the background as I watch his strong hand grip the wheel. He's staring out the windshield, his thoughts seem to be a million miles away like mine. I wonder where they stop. Mine stop in Nathan's room. The fear that a machine will fail or a medication will be too much or not enoughâoverdose him in his helpless state or fail to cover his pain.
Elijah pushes his hair back, the lose curls falling immediately to the position they were in before. It's futile, but attractive none the less. I watch his jaw tick. He seems irritated, but not at me. His face turns to mine. Concern replaces the somber look from before.
"You ok?" he asks.
I smile, because I know I looked insane just minutes ago. He must be worried I'm going to lose it again. How embarrassing.
"Yes. Thank you for driving," I tell him.
"No problem. But just so you know..." he pauses, looking at me as if he's going to tell me something super important. I sit up in my seat and turn towards him. "I refuse to do the 'Jeep Wave.'"
Laughter bubbles up from my chest. I actually hate the jeep wave as well. It's some tradition that has jeep owners waving to each other simply because we drive a car by the same manufacturer. Silly if you ask me, but I can't stop others from doing it. And when you don't return the jeep waveâthey get offended. It's like a cult solute.
"If that's a risk you're willing to take," I joke.
"Absolutely," he says. He nods his head and returns his full attention to the road and perhaps the thoughts circling his head.
The traffic has lifted some and we are moving at a good pace, the scenery flying by my window. I lean back into my seat. The music has begun to lull me to sleep. I'm exhausted. I haven't been able to sleep, but in this moment, I can't seem to fight it any longer.
The last thing I remember is the gentle hum of the road beneath our tires and the scent of him on the sweatshirt I'm wearing.