Painting Sky (25 page)

“What do you mean?”

“I,” he stammered, which increased my curiosity. “I just thought I could give you a ride home. It’s snowing and no one will let you go by yourself, but I don’t think your father would agree.” He shrugged, like it was no big deal.

Well, I was eighteen and I could make the decision on my own. Right now, it was the only way of me to go home this weekend. I missed my parents and Matilda so much that I wouldn’t complain about hours alone with Keith in a confined space.

I turned the phone on and dialed my father, while Keith waited, confused.

“Hi, Dad. Sorry, the battery died and I was cooking, so I couldn’t get to the charger right away.” I might have been eighteen, but I still needed Daddy’s money to stay in school. Keith muffled a laugh beside me.

“I found a way of getting home.” He waited for me to continue and I struggled for the right words. “Keith will take me,” I rushed saying it, almost hoping he wouldn’t hear.

It was wishful thinking. Of course he would be outraged at the prospect of his little girl driving around with a punk.

“Dad, listen, it’s the only way I can go home. It’s either that, or I don’t go.”

Almost half an hour later, after listening to advice and threats to Keith’s life, while we both sat on the couch, eating my bolognese, he agreed, and we set the time I would arrive the next day, around dinner time.

My mother was so happy that she started making plans in the background, shouting out for me to hear. Her only advice for our trip was to control the speed at which Keith would drive.

“Did you hear my mother’s speed limit?” I asked Keith after hanging up.

He laughed. “Roads also have minimum speeds. Does your mother know that?”

I shrugged, faking an innocent smile. “It’s my mother: she’s an old lady when it comes to driving.” I shrugged.

I went to bed early, feeling tired after the week I’d had. Professor Collins had given us assignments for over the holiday, but I couldn’t find the will to pick up my sketch pad.

I would have to pack it and take the assignment with me, which meant I had to have someone pose for me. The first person who popped into my mind, as soon as the professor said the words, wasn’t either of my parents, or Matilda. It was Keith. Now I could ask him, as he was going to be there.

Keith and I didn’t talk much that last day. My brother mumbled something when we gave him the news. He didn’t seem happy with the situation, but I didn’t even know why. He was the first one to say I couldn’t go by car on my own; he should have been happy someone had offered.

I would’ve been miserable without my mother’s food.

“Make sure you, at least, call home tomorrow night, as it is Thanksgiving, and our parents are paying for your college, ‘kay?” I warned Ryan, while he hugged me goodbye. He then pushed me inside the car and pulled Keith aside.

Their conversation lasted a few minutes. Ryan looked upset and he was upsetting Keith. They both argued and nodded to the car several times. I was pretty sure Ryan was talking about me.

He was such a hypocrite. He left me alone almost every night, knowing full well that Cody was away, too, which left me with just Keith. Now, for just a few hours’ drive, he was worried? I groaned to the empty space and turned the car on to start heating it. They both jumped and ended their argument.

Keith was mad for the next two hours, grumbling about my choice of music every time I changed the radio station. Then, giving up, I pulled a CD from the glovebox and shoved it in.

As soon as the song started, Keith started singing—probably without realizing it. I hadn’t heard him singing since the day I broke up with Cody. He had such an amazing voice.

After three hours, I was starting to feel tired. We weren’t even midway, and the prospect of driving much longer was tiring me, even though I wasn’t the one driving.

“You can sleep, you know,” Keith said, still upset, after my tenth yawn.

“What the hell did Ryan say to you to keep you in that mood this long?” I turned to him, crossing my arms over my stomach. He was infecting my mood.

“Nothing worth repeating,” he mumbled in response. I gave up on cheering him up.

An hour later, the real storm began. We had been driving through heavy rain and then light snow, but, when we were just two hours away from home, the car slid twice. Keith swore profoundly each time.

The second time, the first thing he did was place his arm over my chest. I was so scared that I even forgot to complain about the fact that he was feeling me up.

Keith was trying to protect me, and, even though he’d done it countless times before, with every time he’d stopped a guy from hitting on me at a party, or when he picked me up, drunk, at the club, this was the first time I realized he cared about me. It wasn’t only because I was Ryan’s sister, or Cody’s girlfriend, because no one had that reflex when the friendship was an obligation.

He stopped the car and turned it off, leaving the hazards on to warn other cars.

“We can’t continue in this weather. It’s too dangerous.”

“What are we going to do, then? Sleep here?” I looked back at the road. It was still dangerous, and another car could slip and hit us.

His hands went through his hair several times before he looked at me. “We can drive a little bit further and see if we can find a motel.” He looked scared, which was the only reason I hadn’t refused on the spot. That didn’t mean I wasn’t going to complain all the way to said motel, though.

“We can’t: my parents are expecting me. What do you mean a motel? I’m not going to sleep in a motel, especially not with you.”

He groaned, while trying to control the car in the snow. “Exactly: your parents are expecting you. If you want to get home ever again, we need to stop, Skylar.”

That shut me up.

Okay, a motel wasn’t my first choice but, as he said, I wanted to survive the night.

We stopped at the first motel we spotted. It had that shady appearance I’d seen in movies and it didn’t surprise me.

What did surprise me was the amount of cars in the parking lot. There were just a couple free spaces and Keith maneuvered the car into the spot closest to the lobby. It was still snowing and I had to gather the coat against my neck to protect me from the cold.

Keith opened the front door for me. The interior had red walls, and a strange smell, besides tobacco, which filled my nostrils. It was a mixture of grease and insecticide.

There was a line for the reception desk, which I hadn’t expected. With the cars piling up in the parking lot, though, there must’ve been a lot of people trying for a room.

The man in front of us asked for a room, paid, and met his three friends outside. They fitted this place perfectly, with long hair, leather jackets, and motorcycle helmets in hand. When I looked back, they were staring at me and smiling sickly. Keith pulled me to him while the receptionist searched his computer for empty rooms.

“I only have two rooms: one on the first floor and the other on the second,” the old, bald man said. Keith shook his head automatically.

“No, they need to be next to each other,” Keith counteracted.

The man looked bored and glanced over our shoulders to the customer who had just come inside. He looked just like the other men outside. Keith pulled me again, this time between him and the counter.

“Okay, we’ll take the one on the second floor.”

I looked back at Keith. We weren’t supposed to share the same room. I still felt a little bit relieved—the men were starting to creep me out. Keith wouldn’t be able to protect me from four or more of them, but at least I wouldn’t feel unsheltered.

Keith wasn’t pleased, either, by the way he was holding my arm. He took some bills from his pocket, paid the man, took the key, and turned me to leave, never releasing the grip on my arm.

“Stay close to me,” Keith said, before we reached the car to get our backpacks.

I snuggled against Keith all the way to the second floor. The icy wind and sideways snow was freezing me. The clientele was making me wary, to say the least.

As soon as Keith opened the door, we went inside and locked the door. The first thing that hit me was the same smell from the lobby. It was nauseating. The second thing I noticed was how cold the room was. I wasn’t expecting it to feel like Hawaii, but, it at least should have been warmer than outside.

Keith grumbled, while dropping both backpacks on the bed and turning to the heater over the door. After ten minutes of trying everything, from pushing the on button to getting up on a chair and opening the machine, itself, we gave up. We knew going to the bald man downstairs to complain wouldn’t be fruitful.

“If you’re so upset with me, you should’ve asked for two rooms,” I said, crossing my arms, after his fifth curse about this nightmare.

“And leave you downstairs alone? I don’t think so.” He turned to the heater again, kicked the chair, and continued cursing, while I tried to hug my body to keep me warm. The bed had only a white sheet and a thin blanket. It wouldn’t do much for warmth. “This place is a shit hole. Maybe I should’ve kept driving. Your brother will kill me,” Keith kept rambling.

I snorted at his train of thought. “I think Ryan would kill you if we had an accident. You did the right thing. Now we just need to figure out a way to keep us from dying of hypothermia.”

Keith stopped with his temper tantrum and focused on me and my clothes.

“How many clothes did you bring?” he asked, eying my small backpack. I hadn’t packed a single piece of clothing, since I had clothes at home: just toiletries I wouldn’t have at my parents’ house.

That’s exactly what I told Keith. It was followed by another string of curses from him.

“I brought a thermal shirt. Take it from my backpack, change into it, and put your hoodie back on. I’ll give another try with the heater.”

I took my time obeying him. I didn’t want to dress in Keith’s clothes, but I was so cold that my lips were turning purple and goose bumps were a permanent feature on my skin. The shirt was black, with no patterns or logo. I sniffed it: at least it was clean. Why I expected otherwise was beyond me, since Keith never smelled bad. In fact, he always smelled like soap, deodorant, and, sometimes, cologne.

After returning to the bedroom with a new layer of shirts, which helped just a little with the cold, I saw that Keith had given up on the heating system. He looked disappointed with himself and I felt responsible. I didn’t think he would bother this much if he was alone. I was a burden he had to put up with.

“You should call your parents to let them know we aren’t going to be there tonight.” Keith sat on the bed, looking around, upset.

I rummaged through my backpack, only to find my phone dead. I had left the charger on my bedside table.

“My phone’s dead,” I told him, panicking. My dad was going to kill me after dying with worry overnight.

“Use mine.” He threw me his cell and I dialed the number.

“Hello.” His business voice reminded me that I would need to explain whose phone this was.

“Hi, Dad, it’s me.” I sat near Keith on the bed and he turned to look at my face.

“Jane, what’s wrong. What happened? Are you okay?” He was already freaking out with the phone call.

“No, everything’s fine. My phone died, so I’m using Keith’s. I just needed to tell you that I’m not going to arrive tonight.”

“What? Why?” The worry was quickly leaving his voice, giving its place to annoyance.

“There’s too much ice on the roads. We thought it would be better to stop.” I heard some yelling on the other side, but the connection was quickly deteriorating, probably because of the storm, which was getting worse. “Dad, I can’t hear you. Did you understand?”

“I understand that punk made up your mind, that’s what I understand. Where are you going to stay?”

I nudged away from Keith, who was listening to every word. “At a motel.” I should have lied and said we were at a hotel, but he probably knew very well that, on these roads, there were only motels.

Sure enough, he yelled, “What? Jane Keaton, you are not going… if he lays a hand…” The connection was so bad that I thought it would be better to end the call. I was only wasting battery, now. My father had already gotten the message.

“I was planning on sleeping on the floor, but, without the heating, I don’t think it’s smart.” Keith got up from the bed, scratching the back of his neck, while eying the bed and rest of the space.

The only thing I’d removed was my sneakers—and my bra, when I’d dressed in Keith’s shirt. My jeans would be staying on, though—not only because of the cold room, but also because Keith would be sleeping right beside me. It wouldn’t be the first time sleeping next to him in my underwear, but the last time I’d had a fever and it hadn’t bothered me much. Somewhere, at the back of my mind, was the fact that I was single now. I didn’t think Keith would make a move, but I felt self-conscious for different reasons.

“Scoot,” he said, so I would move to one side of the bed to give him space on it. It was nine o’clock and still early, but there wasn’t anything to do, and the thin blanket was looking much more appealing by the second, even if there were some dirty spots on it. I carefully pulled the sheet between my body and the dirty cover. I just hoped the sheets were clean.

Keith stayed on his side of the bed for a few minutes before seeing that my shaking wasn’t going to subside any time soon. I was shaking the entire bed, making impossible for either of us to fall asleep.

“Come here.” He pulled me to him, gathering me in his arms. He rubbed my arms and the cold started to feel bearable.

“Th—thanks,” I stuttered between clattering teeth.

After a while, my body began heating up again and I was able to doze off, cradled by strong and warm arms.