Post Breaking Dawn
An Embry Call X OC
"Someone should have told me that my crush was that obviously in plain sight for anyone to see. I somehow convinced myself that I was mature about it. I thought I kept my crush mostly to myself. I thought I was...
"No, no, no..." My sweaty hands clutch the steering wheel. If I could shake some sense into my old car, I would. "Please. Not now. Please work. Just a few more miles." I practically beg, feeling like a moron for talking to the dash.
I knew I should have heated it up a bit longer. But I was the only one closing tonight, it was raining, and all I wanted was to get home. Now, I'm stuck on the side of the road in complete darkness at the dead of night. I thought I was gonna make it, but my car died right when the Washington rain cleared up.
It's a Tuesday night. No one is out. All of La Push went to bed hours ago. I'm stuck.
"Please." I whisper to my car, squeezing the wheel. I'm going to have to leave it here and walk home, which will take hours. Or sleep in the back seat overnight till tomorrow when a mechanic shop opens.
Just as I start looking for a towel or something to use as a blanket, headlights flood the road. I panic, heart jumping with worry if it's a serial killer, then relief that could be someone who could help me. But the first concern is still present in my mind. Please let it be a local, any local. I wouldn't even care if it's someone from highschool or Sam Uley with his intensity.
The closer it gets, the sooner I realize it's not a truck, which eliminates half of the res. My stomach drops, meaning it could be some stranger from out of town, and I hope it's not a murderer. My panic only spikes when the vechile slows down to a stop, pulling off to the side of the road ahead of me.
It's a van.
An old camper van from the sixties, the same era as my buggie. One of those Volkswagen transporter vans surfers love, but I lock the doors anyway. My headlights make it look as ancient as my dated car. The red paint job has faded into a rust color, the hubcaps are dusty as the windows, and it creaks as it put itself into park.
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I hold my breath as the door opens. It's clear whoever the driver is he's a big guy. It's as if he needs to unfold himself to get out of the little van. He steps into the lights, tall and big.
No, anybody but him.
Embry walks towards my car, frowning the entire walk over. He's fully dressed for once, in jeans and a thin sweater that reminds me of caramel. He stops at the window, his brows furrowing as he sees me cowering in my car. A long moment passes, then he taps his knuckle against the window, motioning me to lower it.
"Winnie," Hearing him say my name gives me chills. "Are you okay?" He immediately asks, dipping his head through the open window to take a look inside my car, his eyes dipping up and down my body, making sure I'm alright. This close I can smell the traces of the freshness of the outdoors on him, then notes of amber and tea hit my nose. I almost lean into it, almost.
"Um, yeah, I am." I pause, my face slipping when he shoots me a look. I give in, hating how my resolve breaks.
"No, my car broke down, and it won't start." I admit, hating how helpless I sound. I wish I could be productive, check under the hood and know exactly how to fix it. I can't even change my own oil.
