Baggage

Chapter Seven

        IN SPITE OF Eva's urges to continue driving through the night to whatever imaginary destination she had in mind, she and Caleb found themselves parked outside of a motel, now safely inside the Ohio border.

        They booked one of the last rooms (one that had a very distinct old cigarette smell despite the motel claiming they were smoke free).  Passing the night manager, Eva noticed the striking similarities between him and the clerk from the gas station, smiling to herself, she earned an annoyed glare from him and quickly turned her attention away.  

        Once inside the room, Caleb threw his stuff on the old couch before she could say anything.  "I'm going to sleep before you can convince me to do other insane things."

        "Whatever, Cranky Pants." She rolled her eyes before collapsing onto the bed.  It wasn't much, but still better than falling asleep on her seat belt in the car.

        "It's almost two in the morning, I'm allowed to be a little cranky."

        "Yeah, yeah, just get your beauty sleep already."

        "Rude."  But he followed her directions and ruffled through his bag in search of his pajamas.

        "I need to pee."

        "It's okay to keep some things to yourself, Eva," Caleb mumbled as she hopped off the bed and stepped around him and towards the small bathroom.

        Once the door was safely shut and he could hear the faint sound of it locking, his pajamas now enclosed in his hand, he quickly slipped off his jeans and t-shirt in exchange for the cotton pants and old shirt.

        Eva opened the bathroom door a short moment later, "Hey, Caleb, the sink's not working-" she stopped short, her mind otherwise occupied by the sight of Caleb standing by the bed, and definitely missing a shirt.

        "Uhhh . . ." Her mouth was still hanging open as Caleb finally looked up and noticed her, while simultaneously turning bright red in the face.  He quickly forced the shirt over his head and awkwardly stood there, not quite meeting her eyes.

        "Sorry," she mumbled, feeling her own cheeks turn beet red.

        "Uh, it's fine."  He scratched his head nervously.  "What were you saying?"

        "The sink.  It's, um, not working.  Like no water and such."  Eva wanted to slap herself in the face for how absolutely unintelligent she was sounding.  It's just Caleb, she reminded herself.  

        Yeah, but did you see those abs?

        Who cares? It's Caleb.        

        But where did he get those from?

        WHO CARES?

        Can pouring coffee all day get you abs?

        "Eva?" The boy in question asked her, to which Eva realized he had probably asked her something already.

        "Sorry, what?"

        "I said, should we call the night manager or do you think we can handle one night without a sink?"

        She remembered the glare he had given her when they walked in, disturbing him with that probably wouldn't be the best idea in the world.  "I think we'll manage without it."