Highway Kismet

Lincoln, Nebraska

For the first time since I embarked on a road trip with Mitchell, I slept like a baby. The first two nights I struggled and for some reason, on the third night I slept right through. It was one of those good sleeps where you don't hear anything and are so absorbed by your dreams it feels as if you're really a part of them.

I clutched the white duvet and turned to my side, ignoring that my tank top was shifting in all directions and my short shorts were lifted so high that it practically sat as underwear. My one hand was underneath the pillow and the other was on top, one leg was stretched out and the other was sitting was in a semi-V shape.

"Mila." I heard a deep voice call my name.

I mentally swore whoever was calling my name with every single swear word I knew; I did not want to be interrupted.

"Mila, get up." The voice said again, "It's already after eleven-am."

I wondered if I sat very still and pretended not to hear, if they'd assume I was dead and leave me alone.

To my disappointment they didn't because they called my name even louder this time. "Mila, wake up!"

I groaned in my sleep, reached for the pillow next to me and placed it over my ears. But much to my dismay, the pillow was snatched away in an instant.

"We're getting late and I need to get dressed so get up and go to the bathroom so I can have some privacy." I heard that annoying voice say.

I sleepily waved him off. "My eyes are closed; you have enough privacy."

There was silence and I smiled to myself that I was finally able to sleep again. I made myself comfortable on the pillow and fell right back to sleep.

Just like how joy was around Mitchell Clarke, my sleep was short-lived too because he did the one thing that really pissed me off when I was sleeping, he pulled off the duvet and I was the type of person who could not sleep without being covered, whether it was a heatwave or a cold front, I always needed to be covered and nothing made me more mad than someone trying to wake me up by discarding my precious covers.

My eyes immediately shot open and I could feel the chill from the room air conditioner on my bare legs and exposed stomach.

"Coño!" I cursed him out loudly.

With lightning speed, he tossed the duvet back and quickly turned his back to me.

I was too sleepy to think but seconds later it hit me why did that. I looked down to see that my shorts were sitting extremely up my thighs, so high that the outer lace pattern of my underwear was visible. And just when I thought that was the worst part, I looked at my chest to see my one boob pretty much trying to leave through the balcony door. Maybe I exaggerated the last bit because my tank top was so messed up that my entire side boob was showing and exposing a tiny bit of nipple.

"Are you appropriate?" He asked.

I looked up at him with a death glare, his back was still to me and that was when I noticed that he was standing in nothing, but a towel wrapped around his waist. By the visible droplets of water on his back and his wet hair, I could tell he just got out of the shower.

"Am I appropriate?" I repeated between gritted teeth as I adjusted my clothes.

"I'll take that as a yes." He mumbled before he turned around.

If I was so mad at him, I would've been slightly taken aback at how hot he looked first thing in the morning, fresh out of the shower. His dark, wet hair was sitting unruly over his forehead, his face was slightly flushed from I presumed the hot water in the shower and the cherry on top was how toned his torso was, I noticed how the muscles on his arms flexed when he used an extra, smaller towel and dried his hair. I saw him in a towel before, but it wasn't as close at I currently was and as much as I hated Mitchell, I'd be lying if I said he wasn't hot.