Emancipating Andie

“It’s okay,” he said, somewhat unsettled, but not at all from the near collision.

After a minute, Andie laughed humorlessly. “Unbelievable,” she said, gesturing at the windshield. “Why does someone become a daredevil just long enough to cut you off, but then proceed to drive like someone’s ninety-year-old grandmother as soon as they’re in front of you?”

“Are you telling me you didn’t factor shitty drivers into your travel plans?”

She pursed her lips at that, keeping her eyes on the road, and he smiled.

“When someone drives like that in front of me, you know what I usually think about that makes me feel better?”

Andie glanced over at him. “Do I want to know the answer to this question?” she asked, and he laughed.

“Think about it this way. What if this person never came out in front of you, never forced you to slow down, and you took an upcoming curve too fast and went flying off the road? Or what if your original travel speed put you in an intersection at the exact moment a truck ran a red light? Or when a little kid forgot to look both ways before crossing the road on his bike?”

Andie looked over at him, her expression taken aback.

“Maybe something bad would have happened if this guy didn’t slow you down when he did. Maybe this is your guardian angel, looking out for you.”

She stared at him for another second before she blinked quickly, bringing her eyes back to the road.

Chase kept his eyes on her for a moment before he sat back in his seat, turning his head to look out the passenger window. He really did like to believe what he had just told her; in fact, at times it was the only thing that kept him from ramming into the jack-off in front of him. But he had no idea why he had just shared that with her.

Another silence filled the space between them, and he turned to look at her, the oddest feeling coming over him as something like triumph swirled in his stomach.

Because this time, as he studied her profile, there was a tiny crescent-shaped crease at the corner of her mouth.

The faintest hint of a smile.

CHAPTER THREE

Andie sat in the driver’s seat with the windows down, a gentle breeze playing with the tendrils of hair that had worked themselves free from her ponytail. She held a pretzel to her lips, nibbling on the edge of it, her eyes combing the area and finding no trace of him.

She had never been to Richmond, Virginia before, but to her it looked like any other place. Certainly, the rest stop where they had chosen to grab snacks and use the bathroom wasn’t anything extraordinary, so she had no idea what he was taking pictures of. But as soon as they got back to the car with their food, he reached in and grabbed his camera, telling her he’d be back in a few minutes.

Andie rested her head back against the seat and glanced at the clock. It was just after two; they were making good time, she thought, surprised by the fact that eight hours had passed since they started the drive that morning.

Much to her amazement, it had gone by pretty quickly.

After the first hour, which was admittedly one of the most awkward and tense hours of her life, something had changed. That comment he made, the one about her guardian angel looking out for her, struck a nerve; she would have never expected something like that to come out of his mouth, something so optimistic, so…sweet.

And maybe it was because she acknowledged that side of him that the next seven hours were an improvement; they alternated between lulls of silence, where they’d listen to music or take in their surroundings, and little bouts of conversation. Their exchanges were very basic, all superficial, surface-type things, but still, he hadn’t said anything truly offensive since then, and not once did she feel her defenses fly up. The whole thing was—dare she use the word—bearable.

Movement in her peripheral vision caught her attention, and she lifted her eyes to see Chase walking back toward the car. His eyes were downcast as he pressed a few buttons, sca

“Hey, sorry I took so long,” he said, sliding back into the car and turning to put the camera in the backseat.

“No, it’s fine,” Andie said, watching him stretch over the seat as she started the car. She found herself looking around as they pulled back onto the road, still wondering what he saw as a photographic opportunity at this place. “So, did you get any good shots?”

Chase shrugged. “Maybe,” he said, leaning his arm on the open window and extending his hand outside, allowing it to undulate as he played with the wind. “I never know if I’ve gotten anything good until a few days later. I have to remove myself from the situation first.”

“Remove yourself from the situation?”

“Yeah. Right now I’m still seeing those things the way I saw them with my eyes, and those images get all mixed up with the pictures when I look at them.”

Andie pulled her brow together, and she heard him chuckle softly next to her.

“It’s hard to explain. It’s just easier for me to evaluate something when I’m looking at it objectively. Right now, it’s too soon for me to do that.”

Andie nodded. “No, I think I get it,” she said, and he smiled over at her before turning his attention back to his hand, riding the breeze outside like a roller coaster.

She did understand what he meant; she felt that way sometimes about her writing. There were times when she just had to walk away, to leave it for a few hours, or sometimes a few days, before she could go back to it and see if it were any good. When she was in the midst of it, she was too close to it to make any kind of rational decision.

Andie hit the button on the steering wheel to turn on the radio, and they fell back into one of their stretches of silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Every now and then, she would glance over, watching his hand out the window rise and fall on the wind as it kept tune to the music, and she couldn’t help but smile at the childlike gesture.

As she turned her eyes back to the road, a woman standing on the shoulder caught her attention. She looked to be somewhere in her thirties, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. Her hair was somewhat disheveled, pulled back in a sloppy ponytail, and as she heard Andie’s car approaching, she turned quickly and extended her arm, her thumb up in the air and a hopeful expression in her eyes.

As Andie sped past her, she lifted her eyes to the rearview, watching the woman drop her arm back to her side and shove her hands in her pockets as she continued walking up the side of the highway.

Andie chewed on her lower lip, looking back to the rearview every few seconds, watching the woman get smaller and smaller until she finally disappeared.