Addicted
“I’m starting to see it, I refuse to believe it
I’m addicted to your love
I try to resist it, it’s torture and bliss
But I’m addicted to your love”
— Marit Larsen
Though I slept for nearly an hour and a half, it wasn’t a very restful sleep. The bumps the truck rolled over and the occasional car horn jostled me from slumber more than once, and my head was at an awkward angle. Zac was still singing softly to himself, but the radio was off; the lightly tapped the steering wheel to keep the beat, his brow furrowed in concentration. I couldn’t help but watch him, his head adorably bobbing along to a melody only he could hear.
Shadows of trees passed across his face in the late-morning sun, an occasional sunlight glinting off the surface of his Ray Bans. He looked perfect. I bit my lip, itching to capture the moment as I dug my camera out of its bag. Zac seemed completely oblivious to the fact that I was even awake, much less moving around, until I clicked the shutter. The sound startled him, his eyes quickly glancing in my direction.
“You’re awake,” he commented.
With a wide grin, I let the camera gently fall from my face. “Very astute observation,” I chided, stretching a bit in the seat. “How’s the drive been?”
“Not bad,” he replied. “I’m sure it’ll be better now that you’re awake.”
I made a show of gagging at the cheesy remake he made, but didn’t acknowledge it further. Instead, I repositioned myself in the seat so I was sitting cross-legged, leaning awkwardly against the door. “What were you singing?”
Zac shrugged, tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ear. “I dunno if it’s anything, really. Just a little melody that popped in my head a little while ago.”
“Well, I like it,” I offered, refocusing my camera to snap a few more pictures of his profile.
“Good,” Zac smiled, continuing to hum his melody as he drove.
I slid my feet to the floor, straightening in the seat as an unexplainable feeling of embarrassment settling into my stomach. It was the same feeling I used to get on first dates, as if the fear I had said something stupid hung heavily in the air between us.
We drove for another hour in an uncomfortable dance of tense silence and awkward small talk before switching drivers. Behind the wheel, I was less inclined to talk to Zac, and he seemed to get the picture, occupying himself with his portable DVD player.
When finally it was Zac’s turn to drive again, we decided to keep pushing on instead of stopping for the night. I remained a passive conversationalist at best, and completely wrapped up in my own thoughts at worst. I could tell Zac was getting frustrated, but couldn’t bring myself to do or say anything about it.
It was during the longest stretch of silence yet, about eight hours into our drive, that Zac suddenly pulled off the highway; the momentum sent me sliding toward him, my body only stopped by the presence of the seatbelt. I let out a startled shriek as Zac’s arm came across my chest, pinning me between his forearm and the seat; my dad did the same thing to me when I was a little girl and we came to a sudden stop.
There was thankfully a red light at the end of the exit we had taken. I took the opportunity to extract myself from Zac and the seatbelt, sighing in relief.
“Are you OK?” The worry in Zac’s voice was apparent; it almost made me less pissed at his reckless behavior.
“I think so,” I answered. “What is wrong with you?”
Zac shrugged as the light turned green; he took a right and found a fast food restaurant to park in before answering. “I’m sorry, Ry. I just couldn’t take it anymore. I’m—“ he paused, sucking in a breath as he rubbed his eyes with his fingers. When he turned to look at me again, he had a contemplative look on his face. “I’m hungry and getting tired. I figured we could grab something to eat and switch sides?”
Suspicion bit at the back of my neck; he looked like he was holding back what he really wanted to say. In another life, I would have called him on it, lightening the mood by announcing his Libra tendency to avoid conflict should be surpassed by his need to mediate. But as much as I wanted to right then, I couldn’t bring myself to speak up.
Instead, I hopped out of the truck and silently trailed behind him into the McDonald’s. While in line, I purposefully stared at the menu, trying to look deep in contemplation just to avoid interacting directly with Zac. I managed to make it through ordering, paying, and getting to the soda machine without having to say anything to him. I was in the middle of mixing my Mellow Yellow with a little bit of Hawaiian Punch when I saw him out of the corner of my eye, just leaning against the wall off to the right.
“You can’t avoid me forever, Ryland—I’m your ride.”
My eyes shot to him, scoffing defensively. “I’m not avoiding you.” Lies.
Zac just shrugged, walking over to the soda machine to fill his cup. “If you say so.”
“I’m not!” I repeated with a little more force than was necessary.
“Ok, I believe you,” he chuckled a little, shaking his head. “Relax, Ry—you know I won’t bite unless you ask me to.” He made a dramatic wink, raising his eyebrows and nodding before blowing me a kiss.
“Ew, as if,” I turned away from him, stifling a giggle.
“I heard that,” his voice was closer than I expected it to be, and when I turned my head, he was standing right next to me. “I’ve missed hearing you laugh.”
His voice was so soft as he spoke, it sent shivers down my spine, despite the heat building in my body at its proximity to his. I shifted my weight uncomfortably from foot to foot, trying to avoid looking him directly in the eye and create space between us. We stood like that until my number was called, after which I made a bee-line for a place to sit. At least then I could focus on my food.
Zac slide into the booth across from me a few minutes later, carefully laying out his meal on the table in front of him. Out of the corner of my eye I watched him say a silent grace before he started to eat his salad.
“That’s new,” I commented.
“Hmm?” He raised his eyes to look at me as he chewed a fry.
“Grace. I’ve never seen you say it before. When did that start?”
Zac’s eyebrows knitted together. “I don’t know…a few months ago, I guess. Is that a problem?”
The way he asked made me realize I must have sounded awfully judgmental. “No, I just..didn’t realize how religious you’d become, I guess.”
“Maybe you’d know a little bit more about me if you chose to talk to me. I mean, it’s just a suggestion. If you’d rather continue making this trip awkward, I understand that.” He put another fry into his mouth, but kept his eyes on me, as if he expected me to say something in response.
I nodded, my eyes falling back to my food. “Fair enough, I suppose.”