She got out of the car behind him and stared at the pump.
“The directions are on it,” he said.
“Yeah, I know, I know.” She turned and looked around for the gas hatch.
“Sorry, this actually isn’t fair.” He walked further to the back of the car and opened up a hatch she hadn’t seen on the fin, made of chrome and blending almost seamlessly with the rest of the trim. Behind that was the gas cap.
“So the car is, like, complicated on top of everything else?”
“Yeah,” he said, “sorry. But now you know, and the rest will be straightforward.”
“It isn’t straightforward!”
“Okay.” He moved closer to her, and she was awash in instantaneous regret as his scent overtook her. Soap. Skin. Him.
“Hang on,” she said. “I just… I’ll swipe my card.”
“No, I’ll swipe my card.” He leaned forward and did exactly that. “Choose the kind of gas you need.”
“Which kind?”
“Premium. I don’t play with my cars. Now get the nozzle out.” He gestured to the unwieldy-looking thing stuck into the gas pump.
“Okay.” It had a lever, and she pressed it before pulling it out.
His hand was suddenly over hers. “No. Don’t do that.”
Suddenly the mid-morning sun felt unbearable. Her skin felt unbearable. Too tight and not her own, as goose bumps broke out over her body in response to the firm press of his hand over hers.
“No trigger,” he said, his voice a little softer, no less raspy, as he removed his hand from hers.
“Okay.” She released her hold on it and then went to the gas tank, figuring the gas cap out easily enough before slipping the nozzle inside.
“Now you want to lock the trigger down.”
She fumbled with it for a second, but he didn’t move back to help her. He kept his distance.
“Got it,” he said, pointing toward the numbers that were now counting upward. “Going to get snacks.”
“Okay,” she said, leaning against the side of the car and crossing her arms as she stared across the street at the rocks, twisted trees and rugged mountains.
She felt very suddenly outside her body. But at the same time very conscious of her hand, and the feeling his had left behind. Of the heat and pressure.
She reached over and traced the place he’d touched her.
Logan always made her feel so…
So uneven.
She jumped when the trigger on the gas pump popped, signaling that it was finished. Then she managed to get it put back into position herself, got the cap back on the tank and closed the hatch. She chose to focus on the triumph of having done something—admittedly simple, that most people could do—for the first time.
“I am expansive,” she said to the tumbleweed resting right against the front tire.
It did not answer.
She heard gravel crunching behind her and turned and saw him walking toward her across the gritty parking lot.
“Road snacks,” he said, holding up the bag.
