Free A Love Story Starring My Dead Best Friend by Emily Horner

the nights were still cold, and the rain wouldn’t do me any good.
    I ducked outside of the tent and saw the road running past, the headlights of cars. Rain was pouring down, and as the cars rushed by their tires spun up torrents of rain onto the side of the road, right where the tent was—right up between the walls of the tent and the ground-sheet. And somehow I hadn’t even thought about how far I was from the road, or getting up to higher ground. I crawled back inside to pack my sleeping bag and try to make a plan. Bloomington, only a couple of miles away. A motel. I had enough money for that.
    The bicycle seat was soaking wet, and in the rain, the fenders weren’t much help when my tires flung up water onto the pants I’d gone to sleep in, but I was already so wet nothing would make a difference. I turned on every headlight and taillight I had until I was in full Christmas tree mode, and from then on into the city, there was nothing but a constant stream of whispered prayer to anybody who’d listen, please don’t let me be run over please don’t let me be run over please don’t let me be run over.
    I counted eight honks, three blaring horns, and two screaming curses by the time I got to the first motel I could find, and my heart was hammering in my chest, but all I could think was, It’s going to be all right now.
    “We’re full,” said the guy behind the counter. He looked like he hadn’t slept in a week, or shaved in about that long.
    “I don’t even need a real room or anything, I just—I’m totally soaked. I’ll hang out in the hallway until morning.”
    I wrung out the bottom edge my T-shirt and let the water puddle onto the floor.
    “I’d like to help you out, but there are rules about this kind of thing.”
    “Dammit.” And then: “Sorry. I didn’t say that.”
    A shape I hadn’t even noticed rose from the couch. Skinny guy, long hair, with an instrument case slung on his back.
    “You too?” he said.
    I shook the water off of my hair and made my way over to the couch, keeping my distance enough that I wasn’t dripping on anything.
    “I am perfectly fine,” I said. It came out sarcastic, though, and then I couldn’t help but laugh. “For certain values of fine.”
    “And two and two is five, for certain values of two,” he said, and I smiled again, because what were the odds that a complete stranger would be telling me a math joke?
    “You don’t have a room either?”
    “I do. It’s just that there are people in it at the moment who do not need anyone to disturb them.” He rolled his eyes dramatically, and I nodded. Yeah, I had some idea of what that was like.
    He brightened. “Hey. I do have a hallway. And a bathroom, which has a hair dryer in it and everything. And I must have a spare T-shirt lying around somewhere, so—” He went over to the elevator and took a backward step inside. “Coming?”
    “No,” I said. “I’m not really that stupid, am I?”
    He kept his hand on the door, holding it open. I looked back at the guy at the desk, who just shrugged apathetically as if I was no longer his problem.
    I thought of going back out into the storm, where I could skid, or a car could skid, or I could go unnoticed just long enough to wind up spattered on the asphalt. There was no smart or safe thing for me to do. I might as well choose warmth.
    “Okay,” I said. “Guess I am that stupid.”
    He gave the room door a couple of halfhearted knocks, then opened it with his key card and herded me into the bathroom, with his hand over my eyes.
    “Hey. What exactly—”
    “Just stay here a sec.”
    I was not going to stay here a sec, because the situation was getting weirder by the minute, and I was beginning to think that I’d just as soon take my chances in the rain.
    Especially when I heard the moaning. And the squeaking. I made up my mind to wait outside. I glanced over for only a moment at the dimly lit shapes on the bed—then left, and closed the door behind