Free Welcome to Sugartown by Carmen Jenner

over the edge, but that was a good two
hours ago and I haven’t touched a drop since.
    I’m not
drunk, I’m just angry , I tell myself, as I
coast along Main Street toward the motel on the outskirts of town.
I really didn’t think this thing through, I realise, as the wind
batters my bare arms and legs and skates down my back. It’s late
and oddly freezing for this time of year, but I chalk it up to the
fact that I didn’t think to grab a jacket before I made my great
escape, and wind-chill is a bitch. As if that’s not enough, I feel
a fat drop of rain hit my back and I almost drive off the
road.
    I can see the
motel looming up ahead, but it starts to pour down long before I
pull Bespa into the gravel parking lot. It doesn’t matter that I
have no idea which room Elijah is in. The Sugartown Motel has been
here for years—almost as long as the Sugartown Mill. They built it
for the single men who travelled to the mill for work but it mostly
sits here with all the rooms unoccupied, unless the odd tourist
spends the night instead of travelling through. Personally, I’d
rather take my risks on the road, but that’s just me.
    All of the
rooms sit in darkness bar one, right at the end on the second
floor. I duck beneath the awning and shake myself like a dog to rid
my waterlogged dress from the rain, and then I take the steps two
at a time until I’m standing before a green door with peeling paint
and a number seven that’s been nailed on crooked.
    Now that I’m
staring at his door I think this probably wasn’t such a good idea.
I’m freezing, my nipples are probably high-beaming through my dress
and I more than likely have panda eyes. Okay, so no part of this
plan was a good idea, but I raise my fist and pound on the door
anyway. Several chips of paint flake off and fall onto the ragged
looking welcome mat.
    Elijah yanks
back the door and takes me in with a bemused expression. He’s
dressed in a pair of jeans. No shirt. No shoes. And, sweet baby
Jesus, the tattoos are even more beautiful up close. God damn it!
I’m supposed to be mad at him.
    “ Ana, what
are you doing here?” He pokes his head through the door and checks
the parking lot, probably worried I brought my dad and his biker
friends along for an old-fashioned town pummelling. “Are you wet?
Holy shit, did you ride here in the rain?”
    “ No. I
freaking swam, Cade,” I hiss back. “Are you going to invite me
in?”
    He steps
aside when he sees my angry, crazy panda eyes and I push past into
the warmth of his motel room. The door slams behind me. “What are
you doing here, Ana?”
    “ You left.” I
accuse.
    He squares
his jaw and narrows those pretty chocolate eyes at me. “Yeah. I
did.”
    “ You usually
kiss girls and leave them without another word?”
    “ Sometimes.”
    “ So it’s not
just me, then? Good to know.”
    “ What do you
want, Ana?”
    “ A towel
might be nice. And an explanation as to why you just left me there
and ran.” Elijah clenches his jaw and saunters into the adjoining
bathroom, then hands me a clean towel like he’s afraid he might
catch something.
    I begin
patting myself down. When I finally reach my hair I glance in his
direction, sort of like a prompt for him to answer my question. He
scowls at me.
    “ Look, Ana,
you’re a real sweet girl, but I’m working for your dad. I know he
doesn’t like the thought of someone like me dating someone like
you—”
    “ Who the hell
cares what my Dad thinks?”
    “ I need this
job.”
    “ What’s he
gonna do, fire you?” I snap back incredulously.
    “ You’re a
distraction. One I can’t afford.” A look passes over his face. It’s
like he almost can’t believe he just admitted that. He doesn’t say
anything else and that simple sentence stings more than I care to
admit, and so when I realise there’s no budging him I put on my big
girl knickers –metaphorically speaking, of course– and yank them up
so he can no longer read the hurt that I’m certain