Free Letting Go by Bridie Hall

She looked at the phone as if it was its fault. He must’ve been in a hurry, she thought. Still, the conversation left a bad taste in her mouth that joined the one left over from the late night pizza snack. She hated going to bed without brushing her teeth, and what she hated more was waking up to loaded conversations.
    She came out of the bathroom when she heard a hesitant knock on the door.
    Harper seemed surprised when he saw her wide awake. “When did you get up?”
    “ Jamie called and woke me,” she explained.
    “Hm. I thought I’d let you sleep in a bit to ease the jet lag . Too bad I didn’t let Jamie in on my plans, huh?”
    “It’s fine. The sooner we set off, the better,” Isabelle said. She was grateful to Harper for being so considerate. She wasn’t expecting it. And when he extended his hand, holding a paper bag, she found another unexpected gift.
    “What’s this?” she asked suspicious.
    He smiled, leaning on the wall by the door. “The best present in the morning in a crappy motel. Second only to morning sex.”
    His comment made her cautious , but she opened the bag anyway. If nothing else, that gave her an excuse to avoid his eyes, crinkling with laughter.
    There was another paper bag in there, containing something that smelled like a doughnut. But she could care less about it right then because her eyes fell on a brand new toothbrush and paste.
    “God, Harper, you’re awesome.”
    “I know,” he said flippantly.
    “Be back in five,” she mumbled and rushed towards the bathroom.
    “Five minutes to brush your teeth?” He moaned and moved to sit on the bed while he waited.
    When she got back, she found him sprawled on his back on the bed.
    “It smells of you,” he said.
    Embarrassed at his intimacy, she said, “ I barely smell of myself after I had to shower with the motel soap.”
    She stopped in the middle of the room, strangely touched by his actions this morning, but awkward because it was Harper who was thoughtful enough to bring her a toothbrush, it was Harper who let her sleep in, and who was now lying on her unmade bed.
    “Ready to go?” she asked, to cover for her disquiet.
    “We can get coffees from the vending machine in the lobby,” he said, jumping up from the bed. When he went past her, he stopped to smell her short hair and then said softly, “I wasn’t talking about soap.”
    The morning was cloudy, but Isabelle felt chipper. Despite the few hours of sleep, she felt better and the toothbrush helped her self-esteem. The coffee didn’t hurt either. But the sugar from the doughnut that was now scattered all over her jeans and shirt was a bitch.
    “At least you didn’t get it on the upholstery,” Harper quipped.
    “Can you stop, please? I need to get it off my clothes,” she whined , and although she doubted he’d grant her request, he pulled up at the next service area.
    She jumped out and dusted the sugar from her jeans. A trace of it remained on her black shirt. “Damn icing, it’s supposed to be on a cake not on my shirt,” she grumbled as she returned to the car and closed the door a little too forcefully.
    “If I’d known you don’t know how to eat doughnuts …” he said, while typing something on his phone.
    “I can eat doughnuts, at the table, like you’re supposed to.”
    “Here we go again with all things proper and prudish.” Harper rolled his eyes.
    “Shut up .”
    “ My offer still stands. Do something ‘improper’” —he gestured quotes with his fingers— “and I promise to never call you a prude again.” He smiled at her sweetly, challengingly. He still didn’t start the car.
    “I don’t care what you call me.”
    “You’re awfully upset for not caring,” he commented, and the amusement lurking just below the surface of his calm voice incensed her more than the words. She refused to grace him with a reply.
    To avoid talking to him, Isabelle searched for a radio station with music. She’d had enough of listening to the