Chapter Text
the world is just illusion (trying to change you)
Ava does not have a habit of picking up hitchhikers.
She’s not stupid. She’s been alone on the road for five days already and she’s seen the people who stand on the edge of the road, sticking out their thumbs as cars pass by; though she’s entertained the thought of stopping, picking someone up for the night or dropping them off at the nearest rest stop, she never has. She doesn’t particularly want to get murdered, you see.
The people have grown more and more frequent the further inland she’s gone. She sees entire families, sometimes, though that’s rare. Only a few days ago there’d been a man standing on the side of the road with an entire machine gun in his hands.
But this is why she’s doing this. Well, maybe not specifically because of Machine Gun Man, but she’s experiencing other people and places, rather than just the few she’d been raised with. And she loves it.
The road has been slowly getting more and more rural as she goes, though she hasn’t had an issue with it yet. There are huge forests on either side of her, and she’s seen more than one deer today already. In all, it’s been a gorgeous day to travel.
Here’s the first problem: Ava absolutely believes in destiny.
And karma. And whatever makes it so that she deserves exactly what she’s doing right now. She believes in the idea that the shitty childhood she’d had has made it so that she deserves a more-than-great young adulthood; she believes that so seriously that half this trip is simply about proving herself right. Destiny, Ava feels, is less something that rips all choices from your hands and is instead a force that tugs you towards where you’re supposed to exist. That’s how she’d met Jillian, why she’s able to be here now.
Ava wholeheartedly believes in destiny, and so that’s what gives her pause when she spots the car on the shoulder up ahead. The car’s emergency lights are flashing and there’s a person standing beside it, hands on their hips.
Here’s the second set of problems: it’s getting dark, and the nearest town’s still over an hour away. And the person is a woman.
Just one person, unmoving, staring at her car as if whatever’s gone wrong with it is suddenly going to start working again. Even from far away Ava can see that she’s not very tall, has maybe an inch or two on Ava herself, and she’s sturdy, with broad shoulders and a tidy bun pulling her hair up. She’s wearing a pair of black slacks and a white button-up, though the sleeves are rolled up to her forearms.
Ava shouldn’t stop. She knows that, knows that it’s safer to just keep on driving, to maybe even look for an upcoming rest stop and report the car instead.
But it’s going to be getting dark, and Ava doesn’t particularly want to hear the news about some poor woman’s murder a week after this. Plus, she’s curious, okay? There aren’t many people on this road—not with their own cars, at least—and there’s even less that are traveling alone. She would’ve figured she’s the only one.
So Ava pulls over.
She slides to a stop a couple yards behind the woman’s car, not wanting to appear threatening. Flipping on her own emergency lights, Ava slides out of her seat and leaves her car door open a crack—just in case—as she stands up, shaking the weariness out of her bones.
“Everything okay over here?”
The woman had to have heard her coming, but she hadn’t turned to look yet, instead still staring at her car as if she expects it to start moving again just from the power of her stare. But as Ava comes closer; slow, cautious, she finally pivots to look Ava in the eye.
And wow, if Ava dies here maybe she’d even be okay with it, because this woman is fucking gorgeous. She’s got the most gorgeous eyes Ava’s ever seen, first of all, with a soft jaw and an attractive nose. Her shoulders are even more apparent up close, and Ava’s mouth goes dry at the sight of the muscles in her forearms.
“Does it seem okay?” Gorgeous and angry, clearly. Ava doesn’t blame her. Car trouble can do that to a person.
“Sorry, sorry. What’s goin’ on?” Ava asks, coming closer. She spots the problem immediately: both of the car’s right tires are completely blown, and there’s smoke coming out of the closed hood. “Maybe I can help.”
She doesn’t have a ton of knowledge about cars herself, but Michael had forced her to take a crash course on her own before undertaking this trip, so she’d like to think that she knows her way around a vehicle. At the very least she can see about patching the tires, though she’s not sure about the engine itself.
The woman steps back once, letting out an uneasy sigh. “If you’d like. I can’t do anything about it myself.”
It only takes a quick glance-over to ascertain that the situation is about as bad as the woman is making it out to be. The tires have been torn so badly that she’s not even sure they’d hold air anymore, and the engine seems shot. Ava leans back from the hood, rubbing the back of her neck.
“Yeah… This thing’s totaled,” Ava reports, wincing as she does. The woman doesn’t seem surprised, really, but the way her expression darkens at the news does not make Ava feel any better about it. “Uh, I don’t know a number for the tow truck around here, do you have anyone you could call?”
“Don’t have a phone,” the woman says stiffly.
What kind of person doesn’t have a phone? Has this woman popped out of the eighteenth century, or something? With an awkward hum, Ava looks down at the car again. It’s clearly not going anywhere anytime soon, and she can’t just leave her here.
Plus, she’s already tested her luck once already tonight and she’s not dead yet. Ever the optimist, it’s with that thought in mind that she makes her offer.
“I mean, I could give you a ride up to the nearest town? I’m going to be staying the night there anyway, and if you need a place to sleep it’s not much more expensive to get a room with two beds than just one. Or I can lend you my phone, I guess,” Ava says, because that’s probably the easiest way out of this in the first place. “If you want to call someone else.”
If she has someone else to call. Maybe it’s rude to assume, but Ava’s not sure at all that she does.
Looking at her with a furrowed brow, the woman hesitates just enough to propel Ava’s mouth back open, never quite able to stop herself after she’s gotten started.
“Look, you’re not even asking for my help,” she tells her. “I’m offering it.”
It doesn’t mean much to Ava herself, the difference, but there’s something familiar in the slope of this woman’s shoulders; a slump that Ava recognizes. Ava also hates being a burden, but she’s not just going to leave her here stranded on the side of the road, not while it’s already getting dark out.
It takes another long moment before the woman says anything, but eventually she meets Ava’s gaze with a weary blink. “I wouldn’t want to impose.”
“You wouldn’t be at all. Plus we’re only an hour or so out, so you can get a tow truck to head out tomorrow morning or something.” Ava smiles at her, trying to ease any rattled nerves. “What do you say?”
“I—as long as you truly don’t mind.”
“Not at all! As long as you’re okay with a little country music,” Ava says brightly. The woman doesn’t laugh, but the joke seems to ease the tension a little, so she’ll consider that a win. “You got a lot of luggage? There’s room.”
The woman does not have a lot of luggage, it turns out. Though she does lock up her car before they leave—not like anyone could steal it either way, but it’s the thought that counts—the only things she takes out of the passenger seat are two small bags, both a boring gray. Ava… worries.
Her own car—a five-seater van—isn’t horribly messy, but the woman still looks hesitant to get inside. Ava lets her put her bags in the back and hops in the car, brushing off the middle area so that there’s less crumbs immediately in focus.
“If you’re hungry, there’s snacks in the glovebox,” Ava tells her as the woman joins her in the front, flipping on her headlights. “But I’m also planning on getting dinner in town, so you’re free to join me then if you’re not starving right now.”
The woman does not go for the snacks. She also doesn’t say anything beyond a polite humming noise, and so Ava takes that as her cue to continue.
“By the way, you’re not, like, a serial killer or anything, right?” She turns her attention back to the road—deserted as it is—but keeps smiling, desperate to try and lighten the mood. “This isn’t some elaborate trap to lure me into a false sense of security?”
The woman hums again. “How would you know?”
So she does have a sense of humor. Ava’s so glad. She’s far too attractive to be boring. “Well,” Ava says, leaning back against her seat, “odds are that there aren’t two serial killers in this car right now, so—”
“That’s not even a little funny.”
And yet her voice is lighter than it’d been earlier. “I mean, it’s a little funny,” Ava says. Then, as the realization hits her, “Also, wait, did I even tell you my name?”
“You did not,” says the woman, and this time she does sound slightly amused, so three points for Ava.
Ava could have sworn they’d exchanged names already. “I’m Ava Silva,” she offers then, sending her a quick glance. It’s worthless, Ava catching only the slight turn of her cheek, but—sidenote, she’s pretty from this angle, too. Ava’s looking.
“Beatrice,” the woman says. Then, with only a slight hesitation, “Xin.”
Though she notices it, Ava doesn’t call attention to the weirdness. It’s not her place, as long as it doesn’t end up causing any trouble.
“So what are you doing out here in the middle of nowhere, Beatrice?” Ava asks (Beatrice is a lot of syllables, she notes; she’s definitely going to shorten that later when they’re more comfortable). “I mean no offense, but that car kind of looked like it’d seen better days. Traveling to meet family, or something?”
“Not family. Just—traveling,” Beatrice says, staring resolutely out the windshield. “And the car… it’s a rental.”
“So you were scammed,” Ava says.
“Possibly. But I’ve been pushing it for the last few days,” Beatrice admits. “So perhaps I’ve only got myself to blame.”
She doesn’t strike Ava as someone who’d accidentally push their car to the brink of exhaustion, let alone a rental. But maybe she shouldn’t be striking Ava as anyone, considering that she hasn’t even known her for an hour.
Whatever. Ava’d met Jillian once for fifteen minutes and that meeting had ended up changing her entire life. She, more than anyone, understands how monumental some seemingly small things can end up being.
“So where are you heading, then?” Beatrice asks then, clearly done talking about herself. “Besides just further inland. Do you have a set destination?”
“The mountains!” Ava tells her, taking the deflection in stride. “I’ve lived on the beach my whole life, essentially—but I’ve never even seen a mountain before. How fucked is that? So I’m going to climb one,” she says, the familiar excitement returning to her as soon as she says it. “And see what it’s like at the top.”
“You’re just traveling to climb a mountain?” It doesn’t sound condescending, the way Beatrice says it. She just seems curious.
“That’s it!”
A beat. “And then, what, are you just going to turn right back around and go home?”
Ava chuckles, used to this particular question. “Not quite! After my hike, the plan is to drive all the way around the mountain and head home in a huge circle. I don’t want to see a single road more than once during this entire trip.”
“That’s… quite the idea,” Beatrice says. Ava struggles to ascertain her tone; it’s not directly dismissive, she doesn’t think, but she’s heard more than one person express their confusion when they hear about her planned trip. Confusion is lighter than some reactions.
But this is Ava’s trip, and she’s going to fucking do it how she wants. If Beatrice is going to be weird about her idea, then she can stuff it. Ava doesn’t have to listen to her.
But then Beatrice is going on. “It’s nice, though. It sounds… freeing.”
And Ava grins.
She doesn’t look over at her, but she also doesn’t try to hide how gratifying it’d been to hear that. It’s exactly that, exactly like being free, which is something Ava’s always chased. She’d understood.
“Yeah,” Ava says quietly, “it is.”
/ /
The dinner they share when they get to town is quick and cheap, just shitty burgers over—less soggy than Ava was expecting—fries. Beatrice insists on paying, and Ava isn’t able to dissuade her from it, though she does make a mental note not to let that happen too often again.
Beatrice’s possessions worry Ava the more she sees of them—that is, how few there are in total. Just her two small bags, and she uses cash to pay for their dinner. Not necessarily warning signs—for all Ava knows, Beatrice could’ve only been planning on traveling for a day or so—but it’s enough to furrow Ava’s brow, though she doesn’t bring it up.
The conversation dies a little after dinner, but Ava thinks that’s probably because they’re both tired. It’s getting late, the sun having been set for a few hours now, and Ava’s been driving since early this morning. She’s not sure how long Beatrice had been on the road herself, but she can relate to the exhaustion.
The motel that Ava finds for them is small and probably falling apart, but she’s slept in worse and Beatrice doesn’t exactly have any better options. Ava orders a single room—two beds—for them without a second thought because it’s the cheapest and most logical, and Beatrice doesn’t argue about it.
It should be awkward, sharing a room with someone she’s only known for a few hours. She has no real idea of Beatrice as a person—and vice-versa—and she’s still very unsure about how they’ll move on in the morning.
It should be awkward, but it’s not.
Instead, Ava feels strangely steady as she makes her way towards the room they’re meant to share, leading them both down the long, cracked hallway until they reach 106. The key doesn’t break off in her hand when she inserts it into the door, which is always a good sign, and Ava creaks the door open with a swift movement.
The room itself is nothing special, but it’s also not nearly as bad as some of the shitholes she’s stayed in before. It’s small, with barely enough room for the two beds with a dresser shoved in-between, but there’s a bathroom and a TV that Ava’s mostly going to ignore and it’s definitely not the worst. Ava sets her suitcase down alongside one of the beds and looks to Beatrice.
Beatrice is standing in the middle of the room, drawing the curtains shut with a slow hand. She doesn’t seem like she’s panicking, really, but Ava feels a pang of sympathy anyway. It’s a shitty situation to be in.
“Hey,” she says, getting Beatrice’s attention, “we’ll figure this out in the morning, yeah? You want the first shower?”
She offers because she’s pretty sure Beatrice just wants to be alone for a hot second and process and also because showers after a long day in a car are like, life-changing. Holy, or something. She totally gets it, no judgment.
“I will. Thank you,” Beatrice says. She takes both of her bags into the bathroom as she goes, evidently ruling a shower over unpacking—something Ava also relates to—and Ava releases a short breath. She’s got to pull herself together.
Ava does unpack as Beatrice disappears into the bathroom—though there’s not really a point in doing so, given that she’ll be leaving again tomorrow morning—settling on the bed furthest from the window as a courtesy. She hears the shower turn on and settles on the bed—not particularly comfy, but not not comfy—and flips on the TV, content to browse until it’s her turn.
Beatrice is only gone for fifteen minutes at the most before emerges from the bathroom, hair still dry and bun still very pristine. She had to have touched it up, right? There’s no way it’s just stayed like that this entire evening.
“How was it?” Ava asks, turning the volume down.
Beatrice shrugs. She’s wearing a shabby-looking blue t-shirt that’s just baggy enough for the sleeves to go past her biceps and another pair of slacks that don’t look like they’re much more comfortable than her last pair had. Sure, the outfit could be called pajamas—Ava’s sure anything could, really—but it could also be just her regular clothes, and Ava—worries.
“It doesn’t have great water pressure,” Beatrice says finally, shrugging a towel over her shoulder and hanging it on the door. “But it’s warm.”
Which is about what Ava would’ve expected. She slides off the bed, then, grabbing her own pjs—an old shirt with a duck’s face printed on it and a pair of baggy shorts that she’d stolen from Michael—and leaves Beatrice to it, eager to find this warmth she’d mentioned.
The shower is warm. It seems as if Beatrice had purposefully left her some hot water and Ava takes full advantage of it. She stays in a lot longer than Beatrice had, using it up until the water begins to run cooler.
By the time Ava’s done with the shower, emerging from the bathroom with her pajamas on and teeth brushed, Beatrice is already fast asleep on the bed nearest to the window.
This tells Ava two things. One: that Beatrice must have been exhausted, which gives Ava a slight tinge of guilt for potentially giving her a hard time, and two: Beatrice doesn’t seem to relax even when she’s sleeping, which is just—well. It’s sad, really.
Ava tries her very best not to wake her as she gets ready for bed and succeeds for the most part; at one point she stubs her little toe on one of the bed frames, but she does not scream, even if she really wants to. Instead she hops up and down for the next five minutes, silently, until she can breathe again. For her part, Beatrice only rolls over once during her torment.
So she goes to bed without any additional guilt, which is nice. Ava is exhausted, and though the bed’s certainly not the best she’s ever had, it’s easy to fall asleep on it. She closes her eyes and relates to Beatrice one last time: passing out near-instantly.
/ /
Here’s the first strange thing: Ava doesn’t dream. Not ever.
Like, sure, she’ll have one every once in a while, but they’re rare for her to have, and she can count the amount of dreams she’s had in the last year on one hand. She’s certainly not had one since she started her trip, and she’s not exactly expecting to have one now.
But this is absolutely a dream.
It’s just flashes of moments; there’s no narrative, no storyline going on. There’s just a warm golden color, tingling against her spine and sending liquid fire through her veins. There’s a toxic red, a sharp blue, combative; something that makes her shy away, covering her face lest it drip into her eyes.
There’s also blood, and a lot of it.
It’s her own, she knows that for a fact, and this is weird only because she’s so glad. Glad that the blood dripping from her head—soaking into her hands, drying under her fingertips—is her own and no one else’s, is Ava’s blood and not hers; so long that it isn’t hers it’ll be okay.
She dreams of being touched by her, soft and gentle and warm. A gentle flitter to her brow, a stroke through her hair. She breathes.
She dreams.
Ava wakes, panting, with cold sweat already drying on her shoulders, and she’s back in the tiny little motel room. Beatrice is still asleep a few feet away, soft breaths catching on Ava’s ears. Even straining her eyes Ava can hardly make her out, but her silhouette is framed nicely against the dark curtains. She’s definitely the woman from Ava’s dream. No, it’s the other way around—the woman from Ava’s dream was definitely Beatrice. That’s the one.
Woah, Ava thinks, laying back down. I have got to get laid.
/ /
When Ava wakes up again a few hours later, Beatrice is already awake. It can’t be half-past eight and the motel doesn’t kick visitors out ‘til eleven, but Beatrice has already packed everything up and ready to go.
This is less impressive, though, considering how little she seems to have. Still, Ava’s got to give it to her: she’s fucking efficient.
It’s still not awkward, which is almost the weirdest part of it. Ava had imagined that they’d just been too tired last night to be uncomfortable, but she doesn’t feel the slightest bit of hesitation about talking to Beatrice as she gets ready for the day, and despite her own curt answers, Beatrice doesn’t seem particularly unhappy about it either. She even initiates a conversation herself for the first time, which is something Ava absolutely shouldn't be keeping track of.
(“Does your shirt say— I’m five-foot-two and I’m being so brave about it —?”
“Of course it does!” Ava says. It’s one of her favorite shirts.
“Of course it does,” Beatrice says blankly, and accepts it without another word.)
Ava had spotted an advertisement for this motel’s free breakfast on the way in last night, and they head downstairs to eat before the inevitable parting (Ava’s not sure why she phrases it that way, it makes it sound sad) and the smell is so good that Ava’s mouth starts watering before she even sees the dining room.
The offered breakfast is surprisingly diverse, considering the circumstances, and Ava’s never been able to turn down a free meal. She fills her plate with a variety of things—whatever she doesn’t eat now she’ll save—and grabs them a table a little bit away from the area. There’s not too many other guests, just a few milling about, and they all stick to themselves. It’s that kind of town.
“You’re really going to eat all that?” Beatrice sounds bewildered.
Ava looks up from her food, noting the single waffle on Beatrice’s own plate. She shrugs. “I’m hungry. Plus my metabolism is like, wild. Why do you think I have so many snacks stashed in my car? I get the munchies.” Four or five times a day, but she doesn’t add that part out loud. There are some things you don’t yet tell impossibly hot strangers when you’ve only known them for a night. “Also it’s free, so.”
“It is indeed,” Beatrice says, looking pensive. “I take it you’ve had some experience with places like this, then?”
Ava shrugs. “Sure. Every shithole’s the same—though this one’s breakfast is top tier, by the way—but you get used to it. Otherwise I just camp out in my car.”
“That… can’t be safe.”
“I haven’t died yet!” Ava grins at her, taking care to swallow her bite of egg before showing her teeth. It nearly goes down the wrong pipe, but she tries not to give that away. She’s not sure she fooled Beatrice, though she doesn’t say anything. “Plus,” she adds, subtly gasping for air, “you can’t go at me for being safe, because if I’d just kept going then what would you have done?”
Beatrice goes quiet for a moment, cutting her waffle even more intensely. “I’m not sure,” she finally admits. “I suppose I could have—walked.”
“ That’s not safe.”
“I know aikido and have a black belt in karate.”
“Oh, do you?” That’s hot. Ava leans closer, a spark of interest trickling pleasantly down her spine. She probably should’ve expected, what with the muscles and all, but being told is even better. “So you’re saying you didn’t need my help last night, is that it?”
Beatrice backtracks, like she’s afraid Ava’s genuinely put out. “I do appreciate your stopping to offer assistance,” she says, breaking their gaze to look back down at her empty plate. “And—everything after that, too.”
Ava’s heart warms, and she grins again. “You don’t have to thank me, I was just teasing. I’m sure you could’ve absolutely made it on your own.”
Despite her agreeing hum, Beatrice doesn’t seem to agree; she goes quiet once more, and Ava continues to worry.
After breakfast, Beatrice splits up with her for a moment to go and take use of the motel’s pay phone. Ava heads back up to their room to finish up packing—she doesn’t want Beatrice to think she’s eavesdropping—but Beatrice is only gone for a minute or two before she’s letting herself back inside.
Honestly, Ava’s not too surprised about that. Beatrice doesn’t strike her as someone who likes to ramble, even with a family member.
They both pack in near-silence, Ava shoving all her stuff back into the backpack she’d brought inside and Beatrice carefully folding the clothes she’d worn to sleep, rolling them back into one of her bags. By the time it’s nearing ten-thirty, Ava really needs to start getting the heck out of dodge, but she’s still hesitant.
“So,” she says, clapping her hands together (she hopes) casually, “do you know where you’re going to go?” She can’t quite force her usual cheer, though she’s sure Beatrice won’t be able to notice. They’ve only known each other for a day, not even. Even if it’d been nice to have someone with her, that doesn’t mean Beatrice feels the same.
Beatrice stiffens at the question. “Not sure,” she says. It doesn’t look like she’s going to elaborate, so Ava goes on.
“Are they going to be long? We technically have to be out of here by eleven, but I’m sure the employees won’t kick you out while you’re waiting on a ride. I mean, I don’t feel great about just leaving you here,” Ava says, kicking idly at a gray spot on the carpet. “I can hang around for a bit more, wait with you until whoever you’ve called shows up.”
A beat.
Beatrice releases a short sigh, dropping the last of her stuff into the bag she’s holding. “Ava,” she says finally, “I… didn’t call anyone. I have no one to call.”
“Oh.” She’d been worried about that. Ava stills, concern rearing back up in her chest for what’s probably the fifth time in twelve hours. “There’s no one at all? So what’s your plan?”
Beatrice hasn’t looked at her yet, choosing instead to pad quietly over to the window, as if there’s something outside that’s calling her attention. “I’m not sure, but I’ve got enough cash to find my way—somewhere. You don’t need to worry about me.”
How can Ava not? She’s not known her for long, sure, but she already knows that Beatrice is funny and attractive and kind, and she absolutely does not deserve to be abandoned here in the middle of nowhere.
Can she handle having someone else on her trip? Hell yes. She knows that. She’s always craved human interaction—that’s part of why she loves to travel in the first place, loves meeting people from all over—and this would be no different; it’d be better, even, more consistent, and Beatrice has already shown herself to be a good conversationalist.
On the other hand, maybe they’ll clash too much. They haven’t much yet, sure, but they are very different people, and maybe those differences will make everything more complicated than they need to be.
But her final thought is this: Ava likes her company.
So in the end, it’s not even a hard decision.
“I mean, it’s not going to be for a little bit, but I am heading towards the coast eventually,” Ava says, creeping slowly closer. “Lots of job opportunities out there if you’re looking to find somewhere new to fit in! Trust me, I know. Even I got hired over there, and you’ve got to be more competent than I am.”
Beatrice finally turns around, raising an eyebrow. “You have a job?”
Ava decides not to take that as an insult. “I’m taking a leave right now, but yes! I’m a bartender! And there’s plenty of other openings down there if you’re looking. It’ll only be a little over a week, probably, and it’s nice out here if you’re looking for a change of scenery.”
“And you still—have enough room?” Beatrice still looks wary. “I don’t want to bother.”
Not a bother at all, but Ava can’t exactly tell her she’s somewhat starved for consistent human attention, can she? So she just psshes, letting the smile that she’s been battling finally spread across her face. “You wouldn’t be one at all. However,” she adds, tilting her head to the side, “I am going to make you ask me this time. It’s only fair.”
A beat, and then Beatrice sighs again, though she doesn’t sound—to Ava’s ears, at least—irritated in the slightest. If anything, she’s amused. Ava’s glad.
“Fine,” she says, meeting Ava’s gaze. “Ava, may I go with you to—wherever you’re going?”
“The mountains.”
“Yes. The mountains,” Beatrice shakes her head—fondly, Ava thinks. “And then, eventually, to the coast.”
“Absolutely you can!” Ava sees no use in pretending this isn’t exactly what she’d been hoping for. Her reaction doubles in making Beatrice more comfortable and it works; the hunch in her shoulders softens minutely. “This is going to be so much fun!”
/ /
Beatrice does not like country music.
Ava learns this the hard way, fifteen minutes into their now joint road-trip. Which is fine for now, of course; nobody’s perfect. Ava will just have to convince her to change her mind on that later. But since she’s a good host, she allows Beatrice to swap out her usual radio station for whatever she wants to listen to, to which Beatrice flips around for a few minutes before turning it off altogether, giving up.
This just gives Ava an in. “So, what kind of music do you like?” she asks, trying not to make it sound too much like she’s prying (even though she totally is). “Because I’ve got CDs in the back somewhere, if you’d rather listen to those. A bunch of them are Disney movie soundtracks, but that’s not all that’s there.”
Beatrice makes a short huffing sound, which Ava thinks is one of her laughs. “I’m not sure. I don’t listen to music that often. But I doubt whatever you’d been playing can even qualify.”
“Hey! My music preferences are fantastic, thank you very much. Get well tune.”
“That—” Beatrice turns to look at her. “That didn’t even make any sense.”
“No, no, it’s fine,” Ava says, resolutely not meeting her gaze, “some strings just aren’t for everyone. I get it.” She allows a smile to slip through. “Seriously, though, you don’t listen to any?”
“I’m a very busy person,” Beatrice says defensively. “I took piano lessons as a child, but I haven’t touched one in years now. I’m not sure I would be able to do it again.”
Beatrice absolutely looks like the type of person who took piano lessons. But Ava doesn’t say that; it’d probably be taken the wrong way. “I’d love to learn an instrument one day,” she says instead, leaning back against her seat with a sigh. “Maybe the guitar or something—or the drums? Do you think I’d be a good drummer?”
“How coordinated are your hands?”
Ava bites back the easy joke—too easy, too soon—with a short laugh that bubbles out of her chest. “Not very. My eye-hand coordination can be a little rocky even now, and I’ve been able to have them back for almost three years now!”
She knows she’s dropped an interesting tidbit and waits to see if Beatrice will nibble at it. It takes her a moment, during which she takes small glances at Ava like Ava can’t at all see her doing it, and then she bites.
“It sounds like there’s a story there.”
“Yeah,” Ava says, a playful smile forming on her lips, “maybe I’ll tell it to you someday.”
Beatrice ducks her head with another amused huff, and Ava’s smile widens, but she doesn’t offer anything more. She can’t give up all her cool mysteriousness on the first day.
/ /
They’ve been on the road for about forty-five minutes when Ava spots her.
“Hey, Bea,” she says, getting Beatrice’s attention from where she’s messing with the CD player, “you see that?”
There’s a woman walking alongside the road on the opposite end, a single pack slung across her shoulder. She’s still too far away to make out most of her details, but she does seem to have some sick-ass braids. Plus, she’s wearing a leather jacket, even though it’s very much summer. Cool, Ava thinks.
She’s also absolutely miles away from any sense of civilization. Ava’s mind is made up within a half-second.
“So… should we stop?”
Out of the corner of her eye, she can Beatrice shaking her head. “You’re going to get us killed.”
It’s not a no. “You didn’t kill me, did you? My not-dying odds have been pretty good so far. I’m pulling over,” Ava decides brightly, flipping her left blinker on (there’s no other cars on the road that she can see, but she likes to do it anyway—likes the sound it makes). “And hopefully she won’t think we’re going to murder her.”
She pulls up to the woman, slowly, rolling down the windows as she does. The woman, who’d stopped when she saw them coming, cocks her head at them as Ava parks, crossing her arms across her chest.
“Can I help you?”
“No, but I think we can help you! Where are you headed?” Ava asks. She has to practically lean into Beatrice’s lap in order to get a good look at this new woman, though she tries not to put too much weight on her. Beatrice is stiff under her arm, but she doesn’t push her away.
“Home,” the woman says, after a skeptical glance. “The wife’s waitin’ for me.”
It’s definitely because Ava is leaning entirely on top of her, but she feels Beatrice’s entire body go stiff, just for a moment. Something to unpack later, probably.
“How far is that? There’s nothing really around here, is there?” Ava’s not looked at the map in some time, sure, but she’s pretty sure there hadn’t been another town for quite some time. There’s not even a camping lodge within the next hundred square miles.
“Altea.”
Ava knows of Altea. It’s only a few dozen miles away from her own home, back out on the coast. It’s extremely far away. “And you’re just walking? That’s going to take you a week and a half at best!”
“That wasn’t the plan originally.” The woman shrugs. “My bike broke down back there, won’t be fixed for a couple weeks at least, apparently. These country towns don’t have any damn cabs,” she says, rolling her eyes. “So I’m walking… until I find a better option.”
Ava absolutely has a better option for her. “Well, you can come with us if you’d prefer! It’d still be much faster.”
“Ava,” Beatrice says, and it’s still not a no. Just a caution, maybe. Ava happily ignores it.
“So what do you say?”
The woman pauses. “You seem to be going in the opposite direction that I need,” she notes dryly, which Ava has to admit is a good point. “Where are you heading?”
“To the mountains. But after that we’re turning right around,” Ava tells her brightly. “It won’t be a very long trip! Certainly faster than walking.” She shimmies her shoulders, suddenly aware that hers are still pressed up against Beatrice’s, decides not to move quite yet. “I’m Ava, and this is Beatrice! We only met yesterday in the first place, so it’s not like you’d be the odd one out!”
“So you have a habit of this,” the woman says with a sharp laugh. “That’s not safe at all.”
“Not a habit yet,” Ava says, “not until you join us, that is.” She smiles down at her, trying to look as innocent as possible. “Surely you don’t want to do all that walking. Coming with us includes a hiking trip, too! Everyone loves hiking.”
“Do they?” Beatrice asks snidely.
Ava ignores her again. “What do you think?”
The woman looks at her for a long moment, eyes flickering from Ava’s face to Beatrice’s to the rest of the car, as if she half-expects another four people to pile out of the backseat. But she seems to find whatever she was looking for, and her shoulders soften as she lets out a long sigh.
“Alright, yeah. I’ll be honest, that sounds a hell of a lot better than walking.”
Ava shoots Beatrice a pleading look, refusing to back off. Beatrice is just as attractive up close, by the way, and Ava is definitely still looking. Also woah, hello freckles. “You’re okay with this, right?”
Beatrice, who’s pressed herself as far against her seat as she can manage, only rolls her eyes, a strained huff coming from her throat. “Fine. It’d be hypocritical for me to say no.”
“Awesome.” Finally returning to her own seat, Ava presses the button to unlock the car. “Come on in,” she says to the woman, inviting her to get into the backseat. “I’m Ava, by the way. This is Beatrice.”
“Yes, so you said.”
So she had. Whoops.
Still, she doesn’t look too put off by Ava’s clear excitement. The new woman clambers inside and chooses the seat behind Beatrice, dumping the backpack down on the floor in between her boots. She clicks the seatbelt over her chest and looks up to send Ava an inviting smile.
“I’m Mary.”
/ /
Mary buys them all lunch a few hours later. Ava had been right: Mary is also cool as fuck.
This isn’t the first time she’s walked nearly a week straight to get to where she needs to go, apparently, and she’s no stranger to hitching rides, either. She tells them stories about the people she’s ridden with before, the pros and cons of those rides, too. She’s got an easy casualness to everything she does, and Ava’s kind of obsessed with her.
She’s also easy to ride with. Mary doesn’t object in the slightest to sitting in the back, and she keeps up an easy conversation as they drive on. Beatrice starts out seeming somewhat quiet, but she gets less and less stiff as the day goes on. Ava had chosen well with these pickups, she thinks.
Then, nearing sunset—always nearing sunset, apparently, what’s up with that—just as Ava gets over a long bridge, they come across two more.
Ava spots them half a second before Beatrice does. She does not, however, lose her absolute shit like Beatrice does.
The breath that tears itself out of Beatrice’s throat is sharp enough that Ava thinks, for one wild moment, that she’s choking on air. Then Beatrice leans forward in her seat, squinting against the sunset. She’s gone very stiff. “Is that—?”
Ava gives her a quick look before fixing her eyes back on the road—and on the people walking alongside it. “Bea, you know them?”
(The nickname slips out without her noticing, without catching Beatrice’s attention, either. She won’t realize until much later, and by then it’ll be far too tricky to stop, not that she’d want to.)
Beatrice doesn’t answer her, wide-eyed and stunned, clearly, but Ava figures she doesn’t really need to get a verbal answer anyway, not when it’s so obvious already. So Ava pulls up to the side of the road for a third time, honking her horn quickly to get the strangers’ attention.
The tall one is even taller up close—kind of built like a giraffe, Ava thinks—with a sharp, attractive face and dark hair. The smaller girl would be short even when she’s not next to her companion, and Ava trusts her instantly. She has kind eyes.
Beatrice looks like she would’ve expected to see the Pope disintegrated on live tv before this. “...Lilith?”
“Beatrice?” the taller one—Lilith, clearly—almost sounds offended. They stare at each other for a long moment, the smaller girl looking back and forth between them like they’re about to throw down right now in the middle of nowhere. Ava can’t tell if they’re, like, bitter exes, or something like that.
Or maybe they know each other from—wherever their homes are, judging by Lilith’s accent. It’s similar to Beatrice’s—though not the exact same—and Ava wonders.
“So I’m guessing you two know each other,” Mary says dryly, piping up from the backseat.
“Wow,” Ava says, genuinely curious about this development, “small world, huh? What are you guys up to?”
“That’s none of your business.” Lilith turns her frown on Ava, eyes traveling over her face like she expects to recognize her, too.
“Well, I mean, I was going to offer you a ride, but—” Ava’s making a joke, kind of, though Beatrice doesn’t seem to take it as one, judging by the way she falters, just for a moment. Despite her reaction, she doesn’t seem like she dislikes these new people, just that she knows them. Lilith, at least.
Well, it’s too late for them to not know she’s here.
“We don’t need one.” Lilith lifts her chin defiantly. “So you can be on your way.”
“There’s room, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Ava says, which is barely true, but whatever. She’s growing more serious now. “We’ve got two seats left. We’re going to see the mountains, but then heading back to the coast, if that’s where you’re wanting to go.”
“I don’t think so,” Lilith replies, narrowing her eyes. “Getting thrown in the backseat of a stranger’s car isn’t exactly my favorite idea.”
“Lilith.” The smaller girl speaks up for the first time, frowning at her companion. Her voice is about how Ava would have expected, with just the tinge of what she thinks is a Spanish accent. “Come on. This is perfect and you know it. You even know one of them.”
“But—” Lilith looks vaguely like she’s smelled something unpleasant, or maybe that’s just her face. She gives Beatrice another wary glance—Ava’s really starting to lean on her exes theory—rocking back on her heels.
“Lilith,” says the small one again, setting her jaw and nudging Lilith’s shoulder. She meets Lilith’s eyes with a stern gaze—impressive, considering how much less threatening she looks—and Lilith frowns down at her.
She sighs pointedly, and the other girl brightens before she even says anything. “...Fine.”
So they all squeeze into Ava’s car, Lilith and her companion— Camila, she says, introducing herself—and Beatrice doesn’t say a word as they move off once more. Ava will have to ask her about it later, maybe—she does feel a little bad now, given that Beatrice seems genuinely uncomfortable.
But it’s too late to backtrack on her promise, and there’s five of them now.