Hairpin Curves

by Elia Winters

  “Whoa, whoa, I’m not ready for that.” Megan closed back in again. “I just got laid off. And I don’t have much experience.”

  “Well, do you have some experience? Aside from making mix CDs.”

  Megan gave a half-nod. “I had a night gig on the radio at the university. I did the midnight-to-two shift on Thursday nights.” Megan’s annoyed expression softened, her eyes going unfocused as she remembered. “I didn’t have any Friday morning classes that semester, so it worked out fine. I think I was the only one listening, probably.”

  As long as Megan was talking, she wasn’t being mad at Scarlett, and that cold gulf between them was a bit warmer. Scarlett would ask more questions. “What did you like about it?”

  “Everything.” Megan sighed. “It was so immersive. Me and all the music, alone in the sound booth, with people out in the world hearing what I wanted to share. It felt like magic.”

  This was the Megan that Scarlett had remembered, the one who said things like “It felt like magic” and sighed like a character in love in a Hallmark movie. Not the bitingly sharp, angry Megan from those first conversations after reconnecting.

  Megan snorted. “You probably think I’m being sentimental.”

  “It’s okay.” Scarlett didn’t want her to stop sharing.

  “What about you?” Megan asked. “I told you mine. Tell me yours.”

  “My what?’

  “Your dream.”

  Scarlett folded her hands in her lap. “I don’t have dreams.”

  “Liar.” There was no malice in Megan’s tone, but the word still stung. Scarlett didn’t need to be reminded of her lies.

  “Don’t call me a liar.”

  “But you’re lying to me right now.” Megan still didn’t seem angry, though, in that direct way she had. She thought she was being factual. Maybe she was.

  If only Scarlett had something to focus on instead of sitting here with her own thoughts. “Can I drive?”

  “Why? I’ve only been driving for a little while.” Megan frowned. “Are you getting carsick or something?”

  “No, I’m just antsy. I want something to focus on.”

  Megan pulled off at the next exit, and they switched places. Back behind the wheel, Scarlett started to relax.

  But then Megan piped up. “So what are your dreams?”

  Scarlett groaned. “Fuck, I thought you might leave that alone once we changed drivers.”

  “Nope.”

  Dreams. Her dreams. “I try not to think about that sort of thing.”

  “That’s sad.”

  A muscle twitched in Scarlett’s jaw. Did she want to be pitied by Megan, or hated by her? It was difficult to choose. “I don’t want to get my hopes up about something ridiculous.”

  “What, you want to be an astronaut? A professional figure skater?” Megan teased.

  Scarlett whipped her head around to glare at Megan, without any real anger. “If I’m going to become a professional athlete, it would be for shot put or something, not fucking figure skating. We’re from Florida.”

  “Don’t deflect. Come on.” Megan reached across and gave her a nudge. It was the first time she’d touched Scarlett, and Scarlett’s brain short-circuited for a moment at that realization. Even the briefest touch had Scarlett hyperaware of how close they were in this car. Then Megan added, “I showed you mine, you show me yours.”

  Scarlett laughed. “That means something very different than you’re using it for.”

  “Words can mean multiple things.” Megan shrugged. “Whatever. You don’t have to be honest with me.”

  Scarlett sighed. Of course it would be guilt of some kind. “Okay. Fine. You want to know what I want? I don’t know what I want, because all the things I thought I could do are things I failed at.”

  “You’re not being specific.”

  “Have a healthy relationship?” Scarlett gripped the steering wheel tighter, her foot getting harder on the accelerator as her heart began to race. “That’s one. And also have a good career. I thought I’d become a teacher, but high school was hell for me and now we both know how college turned out.” She stared straight ahead. “I’m stupid and I’d be stupid to deny it.”

  They were doing eighty, and Scarlett forced herself to ease off the gas. Megan was silent beside her, as Scarlett had suspected. No way to compete with the truth.

  “I think you’re smart,” Megan said eventually, and the words sounded hollow.

  “Don’t patronize me. It’s more insulting.” Scarlett didn’t want to look over. Her eyes felt hot, and she tried to blink the feeling away. “Put the music back on.”

  “No.” Megan shifted to face Scarlett. “I’m not going to say I’m not still mad at you for lying to me and abandoning me, because I am. But I’m not going to sit here while you lie again and say that you’re stupid. You’re not stupid. You don’t test well, sure, but you did great on projects and essays. And you got through three semesters of college with none of the accommodations you needed. If you wanted to be a teacher, you could do it.”

  Scarlett shook her head, lips pressed tightly together. She didn’t want to hear this, didn’t want the hope to spring up only to be crushed again. When she thought she could speak without her voice shaking, she explained more. “I’m not teacher smart. And that’s fine. Not everybody is. So I’m making ends meet. I used to hope something would come up that I loved, some job that might fit, but it didn’t. And I don’t think it will. I’m afraid...” She stopped short, mouth snapping shut.

  The silence fell between them again. Scarlett wanted to crack a joke but couldn’t find one.

  Megan’s words came gently into the quiet. “Afraid of what?”

  Scarlett didn’t need to answer her. But maybe Megan needed to hear it. Maybe Megan needed Scarlett to put her guard down, just a bit, and mend something between them.

  Miraculously, her voice stayed steady. “I’m afraid I can’t do whatever I set my mind to. I care about things but I don’t know if I can achieve them, and that’s not something I like to confront.”

  They sat in the silence again. Damn, it was an uncomfortable silence. Finally, though, Scarlett relaxed, her shoulders sliding back down from where they’d crept up toward her ears. She thought of something meta to say. “Pretty heavy subject for the car ride, right?”

  Megan looked over at her, and her gaze wasn’t judgmental or pitying. It was thoughtful. “I think it’s okay. Car rides are made for heavy conversations.”

  “How would you even know?”

  Megan shrugged. “From movies.”

  Scarlett relaxed a little more. “I guess it’s good to talk about it.”

  After a few more minutes of silence, when Scarlett was about to change the subject, Megan spoke up again. “For what it’s worth, I think you can do whatever you set your mind to. It’s one of the things I always admired about you. And I think you’d make a great teacher.”

  Scarlett flushed and mumbled her thanks. Then she quickly turned the music back on. It was a song from the Runaways, perfect for car singing, and she started humming along. Megan joined in, singing the refrain, and the conversation mercifully ended.

  Chapter Eight

  Megan shifted in her seat for probably the hundredth time that day. This was only day two of their trip, but it had to be that these seats were growing less comfortable with each passing mile. Bucket seats. Who wanted to sit in a bucket, anyway? If she asked to get out and stretch again, though, Scarlett might throttle her, putting an end to the uneasy peace they’d developed throughout the day after a fairly tense start. Plus, the GPS said they were close to the motel, with a left turn coming up off the town road they’d been driving on for a while now. Scarlett pulled off onto the shoulder next to a turnoff heading steeply upward. She frowned at the GPS for a moment, then the road, then back to the GPS. “I think this is
it.” She put the blinker on to turn back onto the road, but Megan stopped her with a hand on her arm.

  “That doesn’t look like a real road.”

  Scarlett shrugged. “It’s paved, and the GPS says turn left. There’s a sign of some kind, but I can’t really read it from here.”

  Neither could Megan. “Haven’t you ever heard of death by GPS? It’s where you follow the GPS, but the GPS doesn’t know that some roads shouldn’t be driven on, and you end up stranded somewhere and dead.”

  “If it’s not this, we’ll turn around before we die, I promise.” Scarlett pulled back onto the road and started heading up the hill, which was leading them off into a more wooded area. They were clearly in the mountains, or at least more mountainous than anything Megan had encountered in Florida. Not that that was saying much.

  “This is definitely where you end up dead.” Megan leaned forward as well, frowning as she looked where Scarlett was looking. “It looks like a place people go to get murdered.”

  “Nah. We’re fine.” Scarlett pointed. “Look, that’s the motel up ahead.”

  The Timber Pines motel lived up to its redundant name—everything was surrounded by pines. It was a cute little place, probably a dozen or so rooms, and it was at least newly painted. Megan’s fears of being murdered were somewhat assuaged. Despite the gain in elevation, they hadn’t seen any snow, but she didn’t mind that too much. It was kind of sweet for Scarlett to be so excited about Megan having this first snow experience, though.

  Sweet, and a little disarming.

  The room itself was simple but clean, with two double beds covered in flowered bedspreads and a back window that overlooked the forest. Scarlett went for a walk, leaving Megan to unpack her bag and have a bit of time alone with her thoughts after the revelations from earlier. She laid out her scrapbook and started designing a new page as she let her mind wander.

  Scarlett’s explanation for lying made sense, or at least Megan could see how it had made sense to eighteen-year-old Scarlett. She still didn’t like it, though; she didn’t like the lying, but she especially didn’t like empathizing with Scarlett’s reasoning. Maybe it was just residual anger from holding this grudge for so many years, or maybe it was something deeper, but she couldn’t forgive Scarlett so easily. Scarlett hadn’t trusted her with her feelings of inadequacy. She’d rather have had Megan hate her than admit she wasn’t as perfect as she’d always acted. And because of that, they’d lost out on years of a friendship, and Megan had had to navigate the biggest changes of her life alone. That kind of betrayal didn’t untangle so easily, not with a single confession, not after seven years. Worst of all was how easily Megan could see herself yielding, drawn back into Scarlett’s dazzling orbit, captivated by Scarlett’s beauty and charm, blinded by her desire for Scarlett’s approval. The only path forward was to stay hard-hearted, to remind herself that Scarlett had betrayed her trust and she didn’t want to get hurt like that again.

  Scarlett came back in a little while later with her cheeks pink from the cold, bringing a gust of the outside air in with her. “I’ve got good news.”

  Megan set aside her scrapbook and art supplies. “What’s the good news?”

  Scarlett nodded at her work. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m making a page for this stop.” She held it up, already labeled with the Blue Ridge Mountains, spaces for facts she was going to look up on the internet later. “What’s your good news?”

  “It’s supposed to snow tonight.” Scarlett beamed. “Not a lot, only a dusting, but the guy at the front desk said he was pretty confident in the forecast.”

  “Is that going to be bad for driving?” Megan could imagine them skidding down out of control on the steep road they’d taken to get here.

  Scarlett waved a hand dismissively. “Nah. The sander just went by as I was coming back to the room. There’s a path down to a river out behind the motel. Maybe in the morning you’d want to go down there and get a picture or two for the scrapbook.”

  “Thanks.” Megan felt a little guilty with her desire to stay hard-hearted in the face of Scarlett’s kindness. She forced a smile. “This place is nice.”

  “It’s all right. The price is good, too. Well within the budget.” Scarlett flopped down onto her bed. “I assume you already inspected these for bedbugs?”

  “Of course.” Megan ignored the way Scarlett seemed to find that hilarious. “Any places deliver food around here?”

  Scarlett dug some folded pamphlets out of her pocket. “Got some local offerings from the front desk.”

  They ordered Chinese and watched the local weather on the tiny television while they ate it. Megan was glad to be out of the car, but she couldn’t settle. After dinner, she finished the scrapbook page, and then tried to find something to do. She tried to read a few pages out of a novel, but couldn’t focus on the words; she fooled around with a mobile game, but quickly lost interest; she folded and refolded the clothes she’d unpacked and then reorganized all the snacks in the snack bag. Nothing held her interest, her attention skittering as her body itched for something physical. She knew what would relieve that nervous energy, and if she’d been alone, she could indulge to her heart’s content—some sex toys, a locked bedroom door, and no Scarlett passing judgment. But no, she wasn’t alone, and so even that foolproof stress reliever was denied her. Annoyed, she tried pushing herself through some yoga.

  Scarlett closed her laptop. “The Wi-Fi here’s shitty. I can’t get a good signal.” She leaned back against the headboard of her bed. “What’s wrong?”

  Megan grimaced. “I’m restless.”

  “I can tell.”

  Megan shifted into Triangle pose, trying not to roll her eyes. “I wasn’t trying to hide it.”

  “Yeah.” Scarlett grinned. “So what do you usually do when you’re restless?”

  Scarlett would be completely floored if Megan told her the truth, wouldn’t she? She had thought Megan was a virgin like she’d been back in high school, like Megan hadn’t changed at all, like just because she didn’t brag about sex meant she wasn’t a sexual being. And right now, Megan was unsettled and restless and just about out of fucks to give, so she shifted out of Triangle pose and threw Scarlett a thin smile. “I masturbate, usually.”

  She was rewarded by Scarlett giving her a slow blink, momentarily speechless, color coming suddenly to Scarlett’s lightly freckled cheekbones. Anything that made Scarlett speechless was worthwhile. “Okay,” Scarlett said after a long pause. “So go for it.”

  Megan’s stomach dropped. That was not what she’d expected. “What?”

  “Rub one out.” Scarlett’s smile was mischievous. “It wouldn’t bother me.”

  “I bet it wouldn’t.” Megan could feel her own face get hot. She forced herself into another yoga pose just to keep from looking as shaken as she felt. The pose was called Warrior pose, but she didn’t feel like a warrior as she did it, Scarlett’s attention still on her body. When she came out of the pose, she looked over and yeah, Scarlett was watching her. “Don’t you have a book to read or something?”

  “What’s the matter? Haven’t you ever had a wank in front of one of your boyfriends?” Scarlett’s eyes were sparkling. She was enjoying this, damn it. She was enjoying Megan’s discomfort.

  Two could play at that game. “My boyfriends, no, but I have done it in front of some girlfriends.” She raised an eyebrow. Scarlett’s increased flush was gratifying. Knocking her off-balance was a delight.

  Scarlett’s embarrassment didn’t last long, though. “Megan Harris.” She folded her arms. “Why didn’t I know you weren’t straight? Why am I finding this out now, in a mountainside motel in North Carolina?”

  “Because you’ve been too proud to talk to me for seven years, and because I didn’t know it myself until college. So there.” Megan sat down on the floor and stretched forward, in part so she didn’t have t
o keep looking at Scarlett’s face. Her words came out muffled. “Now you know.”

  Silence fell. Eventually, Megan had to stop stretching. Scarlett had started doing a crossword from the book she’d brought, and she didn’t look up. Apparently the conversation was over, and Megan still wasn’t sure where anything stood. She might as well take a shower and get ready for bed.

  By the time she came out, much later, Scarlett had turned off all the lights except the little nightstand one. She was under the covers in her bed, rolled onto her side and facing the door. Maybe she was asleep. Megan got beneath her own covers and flicked off the one remaining light, plunging the room into darkness.

  The restlessness in her body would not go away. She flipped from one side to the other, and finally lay on her back, staring up into the darkness, her heart beating too quickly against her ribs, her mind too full of Scarlett.

  Quietly, barely loud enough for Megan to hear, Scarlett’s voice came through the darkness. “I really don’t care if you want to get off.”

  Megan couldn’t deny she’d been thinking about it. “It doesn’t bother me, but I don’t want it to be weird for you.” There was another part of it, too, that she might as well say out loud. “I don’t want you to think it means anything.”

  Scarlett’s quiet, breathy chuckle floated over to her. “It definitely doesn’t have to mean anything. Does that go both ways?”

  Megan’s heart was racing, now. “Of course,” she made herself say. Because it didn’t. She’d done this sort of thing in front of partners before, or alongside them. Like other types of sex, mutual masturbation didn’t have to mean anything. But she’d never done it in the same room as someone who she wasn’t actively sleeping with. She’d definitely never done it with Scarlett.

  The first soft, hitching breath from the other side of the room brought her whole body to attention at once. Oh, god, Scarlett was touching herself. She wasn’t making a show of it, but if Megan listened—and she did, she strained to listen—she could hear the quicker intake of breath and the muffled soft, wet noises. She might have been rubbing her clit, or dipping her long fingers inside herself...