Nick
Cyan took the bottle with shaking hands, swallowed a small sip, and then slowly straightened up, exhaling a long, shaky breath into the dark. "I think… I think I was just carsick."
I stared at him, my hand still resting on his shoulder, monitoring the rise and fall of his chest. "Let's sit down for a minute."
We moved around to the back of the car, and I dropped the tailgate down. We sat side by side on the cold metal, our legs dangling over the bumper, staring out at the empty road stretching off into the dark.
Without a word of warning, Cyan's head dropped sideways, thumping heavily against my shoulder.
He slumped into my side like it was the most natural spot in the world for him to rest.
I looked down at the top of his head, his pink and brown hair smelling faintly of cheap perfume and tobacco.
I looked out at the road, then back down at him, my mind scrambling to catch up with the last three hours.
