I glanced sideways at the boy.I glanced sideways at the boy. For the first time I realized that the boy was very good looking. Even with the bruise on his face he was one hell of a good looking kid. He was the kind of kid that could do fashion ads. The kind of cute kid that mothers just love. The kind of boy that young girls swoon over and that men like me fantasize about. His dark hair was unkempt but it still glistened. His smooth skin had a bronze lustre. His eyes were dark, nearly black, and contrasted sharply against the vivid white. The boy slumped back in the seat. He breathed heavily, still swallowing, and his brow was dotted with beads of perspiration despite the fact that the a/c was going and the car was pretty cool inside. "You sure you feel okay?" I asked. You'd have to be blind not to realize that the boy was sick. He looked as though he might pass out any minute. He shook his head slightly and sniffed loudly and then closed his eyes completely as yet another wave of pain came over him. The boy shivered as if he was cold and the sweat on his forehead increased quickly. I looked away, back to the road as I passed a truck and trailer. Suddenly the boy winced and let out a small groan. I looked back at him. His upper lip was moist and he was breathing very quickly now, taking short gasps of air that never reached his lungs. "I'm gonna,... gonna be sick,... I think,... Mister," he moaned. The last thing I wanted was kid-vomit all over my car, even from a boy as cute as this one was. There was a a sign up ahead for a rest stop. It was one of those old rest stops without services, a mile away. A mile away, less than sixty seconds. "Can you wait a minute," I asked, ready to slam the car to a stop again if he said he couldn't make it that far. The boy nodded weakly and his small hand moved to cover his mouth. |