Wittawin pulled his motorcycle to a stop in front of the convenience store at the small roadside gas station. The engine sputtered and wheezed, refusing to accelerate properly before making choking sounds like it was about to die. A surge of irritation flashed through the young man, and he couldn't help but suspect Teeradon was behind this sabotage.
This was the third time he'd driven out of town only to have Teeradon follow him and his bike break down, forcing him to stay overnight.
But this time he'd planned ahead—he'd already contacted a repair shop to send a mechanic immediately if anything went wrong, no matter the cost. He'd also ordered Pamorn to stay home today, keep his schedule clear, and be 'ready' to pick him up the moment he called.
"What's wrong with your bike this time, Wittawin?" Teeradon asked as he parked his sleek Ducati alongside, putting on a concerned expression.
"Won't accelerate. No idea what's wrong. Probably the fuel float in the tank—it does this often." Wittawin scowled.
"Well, it is a BMW." Teeradon shrugged, making a disgusted face before raising his eyebrows in that infuriatingly smug way. "Want me to buy you a Ducati?"
Wittawin smiled sarcastically, eyeing the 'rich boy' who had money to burn and loved throwing it around on pointless things.
"Thanks, but I think you should donate that money to the Association for the Blind instead. Good karma. Unlike some people, I have perfect vision—I see everything clearly."
"Still got that sharp tongue even when I'm being nice," Teeradon remained unfazed by the insult. "Let me take a look at what's wrong."
"You know about motorcycles too?" Wittawin raised an eyebrow.
"I don't just sell liquor and beer, you know," Teeradon replied. "Besides filling up gas tanks, I can handle most other things."
"Right, forgot you're such an expert with engines." Wittawin handed over his keys and walked into the convenience store.
When Wittawin emerged from the shop, he found Teeradon standing with hands on his hips, frowning at the blue BMW with a shake of his head.
"I think you should just sell it. Breaking down like this constantly—fixing it is just throwing money away."
"Whatever." Wittawin feigned indifference about his bike. "The shop clerk said there's a small hotel down that way. I'll rest up for the night and deal with this tomorrow morning."
Wait, what just happened? Why doesn't he need convincing? Is Wittawin serious or just messing around? Teeradon shouted inside his head.
"Are you sure, Wittawin? You didn't bring any clothes," Teeradon said with a furrowed brow, though his heart was doing backflips.
This guy is the craftiest person alive... Wittawin thought.
"Money talks. They sell everything here. Don't really need clothes anyway—just buy some underwear for tomorrow." Wittawin shrugged.
"Don't need clothes?" Teeradon's eyes lit up immediately. "You mean we'll be sleeping naked together?"
You'll be sleeping. Not me. Wittawin smirked.
"Unless you want to sleep in your motorcycle gear," Wittawin smiled thinly, lifting a can of soda to drink before tossing it into a nearby trash bin. Teeradon watched and complimented his aim.
After covering the motorcycle with a tarp, Teeradon followed Wittawin into the small hotel and saw the young man receiving two keys from the staff.
"Wittawin! Why waste money on two rooms?"
"I snore," Wittawin said flatly, extending a key toward the man who was now pouting.
"I don't mind." Teeradon looked sulky, refusing to take the key from the other man's hand. Instead, he turned to look for the hotel clerk who had vanished the moment he'd been paid.
"Fleabag hotel with no staff around," Teeradon grumbled, craning his neck to find someone because he wanted to change the room arrangement.
"I'm tired. Going to nap for a bit. I'll wake up around six-thirty and we can find something to eat." Wittawin spoke and immediately walked toward his room, leaving Teeradon standing frustrated at the hotel's reception counter, watching him with growing irritation.
Fine. I'll knock on his door later tonight, or just climb through the window...
***
Wittawin carefully crept out of his room, looking left and right cautiously, afraid of being caught. It was now five in the evening. He'd been sitting in his room since two-thirty, waiting for time to pass as if he were really taking the afternoon nap he'd told Teeradon about.
Wittawin had called Pamorn to drive over and pick him up at the gas station, and instructed the repair shop to come tow his bike back to Bangkok.
Conveniently, it took Wittawin less than a minute to walk out of the hotel, then he hurried straight toward the gas station about a kilometer away.
Along the way, he called Pamorn again. His friend answered with irritation.
"Why are you rushing me? I'll be there soon. I'm at Wang Manao intersection right now. Just wait!"
"Hurry up, Pamorn," Wittawin urged, unable to resist glancing back, afraid Teeradon would realize he'd been tricked into staying at the hotel alone.
"Yes, sir! I'm driving as fast as humanly possible, gonna floor it!" Pamorn said sarcastically before hanging up.
Ha! So eager to follow me around, always playing tricks on me. Time for a taste of your own medicine. Now I'm even more certain Teeradon must be the one sabotaging my bike. The past two breakdowns happened near accommodations, just like this time. What are the odds?
When he reached the gas station, Wittawin went into the convenience store to buy candy and bottled water, then sat on a marble bench near the car wash area. After another fifteen minutes passed, Wittawin grew impatient and called Pamorn again. Before he could say anything, Pamorn burst out:
"Almost there! Five more kilometers and two hundred thirty-five meters. What's the big rush to get back to Bangkok anyway?"
"Just hurry."
"I've been your personal driver all year, and I drove here from Bangkok, not Nakhon Pathom," Pamorn snapped. "And if you want me to get there faster, stop calling so much. Taking calls while driving is dangerous! Five more minutes and I'll be there."
Wittawin hung up and looked around, seeing only gas station employees and three other parked cars. In his mind, he pictured Teeradon walking to knock on his room door, inviting him to dinner.
"I like taking afternoon naps with the TV on. Don't bother me. When I wake up, I'll knock on your door."
"After dinner, let's find somewhere quiet to talk, Wittawin. I have something important to discuss. If I don't tell you today, I won't be able to sleep tonight."
What does he want to tell me? And why didn't he say it before we went to our rooms? He stood there looking at me outside my door for quite a while...
Wittawin unconsciously sighed. If Teeradon knocked on his door, he'd only hear the TV that was left on, and it would probably take several minutes before realizing he wasn't in the room. Once he discovered that, he'd likely search the entire hotel for him.
Will Teeradon figure out that I ran away to sit here, about to sneak back to Bangkok?
Wittawin's mind wandered, but he had to stop when a black film-tinted Toyota Fortuner pulled up in front of him.
The young engineer rose slowly, unable to explain why he suddenly felt hesitant. In his mind, he pictured Teeradon's face again.
If he realizes I disappeared, will that crafty guy make his usual angry face, or will he look stern? Should I feel satisfied or sorry?
"Win! Get in the car!" The dark-tinted window of the Toyota Fortuner rolled down, Pamorn's voice came from inside. Wittawin opened the car door and climbed in slowly before nodding for Pamorn to drive off.
As the hotel disappeared behind them, Wittawin felt a strange hollowness settle in his chest.
Did Teeradon deserve this?
Was this too much to do to him?
***