Forty minutes later Casey wished she’d just done what she felt like doing after she saw Scott on the side of the road. Go home and hide under her bed.
Today was not working out quite the way she thought it was going to. Some construction in the middle of the bridge had traffic backed up for miles. She looked at her watch and pushed a soggy tendril of sweaty hair off her forehead. At this rate she wouldn’t be there before tomorrow. Looking at herself in the rear-view mirror she grimaced. I’m going to look like I swam over if I sweat any more. As if on cue a drop of moisture ran down her temple and into her ear. She rubbed the offending ear and glared malevolently at the sunshine beating down around her. It was unseasonably warm. It may be a perfect day for a party, but to someone stuck in traffic, in a car with broken a/c, it was just hot.
Casey rolled her window down further and mentally kicked herself for not letting Andrew pick her up. At least if they had been in the Jaguar they would have had air conditioning. She leaned her head out the window to try to cool her overheated skin with the meagre breeze and waited impatiently.
Finally, her lane started to creep its way up the ramp onto the bridge. Casey sat up straight, adjusted her skirt and eased her foot off the brake.
The car shuddered, heaved, coughed once and stopped dead. She stared at the now motionless indicator panel incomprehensively. A car horn honked impatiently behind her, startling her out of her shock. With a feeling close to panic she turned the key in the ignition. A low grinding noise was the only sound she heard. She looked around desperately for a friendly face in the nearby motorists as the long line of impatient commuters behind her started honking and yelling.
Yeah, she should have just gone home and hidden under the bed.