Heated Encounter
A/N: Chapter one of Highways & Heatstrokes
Series Summary: After running away from your small hometown you venture out into the vast landscape, in search of a better life in New York City. When you meet truck driver Ari Levinson at a gas station, he offers you a ride, promising to take you as far as he can. But when it inevitably becomes time to part ways, will you follow your head or your heart?
Chapter Warnings: Misogynistic men, minor violence/attempted assault, hot and sweaty Ari, sexual tension, sassy and confident reader, a bit of angst/uncertainty, fluff.
Word Count: 4100
The beautiful divider is by @firefly-graphics
The only sound reaching your ears is the continuous thump of your sneakers hitting the asphalt.
Your skin is hot at the touch from being in the sun all day and the air feels thick and humid as darkness falls, consuming the deserted highway.
The backpack slung over your shoulders feels heavy, heavier than when you packed it, and you're starting to wonder what the hell you brought along with you that could possibly weigh that much.
Your eyes are focused on one thing and one thing only; the light at the end of the tunnel. The large gas-station sign is the only thing lighting up your way, it's your north star, guiding you towards some form of relief.
Your throat is dry and your legs are sore from walking; so are your feet, and a small part of you is cursing yourself for not accepting the many, many offers you've had on the way today. Cars and trucks alike, pulling over to offer you a ride, but you know better than that.
Mama didn't raise no fool.
But as you trudge your way towards the gas-station you start to wonder if perhaps mama was wrong. A ride would have been nice, surely not everyone is bad. And perhaps you'd have somewhere to sleep tonight, instead of having to sit in a booth in the 24-hour diner at a gas-station.
You've accepted rides before but never from walking alongside the road. In the past it's been with truck drivers you met as they were having dinner at some truck stop you passed on the way, and you'd only ever accept their offer if you felt comfortable in their presence when you'd join them in smalltalk.
This stretch of road felt different, though. It's deserted, stretching on for miles, and that makes you more hesitant to join a stranger in his car or truck. So you followed your gut and decided to walk, and at this point, you've been walking all day.
You tug on the edges of your denim shorts as you reach your destination, walking into the light, relief rushing over you for a moment. You've reached it, which means you're safe. You did the right thing. You're sure of it.
Your tank-top is sticking to your skin, still damp from the heat of today, and the back of your neck feels sticky and warm every time the hair in your ponytail brushes over it.
You scan the lot as you walk across it, checking the several trucks parked on the side. This place must be a favorite for the truckers because you see a lot of them, lined up side by side, and you're not sure whether that's a good or bad thing.
Truckers can be nice, you've even befriended a few in the past when you've made a pit-stop, but they could also be loners. And loners are dangerous.
You've met quite a few of them since you ran away from home, running from that god forsaken small town you grew up in. Ever since your mom died, there was no reason to stick around. Your deadbeat asshole of a father sure wasn't one; out of all the junkies in your small Florida town, he certainly took the cake.
So that's why you decided to leave. You needed to put everything and everyone behind you, and there was only one place to go - New York City.
A brutal city, sure. But you've been through hell and back and you're not one to shy away from a challenge.
Right now, however, the city is not the challenge currently on your mind. Right now, the challenge is getting some food. And water.
The little bell above the door rings when you pull it open, breathing in deeply when the aircon inside hits your sticky skin.
You let yourself soak it in for a second, relishing in the cool air before you walk up to an empty booth and plop yourself down on the leather seat.
The interior of the diner looks to be run down; the once white walls have a tint of yellow to them, the red leather seats in the booths torn and worn down by time. The breakfast bar probably used to be white, and you can tell the metal edge surrounding the counter has been polished, but it's obvious this place has been around for years without proper care.
It may even be older than you.
You place your backpack next to you before you slump into the seat, humming quietly at how the leather cushions feel soft under your tired body.
"Hiya sweets. What can I get ya?"
Your head raises at the sound of the waitress' voice, a tired smile on your lips.
"Some water, please."
"Sure thing," she replies, chewing her bubblegum enthusiastically as she pulls a notepad out of the front pocket of her dress uniform, "Anything else?"
"Yeah, uh.." You pick up the menu, quickly scanning it for the cheapest dish on there, "Could I have the soup of the day, please?"
She nods, blowing out a bright pink bubble as she writes your order down on her small notepad, "That it?"
"Yeah, that's it. Thank you."
"Be right back." She walks off and your smile falters as soon as she turns her back, it's like the extra effort made you even more exhausted.
You rest your elbows on the table, letting out a deep sigh as you crack your neck from side to side and roll your shoulders, trying to relieve the tension in your back.
Your eyes wander over the diner, the fluorescent lights sure to give you a headache before the night is over. You glance over the few people sitting inside; a guy in a cowboy hat sitting on a bar stool, another leaning tiredly in the corner of his booth.
There's a group of guys sitting in a booth at the far end of the diner, your eyes meeting a pair of brown eyes when one of them looks over his shoulder.
You quickly look away, not wanting to encourage anyone to come speak to you, and you feel almost elated when the waitress comes back and places your water and a bowl of tomato soup in front of you.
You thank her with another tired smile as you pick up the spoon placed next to it, not wasting a second before you dig in.
The bell above the front door dings again, announcing another customer, but you're too focused on your food to look up.
You register someone taking a seat at the end of the breakfast bar in your peripheral, but not even the Queen of England could make you break focus from your food right now.
You gulp down the soup eagerly, and far too quickly, feeling disappointed when you slurp down the final spoonful.
And then, just as you put down your spoon, someone plops down in the seat directly in front of you.
Your eyes lift at the sound and you sigh inwardly when you recognize the pair of eyes looking back at you. It's the brown ones from earlier, the ones looking at you from the back of the diner, the edges crinkling when the stranger smiles at you.
"Hey there," he says, a southern drawl to his accent, "How are ya, sweet cheeks?"
You want to roll your eyes at the pet name, but you resist, knowing it's never a good idea to provoke anyone when you're the vulnerable one in the situation.
You smile politely, "I'm good, thanks. And you?"
"Yeah, yeah, just excellent," he snickers, shifting in his seat when he places his elbows on the table to lean in, "You look like you've been walking all day. Going somewhere?"
"Yes," you nod, "I am, actually."
"Need a ride?"
Your smile turns more exaggerated before you shake your head, "No thanks, I'm good."
He frowns at your words, "I'm not some creep or nothin'. You just look like you could need'a hand or two."
"I don't need your hands, thank you," you reply curtly, eyes scanning over the diner when you see his features change.
"No need to be rude, I was jus' offering. Bein' a gentleman."
You chuckle shortly, "I'm sorry, but I'm not a damsel in distress. And I don't need rescuing. Thanks for the offer, though."
You hear someone snorting faintly at your response, but it certainly isn't the man sitting across from you. He looks too upset to be amused by your words.
"Fine," he huffs as he gets up to walk back toward his friends, "No need to be a bitch."
This time, you actually roll your eyes, dropping your head into your hands with a heavy sigh. What a gentleman.
Ten minutes later, the not-such-a-gentleman and his friends leave the diner, and you release another audible sigh. He glances at you over his shoulder as he walks out, but you don't meet his gaze, choosing instead to look over the map you have spread out on the table.
But then you jolt up when a plate is placed on your table with a clink, the waitress from earlier smiling down at you, "Your pancakes, sweets."
You look up at her in confusion, your gaze dropping to the stack of pancakes placed unceremoniously on top of your map, "Uh, what?"
"Pancakes," she quips, blowing out another pink bubble, "With whipped cream."
"I didn't order pancakes," you reply with a shake of your head.
"It's on him," she points her thumb over her shoulder, gesturing to a man sitting at the breakfast bar, "Said you looked hungry."
You peer around her to get a look at the man, but he's not looking in your direction. Your gaze falls over the long, brown hair that's curling up at the ends from the heat, a trucker hat covering the top of his head. He's dressed in a blue denim shirt, of which you can only see his broad back, and denim jeans with a pair of black boots to finish off the look.
You look back at the waitress, asking with a whisper, "Uh, who is he? Are these safe?"
She chuckles with a hearty nod, "Yes, honey. That's Ari, he's a regular. Good guy. Enjoy your pancakes."
Your brows furrow as she walks off, eyes drifting back to the stranger who just bought you food.
Ari.
You're just about to say something, or perhaps refuse the pancakes in case he bought them hoping for anything in return, but when he doesn't look back at you, your eyes move to the plate in front of you.
Your stomach growls loudly when you inhale and the sweet scent fills your nostrils and it only takes you a moment to dig in.
You're eating like a starved animal which, in fairness, you practically are. You have very limited options when it comes to food if you want your small wad of cash to last all the way to New York.
Once you've practically inhaled your food you sit back in the seat with a content sigh, a wide smile on your face. You turn your head to thank the stranger for the meal, but when you look to his spot at the bar, he's no longer there.
Your brows furrow for a moment, you're not used to anyone buying you a meal and not at least trying to talk to you in return, but you honestly don't mind.
This is perfect.
An hour later you need to use the restroom. You pack up your things to bring them with you - you have absolutely no intention of leaving your only possessions unattended at a diner - and ask the waitress to point you in the direction of it.
Your stomach drops when she tells you it's across the lot. It's getting late and it's dark outside, the thought of needing to walk out there in the darkness is unsettling.
You take a breath and square your shoulders before you march out the door determinedly; you're a big girl and darkness doesn't scare you.
You get to the toilet in no time and once you're done, you wash your hands and prepare yourself for the walk back, feeling more relaxed this time around.
But maybe you shouldn't be.
Because after just a couple of steps, an unfortunately familiar voice yells out at you.
"Hey, sweet cheeks! Sure you don't need a ride? Or how 'bout a place to spend the night?"
You turn towards the sound of the voice and see the brown-eyed man from earlier as he walks in your direction. You decide to ignore him, soldiering on as you take quick steps back to the diner, but you're not fast enough.
You flinch when his hand grabs your arm, pulling you roughly back to him, making you shriek.
"Hey! I'm talkin' to you!"
"Let me go!" You yell, trying to tug your arm out of his grasp, "Get the fuck off me and leave me alone, asshole!"
"You little bitch!" He spits, pulling you towards him again, trying to drag you out of the light covering the lot and towards the truck stop, "If you hadn't been such an entitled cunt I would've been nice, but that's too late now!"
You scream and resist when he tries to pull at you, yelling at him to let you go as you start kicking out for him. He grunts in annoyance, clearly not prepared for a fight, and just as you see him raise his hand to strike you, a loud voice makes him freeze.
"LET HER GO, RUMLOW!" The loud voice booms and suddenly someone is behind him, an arm wrapped around Rumlow's throat in a chokehold, "Let go you fucking piece of shit!"
Your arm is released immediately, the lights in the lot finally making you realize that the guy holding Rumlow in a chokehold is the brunette man from earlier.
Ari.
"Get off me, Levinson," Rumlow spits venomously, trying to break free, "She was actin' like a little bitch and I'm gonna-"
Ari roughly pushes him away, seething as he yells, "You're gonna do nothin' but climb into that shitty truck of yours and go to bed, you son of a bitch! You hear me?!"
Rumlow stares at him for a second before his eyes glance to you and then he grumbles out, "Fucking dickhead, why can't you ever just mind your business.." He walks off, in the direction of a truck parked a little away, and you're standing there, wide eyed and stunned as you process what the hell just happened.
"You okay?"
Your eyes move to Ari at the sound of his deep voice, his eyes scanning your face worriedly.
"Did he hurt you?"
You look into his eyes, the cerulean blue of them almost mesmerizing in the harsh light of the gas station, his thick beard covering what is clearly a chiseled jawline. His chest is covered by the same denim shirt from earlier, but a few of the top buttons are popped, revealing a small patch of hair. He looks to be in his late 30's or early 40's and he's big, bigger than you realized earlier, towering over you in his 6'3 frame, and most definitely built. But there's also a softness to him, the way he looks at you, the way he does his best to make his deep voice as soft as possible.
His tan skin makes the blue in his eyes burn even brighter, and you feel your heart beating in your chest as you hold his gaze.
But it's not beating because you almost just got attacked. It's beating for something else.
He tilts his head in question and that finally snaps you out of it, making you realize he asked you something.
"Y-yeah," you stutter, one hand running up your arm comfortingly as you shrink in on yourself, the thought of what might have happened if he hadn't stopped it finally settling in. "Yeah, I'm okay."
Ari eyes you for a moment, clearly not believing you, taking a hesitant step closer. "You sure?"
You nod again, although you know you're not, and he drops his head a little as he sighs, "Alright then. Have a good night."
Just when he's about to walk off you realize that once he leaves, you're a sitting duck inside that diner. It's late now, there are barely any people left at this point, and if you're alone, you're an easy target. Who knows what that asshole might do.
"W-wait," you quickly say as he's about to turn around, "C-could I, uh.. Where are you going?"
Ari's brows furrow as he looks at you, "Right now, to sleep. Gotta get on the road early tomorrow."
Fucking hell.
You glance back towards the diner, and the few people still inside it, and then back at the truck Rumlow just walked into. It's in direct view of it.
You have limited options, but you don't really know if trying to hitch a ride with Ari is better than walking back into the diner. But then you remember the waitress' words from earlier; he's a regular. Good guy.
And, he bought you pancakes, without expecting even as much as a thank you in return.
You look back at Ari with wide eyes as you take a step closer to him, your voice low, "C-could I maybe.. Could I come with you?"
Ari looks you over for a moment, glancing over at the diner and then to Rumlow's truck before he sighs and nods, "Yeah, sure. C'mon."
He places a protective hand on the small of your back as he guides you to his truck and to your own surprise, the touch doesn't feel unnerving. It feels comforting, soothing even.
You walk side by side until you reach an 18-wheeler, the blue cab seeming larger than what you've usually seen.
Ari unlocks it and climbs onto the step to open the door before offering you a hand to help you inside. You take it with a small smile as you climb into the raised front compartment, immediately looking around the cockpit once you enter.
He keeps it organized and tidy; something you've rarely seen on your travels so far. He has a few things on the dash, one of them being a girl wearing a hula skirt (that probably sways when he drives) and he has a picture of a little girl taped to the spot right above his gearshift.
There's a pair of sunglasses lying haphazardly on the seat, probably the pair he wears when he drives.
"It's not much but it works," Ari mumbles as he steps inside behind you, immediately locking the passenger side door.
He brushes past you, maneuvering around you in the small space of the cockpit, before he pushes the curtain hiding the back aside.
You smile softly when your eyes move over his small sleeping space; he has two pillows and a duvet in matching bedding, pictures hanging on the wall of himself with other people, and a small bedside lamp that you'd assume has been hung with double sided tape, or the likes of it. He also has a thick book lying at the edge, one that he quickly picks up and places on the driver's seat.
Your eyes move over the title when Ari starts fussing about, clearly a little flustered that he suddenly has company, and your smile turns wider when you recognize the book.
"Jane Eyre?" You ask as you look back at Ari, watching how he's hunched over on the bed to get it in order. You can sense muscles moving and flexing under the denim shirt he's wearing, and it makes you wonder how a long haul trucker has time to work out.
Ari glances at you over his shoulder, his eyebrows furrowed until he notices the book. He chuckles, "Oh, yeah. I've read it a few times. It's one of my favorites."
He straightens to look at you, placing his hands on his hips as he releases a breath, "Alright, should be all set now."
You smile as you sit down on the passenger seat, placing your backpack on the floor in front of you as you lean back into the cushion, "Okay, cool. Goodnight then."
Ari frowns, glancing back at the bed behind him before he looks at you again, "What? Aren't you gonna go to bed?"
You match his expression as you tilt your head, "Yeah, uh, I'm here?" You toe off your sneakers before you pull your feet onto the seat, your back leaning against the door, "I'm ready for sleep."
Ari scoffs and shakes his head, "Absolutely not."
You blink in surprise at his offended tone, "What?"
"You're not sleeping like that, of course you aren't. C'mon, it's ready for you."
You glance at the small bed behind the cab, your cheeks heating up a little when you notice that he actually made the bed to make it more enticing. You look back up at Ari, "Listen, I really appreciate getting to sleep here, but I'm fine right where I am. I'm already intruding on your personal space, and besides, I'm not really comfortable sleeping in the same bed with a man I just met, so.."
You trail off when you hear yourself, realizing how ungrateful you sound, but it's also the truth. You wouldn't be comfortable, despite how fucking handsome he is, because you don't know anything about him.
To your surprise, Ari just chuckles as he drops his head, his hands staying firm on his hips, "As nice as that sounds sweetheart, I wasn't plannin' on sleeping next to you. I gotta drive early, I'll be able to get a few hours tops, so I was gonna sleep out here and you can sleep in the back."
Your eyes widen, immediately shaking your head, "Oh, no, please, I couldn't take your bed, I'm already-"
"It's not a problem," Ari cuts you off, putting his hand up to stop you, "Please. I wouldn't be alright with you sleeping out here when I'm in there. C'mon, get in there and you can get some shuteye."
You hold eye contact for a few seconds, trying to decipher if he's really serious or not, but when he just raises an expectant brow, you get up from your seat.
You hesitantly walk closer until you need to brush past him to get into the small space, butterflies tumbling around your stomach when you feel his body heat practically radiating off him.
He offers you a soft smile as you take a seat on the bed, he himself sitting on the driver's seat before he takes off his trucker hat and places it on the passenger seat.
You watch as he pushes a hand through his hair, the long locks falling wildly around his face once they're no longer held back by his hat. Your eyes trail over the side of his face, lingering on his thick beard covering his cheek before they move down the side of his neck. You spot a few beauty marks on his tan skin, and you can tell despite the shirt that his chest is firm.
When he senses your stare, he looks over at you, immediately making you clear your throat as your eyes dart away.
"You can pull the curtain if you want some privacy, sweetheart. You should get ready for bed and get some sleep. It's late and I'm pretty sure you've been walkin' all day."
Your cheeks heat a little when you look back at him, meeting his beautiful blue eyes, "Yeah, I have, actually. Thank you. And thank you for this, Ari. I really appreciate it. What, uh.. What time should I get up and leave tomorrow?"
"You only gotta leave if you want," he replies with a warm smile, "What direction are you headed?"
"New York," you reply with a small smile, your eyes focusing on your hands.
Ari nods, "Then you just need to get up when you wake up. I'm heading that direction myself. I'll give you a ride as far as I can."
"Really?" You ask as you look back up at him.
He chuckles, shooting you a breathtaking smile, "Of course, sugar. It's no problem. Besides, it'll be nice to have some company. Now, off to sleep you go."
He settles into the seat, making it clear that it's time for bed, and you chuckle to yourself as you pull the curtain closed. You put on an oversized shirt to sleep in once you're undressed, and then you snuggle under the soft covers, humming happily at how comfortable it feels.
You turn over on your side to face the closed curtain as you whisper, "Ari?"
He hums, "Mhmm?"
"Thanks for the pancakes."
He chuckles tiredly, "You're welcome, sugar. Sweet dreams."
You smile as your nuzzle your face into the pillow, inhaling the clean but somehow musky scent imbedded in it, before you drift off to sleep.