“What was that?” Steven cried. All amorous thoughts had fled his mind.
Above them, hooves clicked along the roof, clomping just inches from their heads. Carlos shrank into the far corner of the car, gaze glued skyward. Steven huddled on the floorboards, the wide expanse of the seat a gulf between them. In a tiny voice, Carlos suggested, “Maybe it’s a deer.”
“On top of the fucking car?” Steven cried, incredulous. “You got to be kidding me.”
Something thin and long whipped against the rear window, out of sight behind the condensation fogging up the glass. Still, Steven closed his eyes to keep from seeing it. To keep from thinking it. “God damn it, Carl,” he muttered, trying to swallow around the lump in his throat. “You had to wreck the car, didn’t you?”
Beside him, Carlos snipped, “What’s that supposed to mean?”