Another long day of work, but thankfully, it'll be over soon and I'll get to rest. Trucking takes a lot out of you, and while I do consider myself lucky that I have a good relationship with my boss purely on the basis of liking the same baseball team and getting to talking way back on my first day of work, it's still tough, even with my lighter schedule. The sun's already down, and in this rural part of the country, the stars are bright and plentiful in the night sky. The last thing I did was pick up a new container from a steel mill in a little dump of a town, but that doesn't have to get to its destination until tomorrow, so my next destination is a rest spot about an hour from here. However, while I figured my trip there would be uneventful, I spot something that catches my eye.

There, standing under a streetlight near the outskirts of town, is a hitchhiker. Now, hitchhikers are always a bit of a mixed bag. I've met some great people on the road, but I've also met some crazy people. In fact, I've kind of sworn off picking up hitchhikers—not like it's expected of a trucker, anyway, we usually have places we got to go and shit—but something about him is strange. For one, hitchhikers usually have a destination they're carrying on a sign or something like that, you know, "Las Vegas or bust" or whatever. But this guy is holding a sign that simply reads "Anywhere but here", and that's unusual, so I stop by the side of the road and open my cabin door. "Anywhere but here, kid? That where you're going?" I ask him as he stands there, looking up at me, surely confused someone actually stopped for him.

It takes him a moment to catch himself, but when he does, he responds, "Yeah. This place is dead to me. I don't care where you're going, I just need a ride to whatever city you're going to next. Please... I've been standing here for hours."

There's a genuine desperation in his voice, I can tell. Whatever's happened to this guy, he must be convinced he has no other options left in this town, and I guess he's probably right, because this place is pretty damn remote. "Alright, kid, hop in," I tell him, and while it again takes a moment for him to process that, he does eventually climb into the passenger seat, fastens his seatbelt, and I drive off, away from this town. "Name's Nash, by the way. What's yours?"

"Cameron... but just call me Cam. I like it better... not that anyone there gave a crap," he answers, a real bitterness audible in his tone.

"Well, alrighty then, Cam. How old are you, then? You look about twenty to me." I ask him, rather curious about my new passenger.

A slight smile appears on his lips. "Close. I'm twenty-one. Barely old enough to drink, and evidently old enough to have my life ruined..." he says, followed by a heavy sigh.

Just from hearing him talk those few sentences, I already get a real impression that this kid has gone through some shit. I turn down the truck's sound system a bit so I can listen to him better, then continue talking. "You sound like you've had an eventful life. Care to share?"

"Might as well. Not a lot to tell, honestly, but maybe it'll give me some closure. I'm a doomed soul just like everybody else is in that damn town. Get born there, go to school there, work there, die there... well, I guess I dodged that last step. While I went to high school, I started wondering if I might be gay, and by the end I was sure, but I kept it locked up inside because this town doesn't exactly take kindly to gay people. After that, I took an apprenticeship in the steel mill, because that's where everybody works, and went through it fine... until someone I thought was a friend talked. Gossips spread, and before long, working was impossible with all the shit I got. And once I got fired and I told my parents why... well, they threw me out too. I'm basically broke with nowhere to go," Cam explains, and I can't help but feel so bad for him. Now I'm really glad I picked him up, who knows what would have happened to him if I didn't.

"Damn. That's some heavy shit..." is all I can say in return. For a while, we both say nothing, but it seems that just being able to say that and not being insulted in return is a big load off of him. Eventually, we start making some idle small talk, and all the while, I find myself getting more and more fond of Cam. He's a sweet guy, really, and he's just been thrown into a horrible situation that nobody should have to deal with. Honestly, I can't even imagine just dumping him off in whatever city I end up next anymore. I have to do something to help him out, and so, as we pull into the truck stop, I turn to look at him. "Cam, I'm gonna go get a room in the motel over there, and I want you to come along. I'm gonna get a two bed room, and you can stay with me, alright?"

Oh, he shakes his head and protests, he says, "No, Nash, I couldn't. I'll just sleep on the passenger seat or whatever, it's fine," but I insist. He deserves better than a rickety motel room, but that's the best I got right now, and I at least want him to have the best I got. And so, after a few more protests, he follows me along, I get a room for two—on company dime, thankfully—and we settle in. But after we both get ready for bed, Cam says something that complicates everything. "Nash... I think I love you."

Now it's my turn to shake my head and protest. "Whoa there, kid. Let's not say anything hasty, y'hear? Like, 'love' ain't no word you just throw around like that..." I begin, but Cam cuts me off.

"No, listen to me. I mean it. You have to understand... my entire life's been ripped from me. Everybody I thought loved me kicked me to the curb just because I find guys sexy instead of girls. You had no reason to care about me, some random hitchhiker standing on the side of the road... but not only did you pick me up, you actually care. You didn't have to do any of this. Look, I know this might be odd, but this... I don't know how to say it. I'm... in a tumultuous time of my life right now. Can... can I kiss you?"

This is going incredibly fast, but then again, who am I to argue with him? He wants to be happy. And if that means kissing a trucker in a dingy motel bedroom, so be it. I give him a nod. "Alright. Go for it, Cam."