Page 8 of Mud, Love, and Chemistry

“No. I’ll come to you. There are three other girls in my room. We won’t get a word in edgewise.”

To my relief, Sam laughs. “Okay, I’ll text you my hotel and room number. I’m sure we can find something to do.”

I’ve already got a list going in my head; minigolf, a movie, the mall. My rampant ideas get cut short when my ice cream drips onto my hand. I forgot all about it.

“Sounds good,” I say, trying to wear my ice cream down enough to stop it from dripping more.

As we say our goodbyes and hang up, I chomp into my cone, grinning from ear to ear. I’m sure I look like the goofiest person on the planet, but I don’t care. I get to hang out with Sam.

Chapter 3

What the fuck am I doing?

My grip on the steering wheel of Lisa’s car is so tight, my knuckles aren’t white, they’re transparent. When I agreed to meet up with Sam, it didn’t even faze me. Sure, I can go meet some guy I barely know in his hotel room in a city that’s not my home. Why not?

I run my palm down my face, but tear it away as I remember I’m actually wearing makeup. Lisa insisted, so I allowed her to put the bare minimum on me. One neutral shade of eyeshadow, some light mascara, and a dab of lip gloss, but that’s it.

She wanted to pick my outfit too, but luckily, I didn’t bring an extensive wardrobe. I threw on a pair of comfy jogging shorts and an aqua-colored tank top. When I told her that color makes the blue of my eyes pop, it seemed to satisfy her.

As Jackie French-braided my hair, my three friends and I sat around three large pizzas as they all swooned over Sam. They giggled about his flirty text messages. They chided me for not letting him come to our room so they could meet him. They even went as far to say they couldn’t wait to hear about our date. Our date. I told them that’s not what this is.

Is it?

I date so little I have no idea. In my mind, a date is dinner and a movie, something that’s planned in advance. It’s certainly not a half-assed meetup at some guy’s hotel room. That’s more like a booty-call.

“Ugh! What the fuck am I doing?”

Slapping the steering wheel with my palm, I pull Lisa’s Honda Accord with the broken side mirror into the parking lot of the Travel Lodge. At least this beat-up car will match the beat-up hotel. I could think of worse places to stay, but you get arrested for sleeping in the street.

The parking lot and sidewalks are cracked, but it seems like they’ve been at least spraying the weeds. Faded paint and chipped trim welcome me as I reach the entrance. Stepping inside, I hear the door chime right before I’m blasted in the face by air-conditioning. I gasp, but immediately clamp my mouth shut. The air doesn’t taste like the normal staleness. Instead, this tastes…wrong.

That’s the best way I can describe it.

With my lips sealed, I have to breathe through my nose and that’s even worse. Now I’m getting hints of cigarettes mixed with body odor, and it makes me nauseous. Is that what I just tasted? I bite the inside of my cheek, steeling myself before I take a big breath to hold as I walk down the hall to the elevators. I have to do it again once I’m inside.

I punch the button for the third floor over and over, wanting the door to close as quickly as possible. The farther from the lobby I get, the better. I hope this breath will last me long enough to get to Sam’s room. When the elevator doors finally open, I quickly direct myself toward room 305. A relieved sigh escapes me when I realize it’s only a few doors down.

I knock before exhaling. As I take in little sips of air, I notice my toes tapping against the floor. A good sign that I’m actually excited for this. I haven’t wanted to put myself out there in a year, and to an extent, this feels good. I don’t know what’s in store for me tonight, but I do know my curiosity needs to be sated.

After a few moments, I knock again.

No answer. Great. I probably have the worst timing and he’s in the bathroom. What a way to begin a date.

I shake my head. This isn’t a date!

Before I can argue with myself any more, the door opens, and my anxiety ebbs as Sam comes into full view.

He stands in the doorway, his hair a damp mess with curls spilling all around his head. The light-brown strands glint in the fluorescent lighting. His dark brown eyes widen before a grin spreads across his clean-shaven face.

“Hey,” he says quietly.

“Hey,” I respond, also quiet. So quiet in fact, I’m not even sure I heard myself. I clear my throat. “Hey.” Better that time.

“I’m almost ready to go.” He steps back to allow me to enter. “Do you want to come in?”

I hesitate, but the softness in his eyes reassures me, so I nod and step past him. Making sure to keep my posture confident, I say, “I found a few things we can go do, but they’re all across town.”

“I’m up for anything.” He shuts the door before turning to face me and putting his hands in his pockets. “But I don’t have a car here, and Walt won’t let anyone touch his baby, so if you don’t mind driving...”

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