Page 38 of Wish Lists and Road Trips

His eyes ran the length of me, bouncing like one of those little red balls that help kids learn to read—eyes, neck, chest, legs. Away. “Sorry. Not happening.”

My shoulders sank, tears rushing the corner of my eyes. I didn’t know why this was suddenly so important to me, to get out of this room, but I did know I’d been distracted by one mishap or another since I got left on that dock, and I couldn’t bear the thought of slowing down, sitting in a quiet hotel room and letting my thoughts go all free-range. It was too early to sleep, so I wanted to keep going. And I really wanted him to come with me.

Sometimes when Nick and I looked at each other, the forces that seemed to be keeping us together buzzed between us undeniably, and sometimes I felt like he was merely putting up with me. Would he really rather sit here alone? What was it about me that was so damn unlikeable?

I’d worked myself into a huff about it by the time he was finished lining his toiletries on the dresser like toy soldiers. I was tired and hungry again and,God, every single reason that I was here was painful and miserable and I was trying to make it fun. Couldn’t we at least make a few memories?

Nick turned around and did a double take at my face, which I was sure was splotchy and red. This was why no one took me seriously. I had all of these brilliant points lining up in my head: Feminism! Carpe Diem! But instead, my teeth were clenched shut and a solitary tear had squeezed its way free from my left eye doing a tell-all tour down my cheek.

“Brit . . .” His face softened and my heart flickered with hope.

“Please, Nick?”

We stared off for a few heavy breaths and I started to doubt my effectiveness. But then his eyes rolled closed and he did that nose-bridge pinch thing. The heaviness of his sigh told me he couldn’t refuse me. “Can I take a shower first?”

A smile bloomed across my face and I felt wings sprout. “Yes!” I turned to the bed where my bag was splayed open, then looked back over my shoulder. “Thanks, Nicky.”

He shook his head, but he was smiling. “You’re welcome.”

It was the tears that got me. Those two little circles of red on her cheeks as she tried to hold it in. I had an aversion to it these days, crying, but Brit crying had nearly gutted me. Twice now seeing her upset had flipped some sort of rational thought switch in my brain. Whether it was considering kicking some guy’s ass at the airport or calling an Uber to take us to a bar in rural Louisiana when I should be sleeping, I wanted to do whatever I could to fix it.

After I’d done a quick wash-off of the grime and sweat of the road, I threw on the jeans and black T-shirt I’d bought at Target and was now stuck with until we got the car back. Brit had used the same amount of time to transform herself from road trip tourist to belle of the ball—or, I guess, belle of this outdoor country bar.

She’d ditched her T-shirt and turned her skirt back into a dress with some girl magic. Her face was already done up, but she’d pulled half of her hair up into a knot, the rest hanging in big curls over her shoulders. She was gorgeous. I knew she would be, which was half of my hesitation at the two of us going out together. Too much low light and booze—memories of her in my boxers. The other half was I didn’t really want to share her. I wouldn’t have minded hanging out with her tonight, just the two of us, but saying no to her was something I was finding increasingly harder to do.

At least the bar she’d picked didn’t suck. I worried she would drag me to some dance club with artificial smoke and bad mash-ups, but here people danced on packed dirt and threw darts at boards nailed to tree trunks. It was easy to imagine you were just hanging out in a friend’s backyard.

My cousins had a backyard like this—a fire pit and yard games. Like me, they’d invested in a duplex from the company inventory, and they lived on either side. If either of them knew I was here when I’d turned down a hundred offers to go out for a beer after work, they’d be pissed. Then again, if they’d seen Brit crying, they’d probably understand.

So here I was, at a bar in a Louisiana swamp with my temporary friend who looked like an angel in that white dress. To my own surprise, or maybe not, I wasn’t hating it.

“Ha!” Brit pumped a fist when her beanbag thunked into the hole she’d been aiming for. “Beat that.”

She’d challenged me to a game of cornhole on the boards the bar had set up in a stray patch of dirt. It didn’t take a lot of convincing.

I stepped to the line on the ground and lined up my shot, weighing the bag in my palm. I was killing her, so I decided not to put too much effort into my throw.

I made it anyway.

“Beatthat,” I said, nudging her arm.

“Ugh. Do you have to be good at everything?”

I chuckled, feeling myself settle into the warmth of an oncoming buzz. Those damn Rummy Bears were potent, and she’d already made me shoot tequila with our first round of drinks. My head was in that perfect place where the edges of the world started to blur but I could still function enough for games that required hand–eye coordination. At leastIcould.

I winked at her. “Sorry. Perfectionism isn’t something I can help.”

I watched her size up her next toss. She didn’t have an efficient bone in her body and she spent a ridiculous amount of time stretching and covering one eye for better aim, only to have made two shots the entire night.

“I can teach you how to throw better,” I said, sipping from my bottle of IPA.

“And I could teachyouhow to be less patronizing,” she shot back. “But I’m in the middle of my turn.”

I laughed, unwounded. I liked her comebacks. They reminded me of the Shakespeare quote: “Though she be but little, she is fierce.” It eased my mind a little when it drifted to all the ways she could have gotten into trouble without me here.

“Come on,” I said as she made a show of stretching her hamstrings. “I’ve been playing this since I was a kid, that’s why I’m beating you.” I put on a cocky smile I’d forgotten I owned and bumped her with my elbow. “I’ll show you how to be a stud like me.”

Her eyes narrowed but they flashed with just the tiniest bit of something else. Nerves maybe. Whatever it was, I liked it.

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