Page 55 of Road Trip

CHAPTER

EIGHTEEN

MATT

Cape Charles, VA

Cape Fucking Charles, Virginia.

Population: old people, tourists, and Jacob.

I’d been busting my gut to get out of Cape Charles forever, and now Jacob was driving us right on back there. Turn left on the highway just past the Food Lion at the white and blue sign that promised people they’d love our town. Then down Stone Road past all the familiar houses and fields, watching as the distant water tower grew closer and closer. And once you hit the water tower, you were in town.

Jacob didn’t ask before he turned off at the Food Lion, just headed for his place like always, instead of mine. My mom usually worked late, and I usually ate at Jacob’s place and had done forever. I was probably going to get a grilling from Mr. and Mrs. Mercer over the whole California clusterfuck, but at least I’d get fed as well.

When we made it into town, it wasn’t dark yet. In the summer, it was light until about 8:00 p.m., which gave me time to figure out where I’d be staying tonight, at least. I hadn’t heard from my mom since she’d texted me in California. I’d messaged her and told her we were heading back. I figured I’d just show up on herdoorstep and hope for the best. What was that saying? Home was where they had to take you in, or something like that. Mind you, that felt like it had been written by someone who wasn’t trying to squeeze three adults and one guitar collection into a double-wide.

I hadn’t told Jacob any of that. What was the point? He’d only worry. Instead, I’d spent the drive back doing my best ostrich impression and pretending this really was just a fun road trip with my new boyfriend where we stayed in motels and slept naked next to each other. But that river in Egypt was looking pretty fucking dry right now, and reality was looming.

After being on the highway for so long, it felt like we’d slowed to a crawl in the familiar streets of Cape Charles, like I could get out and walk faster. We turned onto Plum Street and drove past the park, past houses with their Fourth of July bunting still up, and we finally made the turn into Peach Street, where we pulled into the driveway at the Mercers’ house.

Jacob switched off the engine and sagged back into his seat with a sigh, and silence fell between us. I waited for him to get out, but he just sat there, staring at the steering wheel.

“Long fucking drive,” I muttered at last.

Jacob smiled and put his hand palm up on the center console. I put mine in it, and we laced our fingers together.

“Long fucking drive,” he agreed softly.

The front door of the Mercers’ house burst open, and Luke bolted down the steps. “Get in here, you dickwads!” he bellowed. “You’re late for dinner!”

“Luke!” Mr. Mercer yelled from inside the house.

“Sorry, Dad!” Luke yelled back and then waved across the road. “Sorry, Mrs. Pope!”

The old lady across the road flicked her garden hose in his direction, and an arc of water splattered on the street. It didn’t come anywhere near Luke, though.

I let go of Jacob’s hand. I wondered if he’d hold mine again with his parents watching. Had he told them we were together? Or was that one of those conversations that was better inperson? I’d always been shit at social cues but Jacob would know. And I’d find out what he was planning on telling them soon enough, if I could just get my shit together and get out of the car.

I sucked in a breath and opened the door at the same time Jacob did, and we got out.

And just like that, our road trip was over.

Luke dragged Jacob into a hug, then bounced around to the back of the RAV4 to help with our stuff, I guessed, or just to get in the way. Mr. and Mrs. Mercer came out of the house just as Jacob opened the back and dragged his backpack out, dropping it on the driveway. He pulled out a second bag that was filled with laundry and leaned in and reached for the tent.

It was only a cheap model, but it folded away to next to nothing and weighed even less, and if I was honest, the thought of that tent was the only thing that had kept me from panicking the whole drive back. Like, it was still warm at night. If Mom didn’t want me at home, at least I’d be able to camp out. “Hey. Can I have that?”

Jacob paused with one hand on the strap of the tent bag and turned to face me, his brow creased. “What?”

“The tent. Can I have it? It’s not like you’re gonna use it at Old Dominion.”

Jacob’s fingers flexed on the strap. “No, but I paid for it.”

I just glared. Usually that was enough to make Jacob back down, but it didn’t work.

He drew himself up to his full height and put his hands on his hips. “Matty, why do you want the tent?”

A tense moment passed before I caved. “Just…just in case, okay?”

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