Page 40 of Unholy Confessions
He has a bottle of water in his free hand, the other arm is slung over my shoulder holding me tight. "I can take the cap off and pour a little over your head. Would that work?" He laughs.
"You do that, and I'll cut off your playing fingers," I tease.
We move on to the next enclosure, which is inside and air conditioned. "The penguins have always been my favorite, especially since one was named after you."
He rolls his eyes. "I can't believe they named them after my whole family. I need to take a picture of Hannah to send to my mom. She has one framed, like it's one of her kids."
I watch as he pulls his phone out and takes a picture of the penguin with his mom's name around it's flipper, and send it to her.
He looks over. "Now I'll be the favorite for a little bit."
I'm about to say something when we're interrupted by some more teenage girls, who squeal and ask if he's RJ. There are more photos, more autographs, more conversations with strangers who feel like they know him. The longer I stand there, I become part of the background, the girl standing awkwardly to the side while her boyfriend gets swarmed by fans.
By the time we reach the African savanna exhibit, I'm feeling kind of like I shouldn't even be here. Especially with the way we have to keep it moving, in order for people to not trap us.
"Look at those giraffes," RJ says, pointing toward the tall enclosure where several giraffes are gracefully moving around. "Remember when we came here for your eighteenth birthday and you said you wanted to be reincarnated as a giraffe?"
I laugh despite how annoyed I am. "I said they looked peaceful. And elegant"
"You are elegant," he says, pulling me closer to the fence. "Especially this graceful neck." He pushes me against the fence, then comes up behind me, and stands with his back to my front. Those fingers that are so famous for playing his guitar push my hair aside, and his lips find the bare skin of my neck for a kiss.
But then someone else recognizes him, and the moment is broken.
By lunch, I'm emotionally exhausted. We find a quiet table at the zoo's café, and I pick at my sandwich while watching RJ scroll through his phone, groaning when he has an email he has to reply to.
"Earth to Montgomery," he says, reaching across the table to touch my hand. "You've been quiet. Sorry I had to mess with email today, but it's about the European leg of the tour coming up."
"It's okay, I'm just tired," I say.
He studies my face, and I can see him trying to read my mood. Instead of pushing, he reaches for his drink and carefully unwraps the paper from his straw. My heart does a little flip because I know what's coming.
With practiced fingers, he twists the paper into a small ring. He reaches for my left hand and slides it onto my ring finger, just like he did on my sixteenth birthday, and every chance he's gotten to since then.
"There," he says, grinning. "Perfect fit."
"RJ..."
"I'm going to marry you someday, Montgomery," he says, just like he did all those years ago. But this time, instead of the flutter of excitement I used to feel, there's a heaviness in my chest.
This time, I'm not so sure.
But I don't say that out loud. Instead, I smile and let him think everything is fine, because maybe it will be. Maybe we just need more time like this.
The drive back to my apartment is quieter than the morning drive. RJ's hand rests on my thigh, his thumb drawing absent circles against my jeans, and I find myself watching him more than the scenery of Nashville melting into Franklin.
There's something different about him. Something I can't quite put my finger on. He seems more on edge, more restless. His fingers drum against the steering wheel at red lights, and he keeps checking his phone when he thinks I'm not looking.
"You okay?" I ask as we pull into my apartment complex.
"Yeah, just thinking about some stuff," he says, parking the truck. "Today was good though, right? I mean, aside from all the interruptions."
"It was good," I agree, because it was. Mostly.
He walks me to my door, his arm around my waist, and when we stop outside my apartment, I can feel the expectation in the air. The assumption that he'll come inside, like he always does.
But I'm not ready for that. Not after everything that's been happening between us. Not when I still feel like I don't know where we stand. Don't know where I actually want to stand. All I know is we had a good time today and I'm comfortable to leave it with that.
"I had a really good time today," I say, turning to face him.
