Page 134 of Road Trip to Forever
“IKEA is our second stop after we get wasted on Natty Ice,” I say.
“Okay, now you’re definitely lying. I know IKEA is your idea of hell. One way in, one way out,” Lola says.
“What happens if you only want to look at dining room furniture? You’re forced to see bunkbeds, couches, desk chairs and office filing cabinets. It's cruel to make someone walk that far for a table.”
“If you won't tell me where we're going, will you at least confirm that food is included?” she says. “I’m starving, and I need to know if I should dip into my contingency snacks.”
“What do you have hiding in your purse, Jones? A seafood buffet?”
“Gross. No. I hate lobster. I prefer to stick to the more refined meal choices of pretzels and a peanut butter sandwich.” There’s a mischievous curve to her mouth as she adds, “And a sleeve of Oreos.”
“A whole ass sandwich? That’s commitment. For what it’s worth, I would never plan an excursion with you that didn’t include food. I know you better than that,” I say. I switch lanes as our exit off the highway approaches in the distance, the green sign directing us to our final destination, Topsfield Fairgrounds, thirty miles outside the city.
“Sometimes I think you know me better than I know myself,” Lola says. She reaches over and rests her hand on my forearm, her palm warm and soft on my skin.
“That’s what happens when you’re around someone for years. You learn everything about them. All their nuances and inner workings. I know you’re the same way with me,” I say.
“Yeah.” She grins. “Like how you can only sleep with the top sheet on your side of the bed. You have to eat your breakfast before you have your coffee. You hate Brussel sprouts but love broccoli. You’d live in those frayed Levi’s of yours if you could. Wow. I do know you. Think of all the time we’ve lost, not telling each other how we feel.”
“I wanted to keep it to myself so I didn’t scare you away. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing your friendship, and Lola Jones is not a relationship woman. Imagine if I had barged into your apartment and shouted that I loved you before our trip.”
“I might have thought you’d lost your mind.”
Lola laughs, the sound filling the cab of my Jeep. I want to hold onto the noise forever and find a way to get her to do that every day. I wasn’t lying when I said her laugh is one of my favorite things about her. It sinks into my skin, a song that makes me feel alive. Like I have a purpose and I’m loved.
“Instead of thinking about time we’ve lost, think about all the time we have to look forward to,” I counter, slowing as we approach a red light. I rest my arm over the back of her seat and play with the ends of her hair. She’s wearing it down today, the pink streaks almost entirely faded from the blonde strands. Pieces frame her face and I tuck them away behind her ear so I can lean over and kiss her cheek. “I’d rather look forward to the future than regret the past.”
She sighs wistfully and inches her fingers down my arm, her palm settling against mine. “You’ve always been so insightful. Wise beyond your years.”
“It’s better than being a blowhard, right?”
“Infinitely better than being a blowhard.”
We settle into comfortable silence as we turn left then right, driving closer and closer to the fairgrounds. A rush of nerves floods my veins when I pull up to our first stop of the night, suddenly worried I’ve massively fucked this up. Gone overboard with our first outing on our home turf, back in reality and away from the blissful bubble of vacation.
I put the car in park and set the emergency brake. Lola sits up, her interest piqued, and glances around. There’s a massive screen in front of us, and other cars lined up in rows. People are spreading out blankets, and the smell of popcorn hangs in the air.
“Patrick. Are we at a drive-in movie theater?” she asks, awe and wonder behind the question.
“We are. I wanted to take you on a real first date,” I say.
“We’ve already slept together.” Lola laughs again. “We’ve also already said I love you, and we’ve been home for over a week. I feel like we’re doing everything out of order.”
“Maybe we are, but I wanted you to have some fun outside our apartments. You’ve been working so hard on finding a building for your shop and catching up on the commissions you’ve gotten since the show. I’m proud of you, honey. You need a night off though, so that’s what we’re doing.”
“How did you know I’ve always wanted to go to a drive-in theater?”
“I have a confession to make.” I turn and face her across the center console, taking her other hand in mine and staring into her eyes. “I created that list about your bad dates for selfish reasons. It was a way for me to keep track of all the things you didn’t like, because if I was somehow lucky enough to ever get the courage to ask you on a date, I wanted it to be perfect. I know you like to be somewhere outside so you don’t feel constricted. You want to do an activity so if the conversation turns awkward or stale, you have something else to focus on. Food has to be involved, obviously, and a showing of your favorite film doesn’t hurt either.”
Lola launches herself at me, her arms looping around my neck and her lips pressing a kiss to my jaw. “Thank you,” she says. “Best first date ever.”
“Worth the wait?” I ask.
“Definitely worth the wait.”
THIRTY-NINE
PATRICK
