Page 138 of Road Trip to Forever
“You didn’t tell me that.”
“Because it’s embarrassing. These are our friends, Lo. They’re going to be happy for us. And if you want to wait another week to tell them, we can. We can hold them off a little while longer.”
“I know they’re going to be happy for us, but they’re also going to be weird as hell. I wouldn’t be shocked if there’s confetti and pre-made save the dates for the wedding we haven’t planned,” she says. “I don’t want to wait to tell them. I’m so bad at keeping secrets, the girls would get me to fold right away.”
“You are terrible at keeping secrets. You ruined my sweet sixteen because you let it slip I needed to buy a Hawaiian shirt for an important surprise party that coincidentally fell on my birthday.”
“I wanted to prepare you,” Lola exclaims. “You hate themed parties.”
“True. I think my mom believed my shocked face.”
“She definitely did. Darla was so proud she pulled off such an epic party. I just wish we could make our friends sweat a little, you know? I kind of want to piss them off while they try and figure out what’s going on between us.”
I arch an eyebrow, a plan forming. “What if we’re weird first and beat them at their own game?”
Lola pushes off the wall and stands on her toes, her lips near mine. “Do you have something in mind?”
“They all assume something happened on the trip. Henry won’t stop texting me a dozen question marks.”
“The girls are the same. I think Jo keeps FaceTiming me in hopes she’ll catch your naked ass hiding in the bathroom.”
“Dammit. That’s what we should have done.”
“Next time we hide our relationship, we’ll go the accidental-nudity-on-camera route,” she says.
“What if we start off the night by acting like we normally do—as friends? Halfway through dinner, you could walk over and sit in my lap or kiss my cheek. We’ll catch them off guard and be the ones to dictate how the night goes.”
Lola blinks. She breaks out into a grin and slowly nods her head, clasping her hands together like she’s an evil villain planning to wreak havoc on society.
“That’s genius. It’s better than genius. It’s the smartest thing I’ve heard in my entire life,” she says.
“Let’s not get carried away. Can you keep your hands to yourself?” I ask.
“Someone thinks highly of themselves.” She kisses my cheek and rests her head against my chest. I feel her sigh, and I think this might be the first time all evening that she’s settled down.
“I do think highly of myself, considering I made you come twice before we left your apartment,” I say, laughing as she swats my arm. “And because I make you smile.”
“Nice save there, buddy,” she says. The doors open to a long hallway and Lola moves away from me, creating unwanted distance. “For the record, I love the idea, but I hate pretending you’re not mine.”
“Want me to take off my shorts and show you my tattoos again?” I ask. “Those really prove that I’m yours.”
“Eh, that would probably would give away our plan too quickly,” she answers, stepping out of the elevator toward our friends’ apartment.
“If the girls don’t pull you to the side and ask to see a ring right away, I’ll be shocked,” I mumble as she knocks, transferring the bottle of chardonnay she’s holding to her other arm as we wait on the doormat. We picked it up on the way over, not wanting to show empty-handed to taco night.
“I didn’t realize a ring was on the table,” Lola says, hiding her grin by biting her bottom lip.
“With you, Lola, everything is on the table.”
The door flies open and we’re greeted with six expectant faces, all staring at us like we’re the main act of a circus show. I roll my eyes and put my hand on the small of Lola’s back, ushering her inside and flipping off Henry who wiggles his eyebrows in greeting.
Sure enough, Lola is whisked away, the women bowing their heads and whispering under their breath. She glances back at me over her shoulder, a soft smile on her lips that tells me she’s happy. Well and truly happy.
“Hey,” I say, grabbing a beer from the cooler in the kitchen. “What’s up?” I ask my four best friends.
“What’sup? You have a lot of nerve walking into my apartment with a smug grin on your face and not telling us what’s going on,” Henry says. He knocks his bottle against mine and we take a sip in tandem.
“Will you keep your voice down? Lola doesn’t know how I feel, and I’d appreciate it if we kept it that way,” I say, pretending to check that she’s not eavesdropping.
