Page 54 of Road Trip to Forever
“I had sand in my pants. It was miserable.” Patrick folds the map and tucks it in the back pocket of his shorts. “Are you almost ready to go? We’ve got eight hours on the road, then the adventure begins.”
“Isn’t there a saying about how it’s not the destination that matters, but the journey?”
“The person who came up with that saying didn’t have to sit in miles and miles of traffic. Forty-five minutes in a stand-still gridlock on the way to New York might make me lose my mind.”
“At least we have snacks.” I point to the bag I put together, the canvas packed to the brim with chips and cookies. A veggie tray and crackers with an assortment of cheese. Enough food to last us for days if we got stranded in the middle of nowhere.
“I’d go on a road trip with you any day, Lola Jones.”
“High praise from the man who doesn’t like to travel,” I say. “I’m almost ready. I want to check the garment bags one more time and make sure all the outfits are there.”
“You made a list, right?”
“Yeah. I also labeled everything with color-coded stickers and divided them by category.”
“Atta girl. I’ll do a final check before we leave, too.”
Oh hell.
Heat inundates my body. It creeps up from my chest to my neck and face, and I turn my back to him. I grab a dirty bowl sitting in the sink, trying my best to not linger on the way his encouragement—atta girl—moves down my spine, reaches around my belly and swoops low, making a dull ache form between my legs.
“You don’t have to do that,” I say. “There are tons of pieces.” A spoon I used for my cereal slips out of my hold and clatters against the stainless steel
“I’m well aware I don’t have to do anything,” Patrick says. It’s sharp and firm, the same voice I’ve heard him use with his students when he needs someone to listen to him. I knock over a bottle of dish soap and an army of suds erupts in the sink. “When will you learn I do things because Iwantto, Lola, not because Ihaveto?”
He’s closer than he was a few seconds ago, crowding my space and in my bubble. His chest is against my back and his hands are on either side of the counter, caging me in.
I have nowhere to go, and I think I’ve stopped breathing.
The memory of his palm on my hip, his face buried in the crook of my neck as we danced at Henry and Emma’s party is seared in my mind. He dipped, I twirled, and every time our eyes collided, a wall inside me crumbled. The slow demise of the lines we’ve meticulously drawn erased and rewritten.
I need him.
I’ve always needed him, a rock against crashing waves. The lighthouse guiding me to safer water. The anchor keeping me from drifting out to sea. He’s persistent, true North.
But now Ineedhim.
I didn’t mean to kiss him the night of the wedding. I thought I was being bold by pecking his cheek. Then he turned and my mouth found his, as if I had been searching for it all along.
It lasted a second—maybe not even that long—and it wasn’t even directly on the lips, andstill,I felt the planets align. I saw shooting stars and Iyearnedfor him, my soul desperate to cling to his.
I wanted to do it again.
I still want to do it again.
I want the curve of his muscles under my palms and the warmth of his skin against mine. To explore every line, every divot, every inch of his body until I have him committed to memory. I want to know him so deeply that I’d be able to recognize him with my eyes closed, relying on steady hands and steady sounds to identify his shape and know that he is there. No barriers, no restraints. Just us.
I dreamed about Patrick after the wedding. He was down the hall in his room, sleeping soundly and unaware of the thoughts coursing through my head. Indecent thoughts about my best friend, ones I’ve never had before and now can’t seem to escape.
Of him lifting me onto the counter and whispering in my ear to show him what makes me feel good. What I like best. His hand under my dress, over my underwear, circling with perfect precision. Unraveling me thread by thread, piece by piece, until I was nothing but a boneless heap of unadulterated pleasure and satisfaction.
“Right,” I say. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to get rid of the visions. “I’m still learning.”
“It’s always going to be the case.” Patrick reaches for the bottle sitting on the granite countertop next to the knife block. He turns the top open and drops a capsule in my hand. “Take your medicine.”
“Thanks.” I pop the pill in my mouth and nudge his stomach with my elbow. “Let’s load up before I eat all of this food.”
“Except for the raisins in the trail mix. You hate those.”
