Page 67 of Road Trip to Forever
Because none of them are her.
I’ve tried so hard to fight it. I’ve tried to prevent myself from falling for my best friend, but I’m weak. I’m weak and I failed and I couldn’t help myself. She’s too wonderful, too goddamn perfect to ignore.
I do love Lola.
I love her with everything I have, and I think I’ve always loved her. I love her more than anything else in this world, and I know I’ll never date another woman ever again. I can’t give anyone else a piece of my heart. Not when Lola owns the whole damn thing. It wouldn’t be fair.
If that means ending up alone and existing in the state of best friends forever, then so be it.
I’m going to tell her. Ineedto tell her. Keeping a secret from her is the last thing I ever want to do, but I want her to figure out her feelings on her own. Unaided, without pressure from how I might be thinking. She has to be the one to decide what’s going to make her the happiest, even if it hurts me in the process.
“Some of them have cared, yes,” I say after seconds of silence. There’s no point in lying to her. “But I don’t want to be with someone who doesn’t respect our friendship and the history we have.”
“Oh,” Lola says. A frown seeps through the word, harsh and brittle. I shield my eyes and glance up at her. The late afternoon sun frames her face like a halo, and she’s biting her lip, deep in thought. “Did you know I was mad at you when you introduced us to Jessica?”
“What? Why?”
“You lied to me. You were keeping your new relationship a big secret, and then when you finally shared what was going on in your life, you told everyone else at the same time you told me. It made me feel like you were hiding it, like you didn’t want me to know.” She waves her hands and crouches beside me. “It’s in the past. No big deal.”
“Hey. No. I’m sorry I ever made you feel that way. That was shitty. I was afraid to tell you about her. It meant we would spend less time together. You always pull back when I’m dating someone. We hang out less, talk less. It was selfish of me to want to hold on to you a little while longer.”
“I pull back because I don’t want the woman you’re dating to get the wrong idea or think I’m going to swoop in and try to steal you from them. Men and women can be friends with no romantic undertones to their relationship,” Lola says, sounding frustrated.
“Of course they can. But what happens when there are romantic undertones?” I ask.
“I don’t… I don’t know.” Lola wipes her hands on her overalls, a handprint of dirt staining the denim. She’s puzzled by my question. “That changes things. Can you still be friends with someone after you’ve been with them in a non-friendly way?”
“We kissed—almost kissed, I guess, if we’re being honest—and we’re doing okay. That was far past friendly.”
She jerks her chin up and stares at me. “You don’t consider that a kiss?”
“No.”
“Was it bad?”
“What? No, it wasn’t bad.”
“Then why don’t you consider it a kiss?”
“Because if I kissed you for real, Lola, it would be intentional. It would mean something. It wouldn’t be a half-second, accidental graze in some cramped room because we were both turning different ways. It would be special. Carefully planned and Hollywood-level. A display of sickening affection, so the whole damn world knows you’re mine. It would last long enough to figure out what you like and what you don’t like.” I lean forward, eliminating the free space between us until the air grows thick and heavy. “And then I’d do it again because Icould,because I wanted to.”
Her eyes bounce to my mouth and linger there for a half second before darting away. “Well,” she says. Her voice squeaks and she drops a stake to the ground. The metal rolls away, down a small ravine toward the water. “That’s good to know.”
“Very good to know.”
“It’s better than fine,” she answers, and I snort out a laugh.
I’ve flustered her by laying it all out there, by showing her my hand and putting the ball in her court. She knows what I want. It’s time for her to decide whatshewants, andfuck, I hope it’s me.
I grab the mallet by my thighs. “Can you hold the stakes steady? We should get everything up before nightfall.”
“What? Oh. Sure. No problem.” She sits up on her knees and grabs another pole. “Like this?”
“Atta girl,” I say, and she flushes deep scarlet, pretty shades of pink on her neck.
“Promise not to hurt me?” she asks.
Her eyes meet mine. She has dirt on her forehead and fresh freckles span over the bridge of her nose. Here we are, surrounded by incredible nature, incredible scenery, incredible displays of how big and vast the world is, and I can’t look at the trees. I can’t look at the water or the birds flying overhead.
