Page 89 of Road Trip to Forever
“I could’ve stayed in there all night. Thank you for doing that for me.”
“You’re welcome. It’s probably for the best you got out when you did. After a few hours, you’d turn into a prune.”
“Would you still like me if I were a prune?” she asks, her smile wry and teasing.
“I’d like you even if you were a shriveled up grape.” I climb onto the bed next to her, the mattress sinking under my weight. “Do you want to keep reading? Head to bed? Watch a movie?”
“None of the above. I was hoping we could talk.”
“Sure.” I prop myself up on my elbow and stare down at her. “What do you want to talk about?”
Lola plays with her bracelet, turning it around and around on her wrist. It’s one of her habits, constantly needing something. “I want to talk about us.”
“What about us? Our schedules when we get home or something?”
“No. About what’s been going on the last few days.”
I blow out a breath. “Thank god. It’s been weird not talking about it, right?”
“Soweird. We’re good at communicating, but it feels like we’re skirting around this.”
“You did run from the tent this morning,” I point out.
Lola bites her bottom lip and smooths her hands over the comforter. “What we’re doing… what we’ve done… that hasn’t been weird, has it?”
“No,” I answer quickly. “Not at all.”
“I don’t think so either. Maybe we can keep doing what we’re doing?” she asks softly, nerves hedged around the question.
I reach out to her and wrap our fingers together. I run my thumb over her knuckles and she sighs.
“You’re too far away. Can I come closer?” I ask.
Lola’s smile is soft and certain as she blinks at me under a thick fan of dark eyelashes. “Yeah,” she whispers, a word I want to tattoo across my chest. “Come as close as you’d like.”
It takes all the diminishing power in me to not launch myself at her. To not scoop her in my arms and rock her back and forth, telling her that her and me? We’re inevitable.
I decide on the subtle route. I scoot leisurely across the mattress, taking my time. Unhurried. Calm. Understanding that you don’t rush perfection. And this woman? She’s the definition of perfection.
Lola turns on her side and faces me. I pull her to my chest and her hair tickles my neck. She sighs again and brings our joined hands to her mouth, pressing a kiss to the back of my palm.
“Okay?” I ask.
“Better than okay,” she answers.
“Tell me what’s going on in your head. You want to keep doing what we’re doing—which is what exactly? Humping each other in tents and running away when the alarm goes off?”
Lola blushes a furious shade of pink. She gives my shoulder a gentle shove and buries her face in my shirt. “I’m not great at talking about my feelings,” she says, voice muffled by my sleeve. “That’s your area of expertise.”
“I’m hardly an expert, and you’re doing fine. I’m just giving you a hard time.” I run my finger down her jaw and play with the ends of her hair. “Do you want me to keep touching you?”
I didn’t think it was possible for her skin to turn an even darker shade of crimson, but at the tail end of my question, it does. Like the sky at sunset, the color seeps into her skin and makes her glow in the darkened room. A beacon of light and beauty andhell.It hurts to look at her.
“I want… I want us to…” She huffs, frustrated, and takes a second to regroup. To sort through her thoughts until she settles on the one she likes best. “I like when you touch me. I know that’s not something friends do, so I think I want to try being… not friends with you.”
I frown. Regret grabs at me, shaking me and scratching at my throat. My muscles go stiff. “You want us to stop being friends?” I ask slowly.
“No.No. I want us to still be friends. We’re always going to be friends. I want us to be more affectionate with each other,” she says through a rush of words, her face still hidden. “I want to hold your hand and I’d like to kiss you too.”
