Page 97 of Road Trip to Forever
Patrick laughs and nods. “You’re trouble. Go. I’ll come find you in the bedroom soon.”
“Promise?”
He takes my hand, kissing my knuckles and placing it over his heart. “Promise.”
Walking away is difficult, almost impossible, but I know there’s a promise of better things soon. New beginnings and so much more to learn. It’s a temporary parting, a pause, a couple of minutes of separation before I see him again.
The shower is the fastest of my life. I wash my hair and scrub my body clean, rub lotion on my face and arms. I wrap a towel around my body and slip into the empty bedroom, trying to decide what to wear.
I overanalyze everything in my suitcase, settling on an oversized T-shirt—one of Patrick’s I stole years ago that’s faded and soft—and pajama shorts. I take a seat on the edge of the mattress before standing, tidying the sheets and pillows.
Counterproductive, probably, but I can’t sit still, nervous and eager and excited about what’s coming next.
It feels like forever passes before the door finally opens and Patrick is there in clean shorts and a white shirt, with damp hair and red skin.
God, he’s so handsome. A boy I’ve watched turn into aman, his body changing into one that’s perfectly crafted and beautifully sculpted. Broad shoulders. Muscular. Masculine, without being overly fit or bulky. The kindest heart and the warmest smile.
And now he’smine.
“Hey,” I say.
“Hey.” He leans against the wall and crosses his arms over his chest. “Can I join you?”
I sit on the bed and swing my legs on top of the comforter, patting the pillows next to me. “Please.”
He moves across the room and sits on the mattress. He looks down at me and brushes a piece of hair out of my face, his touch lingering on my cheek. “Pretty,” he whispers. “So pretty.”
I swallow and grab the collar of his shirt, yanking him toward me. “You’re pretty too. I like looking at you.”
“Lo.” He trails his fingers down my neck. “I know we kissed, but that doesn’t mean we have to do anything else.” His eyes bounce to my throat and across my chest. “We can turn out the lights and go to sleep.”
“We could,” I agree. I push up on my knees so we’re near the same height. I lean forward and brush my mouth over his. “We could also leave the lights on.”
“Okay.” He rests his hands on my thighs, fingers curling around my skin. “Whatever you want.”
“I want you, Patrick. But I have to tell you something first.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
PATRICK
My heart stops beating.
There’s an edge to Lola’s voice. A secret she’s afraid to share. One she’s probably had buried for years, finally being pulled out of its hiding place and brought to life.
“What is it?” I ask.
“It’s embarrassing.” She averts her gaze, staring at the wall past my shoulder instead of at me. “It might make you change your mind.”
“Change my mind?” I repeat. “What do you mean?”
“I overthink in the bedroom. A lot. It could be my medicine messing with my head, or maybe it’s just me. No one has ever made me—I can’t—”
“Lola.” I take her chin in my hands, utterly confused. She’s not making any sense, and I desperately want to understand her. “Will you look at me, please?” Her lips tremble and her blue eyes meet mine. “Hey.”
“Hi.” She sniffs and wipes her nose. “I’m sorry.”
“I want you to know something right off the bat, honey. With us, there are zero expectations. You don’t owe me an explanation of anything happening in your life. If you want to talk to me about something that’s important to you, I hope you know I’ll gladly listen. But if you want to keep things to yourself, that’s also okay.”
