Page 28 of Road Trip to Forever
“We’re also not speaking on his behalf,” Rebecca says. “He hasn’t told us anything, but we do know that you’re the most important person in the world to him. He’d do anything for you. Maybe that means he cares about you in a romantic, non-platonic way. Maybe it doesn’t mean anything at all. But it’s not the same way we treat each other. It’s different. And now that you know, I bet you’re going to pick up on signs from him you didn’t previously see.”
“Shit,” I curse. “Shit. I don’t know what’s going on in my head. I’m curious about him. About the possibility of… of trying something with him. How can I not be? You have someone in your life for years, and you’ve never wanted to kiss them, or be physical with them, and now all of a sudden you do? It would be weird if Iwasn’tcurious, I think.” I sit back down and bury my head in my hands, as if my palms will offer me guidance to these new revelations.
“This trip might be exactly what you need. An opportunity to figure out how you feel about him, and to figure out how he feels about you. You’ll see a sign, and there’s going to be a moment when you’ll justknow. It’ll all make sense eventually. It’ll sort itself out,” Emma says, peeling my hands away from my face. “Until then, do what you want. Do what feelsright. You don’t need to put a label on it, but if you want to kiss him, Lola, then kiss him.”
I nod. “Okay. Yeah.”
Easier said than done.
My phone pings and I pick it up, grateful for the distraction.
A stupid photo for a stupid photo.
Should I start a food fight?
It’s like Patrick knew I was thinking about him, knew I needed to be reassured that we’re stillgood. That we’re okay. Almost kiss or no almost kiss, maybe feelings or no romantic feelings at all, nothing’s changed. We’re still Patrick and Lola, friends first, forever and ever.
Then a picture comes through.
Attached is an image of him standing with the lunch ladies at his school. Harriet, Dolores, Margaret, then Patrick, the tallest of the bunch. He’s laughing, with a hairnet on his head and an apron looped around his neck. It’s bright pink, with dozens of little hearts dotting the front.
He’s holding a spoonful of Sloppy Joe’s in his left hand, and there’s dried mustard on his right cheek. His eyes are wrinkled in the corners. Those little lines keep getting more and more prominent with every passing year. It’s funny to think of him as older now, and how I’ve known him and loved him platonically for over three-quarters of my life.
Not stupid!!!! It made me smile.
Lunchlady Land is one of my favorite songs.
Are there navy beans?
Obviously.
I’m glad it made you smile. My job here is done.
Something twists behind my ribs as I read his words, pulling tight and becoming uncomfortable. It’s a sensation I’ve never felt before, and that panic from the other night is back, a gentle rise to the surface.
Strictly platonic,I think with one side of my brain, as I send back a dozen hamburger emojis.
You idiot,I argue with the other side.
The one hundred percent certainty ofnever crossing any lineswith my best friendjust dropped to ninety-nine percent, because all I can imagine when I close my eyes is his hand running up my leg and how perfectly the curves of his body would fit against mine.
EIGHT
Tuesday
Don’t forget to take your ADHD meds. No, Debra, I haven’t printed the files yet.
Whoops. Sorry. Talk to text. Don’t forget your medicine.
Ah, thank you! Just popped a pill. Focus time, here I come.
Why haven’t you printed the files?
Because, Lola, I only have two hands, believe it or not.
Bummer. Imagine what you could do with three.
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