Page 128 of A Dead Girl's Guide to Living
Instead, I navigated to the latest video I’d posted about Oklahoma City, my voiceover filling the car as mashed-up clips of where we’d gone and what we’d done played across the screen. Dove was laughing hysterically at something I couldn’t even remember now—likely something Liv had done.
I scrolled through the comments.
You could totally travel vlog. I could listen to your voice and watch your videos all day.
I want to do Route 66 now!!!!
I am living for these updates. Literally. Waiting on a liver as I type. This is keeping me going—go Ellis!
Something fluttered in my stomach, and I clutched my phone. Traveling. Seeing the world. People actually wanted to see this stuff? To watch me journey? I’d thought maybe I’d lose followers by deviating away from the medical stuff, but my follower count had grown since the trip started, and I sucked my lower lip into my mouth.
I liked traveling—not at the beginning, that was for sure—but the farther I got from home, and the more places I saw, the more I realized I was getting a taste for it.
A taste for doing new things. A taste for self-discovery, for learning what I truly liked and disliked.
A taste for climbing out of the comfort zone I’d so carefully cocooned myself into.
I could do things, I thought, as if the realization were sudden and had never occurred to me before. It felt like possibility was suddenly stretching out in front of me, that there were options and lives I could choose from, thoughts I was finally allowing myself to think.
I glanced up and watched as Dove walked back toward the car, Liv beside her, talking animatedly. She gestured as if she were explaining something important or dramatic, and given that it was Liv, it was likely both.
I focused on the way Dove walked, the air of casual confidence that floated around her as she nodded with a frown, as if deep in thought. Her bare arms were on display thanks to the ripped tank top she wore, the morning sun bouncing off her skin and creating a radiant glow around her.
Butterflies stirred in my stomach, and I sucked in a breath at myself.
The driver’s door creaked open, and Dove slipped into the car with a look on her face—the kind that made her mouth curl at one side, mischief dancing in her eyes as I met them.
She wore the same expression in Oklahoma when she told me we were going out.
She hit the playlist, and Dehd filled the car once more as she turned the key and started the engine.
“So,” she said, drawing the word out with an attempt at casualness that made me frown, “are the time slots for Albuquerque locked in, or is there room for movement on how we, uh, do things?”
I blinked at her, then glanced at Liv through the rearview mirror. She was paying very close attention to her nail beds.
“I haven’t booked the tramway yet,” I told her as she pulled back onto the road. “Because that’s really the only thing that needs a booking. We can work around that, I guess. Also, we have to check in at the motel, which opens at one. I don’t know about you, but I really need a shower.”
Dove grinned at me before glancing back at the road, then took a breath. “Okay, well, I was just thinking that, um, maybe we could do the tramway at sunset. Liv says there’s a restaurant at the top… we could have dinner and then come back down.” She cleared her throat and frowned at the road ahead. “Like, maybe adateor something.”
I blinked once, my eyes snapping back to the rearview, where Liv sat with a satisfied smirk stretched across her face, still staring intently at her nails.
My stomach danced.
“A date?” I asked. No composure in my tone, and my words came out a little too pitched.
“Yes, Ellis,” Dove said with a grin. “A date. You know, two people, mutual attraction, food, romantic tension. Ring any bells?”
Dates were awkward. Ihateddates. My mind was immediately ripped back to the coffee date with Katie and how horrible that whole event had been. Dates were pressure.
Date.
The word rattled around in my brain like rocks in a jar.
Granted, Dove was not Katie. I knew Dove. Katie had been a stranger, and Dove certainly knew a lot more about me than Katie ever had. I’d already eaten with Dove a dozen times—hell, I’d slept beside her multiple times. Jesus, we had already kissed.
This should feel easier.
But it didn’t.
