by Amy Sparling
“Yeah, you’re right,” Park says, checking the time.
I’ve already showered and changed into pajamas, so I slip into Park’s bed, letting the cool cotton sheets chill my bare legs. Even though it’s his bed, we already have our sides. He sleeps on the right side, and I sleep on the left. He uses the sheets I picked out and the memory foam pillows I asked him to buy for us. Everything about this place has my personal touch on it, and yet I still don’t live here.
Ugh, Becca. Stop whining. I tell myself to be patient. That we’ll get there. I’ll have everything I want in due time.
At least I hope so.
Park brushes his teeth and then pulls off his shirt. With an evil grin, he tosses it at me. I catch it, loving how his shirt smells so deliciously like him. I toss it to the floor. If I had to go home tonight, I’d want to keep it and snuggle with it in my own bed so I’d have his smell next to me. But I’m here all night, and I have something even better—Park himself.
He slides under the blankets and leans over to kiss me goodnight. I make the mistake of wrapping my hands around his neck and pulling him close to me, deepening the kiss.
“Mmm,” he says, his lips against mine. He grabs my leg and pulls me closer to him. Chills prickle over my skin as his calloused palm slides down my thigh. “I’m not tired anymore,” he whispers.
Heat rushes through me, the nearness of the guy I love making it impossible to resist him. I slide my nails gently down his back. “We’re supposed to be sleeping,” I whisper between his kisses.
He pulls himself on top of me, his body hard and warm against mine. His grin makes me weak, and I gasp in delight as his lips caress my neck.
“Sleep is over rated,” he whispers against my ear.
I close my eyes and pull him closer, as the need to have all of him gets overwhelming. He’s absolutely right, I think as I let him slowly undress me.
Sleep is totally over rated.
Chapter 4
My alarm goes off so annoyingly early in the morning. I lay in bed and listen to the sound for a few seconds, wishing I could turn it off with my mind. But eventually, I have to sit up and grab my phone off the night stand to silence it.
“Ugh, I hate mornings,” I say to Park.
But when I look across the bed, his side is empty. “Park?” I say, glancing toward the bathroom. He’s also not in there.
Light filters in from the bedroom door and I follow it out to the kitchen, where my boyfriend is fully dressed, and currently operating the blender.
“Good morning, beautiful,” he says, sounding entirely too chipper for five a.m..
“Blah,” I say back as I slump into a nearby barstool and rest my cheek on my hand. “I hate waking up early.”
“This will help,” he says. He pours the contents of the blender into two cups and hands me one. “Strawberry banana smoothie with peanut butter and protein powder.”
“Yum,” I say, taking a sip.
By the time my smoothie is finished, I’m still not any more awake than I was before, but Park seems really excited about the trip, so I pretend like I’m not about to fall asleep standing up.
“Hopefully the flight isn’t delayed,” he says, checking his watch. “It’s so annoying how we have to arrive two hours early, then sit around bored and hope the plane isn’t an hour late. We need our own private plane.”
I laugh. “Do you have a spare hundred million dollars lying around?”
He shrugs and gives me this silly smile. “Not that I can remember. What about you?”
I grin. “Nope.”
Park wraps his arms around me and pulls me off my feet. “I love you.”
“I love you,” I say, emphasizing the last word.
“I’m really happy you’re coming with me.”
He still hasn’t put me back on the floor, so I hold onto his shoulders and kiss him. “I’m happy you’re taking me. It’s a big deal, meeting the parents.”
He sets me down, but still holds me against him. “Kind of, but not really. They’ll love you, so there’s no pressure here.”
“Let’s hope so,” I say.
Park bends down and kisses my forehead. “I know so.”
We load up our suitcases and then drive to the airport, which is an hour away. Park jams out to the radio, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. I focus on not falling asleep. I don’t know how DJs and news anchors do it. Mornings are absolutely the worst.
I think I start to drift off, because the next thing I know, Park is cursing under his breath. My eyes flutter open, and I feel the truck slow down drastically. I look up. We’re near the airport, on that long winding road that leads up to the terminals, but we’re stuck in a massive traffic jam. Up ahead, dozens of police cars are parked all over the road, their red and blue lights blinking. I think I even see some fire trucks and ambulances.
“What the hell?” I say, yawning.
“It looks crazy,” Park says. “This isn’t good. Hopefully we get through here quick enough to get to our plane on time.”
We sit in the stopped traffic for half an hour. Ahead of us, some people get out of their cars and walk around, trying to figure out what’s taking so long. But one thing is for sure – we’re not moving any time soon. Even if we wanted to turn around now, we couldn’t. This is a one lane road with a grassy median between it and the next road over. There’s no getting out.
I unbuckle my seatbelt and slide across the front seat until I’m snuggled up next to Park. I rest my head on his shoulder and feel his arm go around me.
“This sucks,” Park mutters.
“It’ll be okay,” I say. “You have me.”
He chuckles and kisses the top of my head. “I can’t argue with that.”
Our contented waiting only lasts another twenty minutes. Up ahead, police officers are walking to every car and telling the driver something. Park rolls down his window when the officer gets to us.
“I’m afraid the whole airport is shut down,” he says. “They had a major electrical fire. All flights are cancelled.”
“Holy shit,” Park says. “How do we get out of here?”
The officer points toward the line of police cars way at the front of the traffic jam. “They’re opening up a crossover lane up ahead. You’ll all get to turn around. Sorry for the hassle. Hope you guys have a nice Christmas.” He nods at Park and me and then moves on to the car behind us.
“The entire airport is shut down?” Park says, cranking the engine on his truck again. “I hope no one’s hurt.”
I feel a warmth spread over my chest. “I love you.”
Park grins at me. “Where’d that come from?”
I shrug. “Most people would be pissed that their flight is cancelled, and yet your first thought is that you hope no one is hurt.”
He reaches over and squeezes my hand. “I’m more worried about innocent people than us. The Austin airport is two hours away. We can drive there and take the next flight out to California. We’ll be fine.”
“Sounds good,” I say as I slide back over into my passenger seat and buckle my seat belt. “If it’s okay with you, I might sleep on the way.”
Park winks at me. “I’ll wake you up when we’re there.”
THE AUSTIN AIRPORT does not solve our problem. After waiting in line after line and attempting to purchase tickets on our phones only to realize that the airline’s website is so popular it’s not running correctly, we finally reach the front of the line. The woman behind the ticket booth looks worn out, like she’s been working the last twenty four hours with no breaks or food. She probably looks that way from having to give out bad news all day. She informs us that there are no seats available on any California flights at all until after Christmas. Park even tries the luxury first class seats, but they’re all gone, too.
Once we realize it’s hopeless, Park thanks the woman for her help, takes my hand and leads me over to a bench in the middle of the busy airport.
“I thought Christmas Eve
was the busiest flight day of the year,” I say with a groan. “Today is still two days before that!”
“Tell me about it,” Park says. “I’m betting all the people from our airport took up the rest of the flights from this one.” He’s playing on his phone, and I sit back and watch the people while Park does whatever he’s doing.
After a few minutes, he puts the phone down. “Becca, I have an idea.”
“What’s that?” I say. Secretly, I’m hoping he’ll say we should go home and have a private Christmas all to ourselves with no awkward meeting the parent trips that I have to endure.
He sighs. “Sacramento is a twenty five hour drive away. It’s two days max. We could leave now and arrive on Sunday afternoon. It’ll be Christmas Eve. It can work.”
My eyes go wide.
He grabs my knee and squeezes it. “What do you think?”’
“I think you’re crazy,” I say.
He smiles. “What else do you think? Want to go on an adventure with me?”
“An adventure, hmm?” I say with a shrug. “I guess we’re driving to Sacramento.”
Chapter 5
I used to think I could do anything if I only had Park by my side. Now, I realize I was wrong. Just because I can do stuff with him by my side, doesn’t mean I’ll enjoy it. Sitting in this truck for hours on end is so incredibly boring. I don’t know how Park does it. I fell asleep for the first few hours, and when I woke up just now, I hoped the whole day had gone by.
I was wrong.
It’s only just now noon.
We’re only three hours into our twenty five hour road trip, and I’m so freaking bored. Park seems totally fine, and I’m trying to be a team sport here, but it’s so. Freaking. Boring.
With my head leaned back against the headrest, I roll my head to the left to look at him. “Are you as bored as I am?” I ask.
He chuckles. “Probably not. I have to drive, so it keeps me busy. Being the passenger is always the worst part of a road trip.”
“How many road trips have you been on?”
He shrugs. “I can’t count them all. Growing up on a dirt bike means practically living on the road. I used to do my school work in the backseat of my dad’s truck while he drove us to the next weekend race in Nevada.”
“I haven’t taken many road trips,” I admit. “When my family goes on vacation, we usually fly there. We drove to see some places in Texas, but it was never for very far, and I usually slept.”
“Go ahead and get some more sleep if you can,” Park says. His hand finds mine and squeezes it. “You’re pretty cute when you sleep.”
My cheeks start to burn. What if I drool or snore or something in my sleep? Ugh.
“No thanks. I’m awake now,” I say. I make a mental note to never fall asleep in front of Park again unless he’s also going to sleep.
Park and I fall into a comfortable silence. Sometimes I watch him while he’s driving. I love the taut muscles in his forearm as he holds onto the steering wheel, the carefree look on his face while we cruise west down a mostly empty interstate. I try not to check the time because every time I do, it’s a huge disappointment. It’s never as late as I hope it is. Park’s plan is for us to drive until around 8:30 in the evening and then get a hotel, wake up early tomorrow and drive some another twelve hours, then get a hotel and then drive the remaining couple of hours to his parent’s house on Sunday morning. I try not to think about how much it’ll suck since we’re only a few hours into this journey and I’m already going crazy.
I slouch down in my seat and stretch my legs. Then I play with the radio until something good comes on.
After another hour of sitting in this truck, I’ve successfully played with every app on my phone until it bored me. I’ve counted the pieces of lint on the dashboard. I’ve read through the paperwork Park keeps in the glovebox and noted that he has four months left until his car inspection expires and will have to be renewed.
It’s still nowhere close to eight o’clock.
“You want to stop for lunch?” Park says.
“Yes, yes, yes, yes,” I say, leaning forward and stretching my hands. “Please, yes.”
He laughs. “I take it you’re not a road trip person.”
I shake my head. “No, but I will be for you.”
“You really are the best,” he says. “I’m sorry our trip has started out bad. Hopefully it gets better.”
I give him an encouraging smile, but I don’t say anything. The truth is that even though I’m not a fan of long rides in a truck, I’m even more nervous about our destination. The holidays are stressful enough around my own family members, but I’m about to add two more to the mix. I’ve never even seen a picture of Park’s parents. I really hope they like me. And that I like them.
We get a quick fast food dinner, fill up with gas, and then get back on the road. I talk Park into stopping at a Starbucks when we see one, and I order a tall mocha latte to keep me happy for a little while. It works, but it also pumps me with energy and there’s nowhere to expend it when you’re stuck in a vehicle for several more hours.
Finally, after checking the time about five million times, the sun sets and the sky darkens and Park decides that we should stop for the night. We pull off the interstate at a little town called Plainville, and I have to laugh at the sad name of their town. It’s small, with one main road that goes down the middle of the town. We check into the only hotel. Thanks to my coffee, I’m not the least bit tired, but I am so happy to be out of the truck.
“Do you have any plans tonight?” the man behind the counter asks us after Park buys us a night in the hotel. “If not, you should check out the Christmas fair.”
“Where’s that?” Park asks.
The man points toward the road outside. “Just up ahead a block or two. Can’t miss it. Plainville is known for our Christmas fair, so you should really check it out. It’s free, too.”
“Sounds good,” Park says. “Thank you.”
After we put our stuff in our hotel room, Park and I walk hand in hand down Main Street. I can hear Christmas tunes up ahead, and smell cotton candy and funnel cakes. The closer we get, the more I’m looking forward to this random Christmas fair. When we reach a stop sign, we see exactly what the man at the hotel said we wouldn’t miss.
An entire park has been transformed. There are Christmas lights everywhere. Arches of it covering sidewalks so you can walk under them and feel the glow of the holiday season. Little lighted reindeer and Santa with his sleigh, and all kinds of decorations fill every space of the park. There are game booths and food booths and the high school choir singing Christmas carols.
“This place is magical,” I say, gazing up at Park from under a canopy of blue lights.
“I’m glad we randomly decided to stop here,” Park says, grinning.
“Me too.”
Little kids run past us, giggling as they play a game of tag. It makes me smile to see an entire town here, soaking up all the holiday spirit. As we walk along the pathway through the park, a woman dressed as Mrs. Claus hands us each a cup of hot chocolate. “You’re just in time for the hayride,” she says joyfully, the blush on her cheeks making her look exactly like how’d you picture the real Mrs. Claus.
Park and I follow her gaze to where a big farm tractor has just pulled up, carrying a long trailer behind it. It’s covered with hay bales and happy families and smiling kids jump off it, and rush over to get some hot chocolate.
“What do you say?” Park asks me. “Does this cross country adventure need a hay ride?”
“Yes,” I say, feeling the joy of the holiday season for the first time since we left home this morning. “I think we definitely need a hay ride.”
Chapter 6
I don’t want to say goodbye to Plainville, but Park is awake bright and early on Saturday morning. I know this trip is important to him, but I’m getting more nervous by the second. It’s one thing to meet your boyfriend’s parents over dinner or something. But we’re g
oing to be staying at their house. Will they make us have separate rooms? Will they let us sleep in the same room? Both options sound awkward. I tell myself to suck it up and deal because this is important and if I want a future with Park then I’ll need to know his family.
I take a quick shower after my alarm goes off. When I get out, Park has just returned to the hotel room, carrying two coffees.
“Breakfast is served,” he says, pulling a folded napkin out of the pouch on his hoody. “Danish, donuts, and coffee.”
“We have a coffee maker in here, you know,” I say, pointing to the complementary coffee maker and coffee right here in the hotel room.
He scoffs. “Do you know what happens to those gross things?”
“No?”
“I read an article once that said flight attendants wash their underwear in hotel coffee makers.”
“Coffee pots?” I say with a laugh. “How is that possible?”
Put detergent where the coffee goes, and it pours hot soapy water into the glass part to wash your dirty underwear,” he says, curling his lip.
“Okay, I will never look at hotel coffee makers the same way again,” I say, laughing. “Actually, I’ll never look at any coffee the same way again.”
When we get back on the road, heading toward Arizona, I try to start out the day in a good mood. Yeah, driving for twelve hours straight will suck, but if I try to be happy maybe it’ll go by quicker. I tell Park to roll down the windows and turn up the music and we jam out while we’re cruising.
When it gets a little cold, he turns on the floor heater and the blast of warm air mixes perfectly with the chill on my face. Arizona is beautiful and barren, and I’m pretty sure I’m in love with it.
We stop for lunch around noon, and since Park thinks we’re making great time, we go inside the little diner instead of getting our food to go. When we get back to the truck, I’m texting with Bayleigh and I don’t realize something is wrong at first.
Park curses under his breath.