Where the Road Takes Me

by Jay McLean

  When life gives you melons, you might be dyslexic.

  “It’s a giant peach,” he said.

  I leaned back against the car and looked at the roadside water-tower attraction. “I know, how cool is it?”

  “I don’t think cool is the right word.” He tilted his head to the side. “I don’t know that there is a word to describe it.”

  “I think it’s cool.”

  “I think it’s odd that I can’t stop staring at it.”

  I laughed. “I think you secretly think it’s cool.”

  “I think the word cool is outdated.”

  I turned my back on the giant peach and stood in front of him. “I think you’re outdated.”

  He peered down at me from under the brim of his Duke cap. “I’ll outdate you.” He pulled my shirt until I was flush against him. Then he lowered his head toward mine.

  My eyes shut.

  I waited for his lips to touch mine.

  But they never did.

  I opened my eyes.

  He was gazing over my head. “I can’t stop staring at the giant peach.”

  When we had left the hotel that morning, he’d asked if he could negotiate some terms with me. I’d told him that it was our trip, not just mine, and negotiations weren’t needed. He had three requests: (1) an endless supply of lollipops, (2) we drive for only two hours at a time before stopping, and (3) we drive no more than six hours a day.

  We found somewhere to stay a few hours away. I didn’t exactly know where we were, and it didn’t really matter. Where he was—that was where I wanted to be.

  The first thing he did when we walked into the room was look for the balcony doors. He slid them open and stepped outside. I made us coffee and followed after him. His legs were already kicked out, and he was waiting for me take my spot on his lap. He smiled sadly when I did.

  “Are you okay, Blake?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “You always get sad at the end of the day.”

  “I’m that obvious, huh?”

  I turned to face him. “Is something wrong? Are you homesick?”

  He laughed. “No. I’m not homesick. It’s just another day over. That’s all. I hate it—counting them down and knowing our days are limited.”

  “I know.” I forced a smile. “So what do we do?”

  “Nothing,” he sighed. “I’m just being grumpy.” He positioned me so I sat sideways on him. “And this is gonna sound really stupid, but I miss you.”

  I chuckled. “You miss me? How? I’m with you all the time.”

  “I know! I told you it would sound dumb, but I do miss you. We’re always in the car or eating somewhere. And I feel like I’m sharing you with The Road, and I just want you all to myself, and it makes me feel selfish because this was your thing.” His words were rushed. “But I miss you. I just want to talk to you, and only you, like we did all the times at your mom’s lake. Or on your swing seat.” He sucked in a breath. “I’m sorry. It’s stupid that I feel like this.”

  “It’s not stupid.” And it wasn’t. I felt the same way, but I didn’t know how to voice it. Blake—he always had the words. “We can stay here for a few days. It’s nice and quiet. We don’t have to do anything. Just lock ourselves away from the rest of the world.”

  His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Maybe that wasn’t what he’d meant.

  “I mean—if you want to,” I added. “I’d like that, just you and me. But it’s cool if you—”

  “That sounds perfect, Chloe.” He smiled. “More than perfect.”

  The entire night he’d been sitting there shirtless, watching whatever the hell movie had been playing. I’d tried not to look at him. To ogle him. To devour him.

  I kept tossing and turning, trying to get comfortable with the throbbing ache between my legs. I wanted him. And I knew he wanted me. The endless kissing, touching, feeling—it wasn’t enough anymore. Not for me.

  He pulled back from our kiss, his lips red and raw. “We need to slow down, I don’t want to sleep with you yet. But if we keep going, I’m going to lose control. You need to stop me before it gets too far.” His eyes were dark. Darker than I’d ever seen them. “Please, Chloe.”

  It took a moment before I worked out what he was asking. I nodded once and wrapped my legs tighter around his waist.

  “Okay.”

  And if he did lose control—it didn’t show. Every move, every touch, every taste felt calculated. His hands moved up my sides, taking my shirt with it. We broke away from the kiss only long enough for him to lift the top over my head. But when we continued, something in him had switched. No longer slow and gentle, his kisses became desperate. Passionate. Perfect. He was perfect.

  His hand slid up my back and settled on my bra, where it stilled—asking for approval, I guessed. I moaned into his mouth and pulled myself closer with my hands on his shoulders. Effortlessly, he unclasped the bra, slowly sliding it down my arms. I pulled back to let it fall, but his grip on my waist kept me there.

  He bit his lip, his eyes moving from one breast to another. “Beautiful,” he whispered before kissing me again.

  It took only seconds before we were there once more, teetering on the edge of whatever control we had left. His thumb brushed against my nipple; the other one laced and fisted in my hair. He yanked hard but not hard enough that it hurt.

  My head tilted back so his mouth could move to my neck. I was grinding my hips, rubbing my heat where I wanted him the most. His hips rose, meeting me there. I was so wet, so close.

  His mouth moved lower and lower, onto my collarbone, where his lips paused to suck. Hard. And I loved it. And then he moved. Lower again. I pushed my chest out. Ready. Waiting. I needed him where he wanted to be. The warmth of his mouth on my nipple set me off. I ground harder into him. Faster. We groaned simultaneously. And I didn’t even know when or how they got there, but his fingers brushed against my sex, over my panties, rubbing lightly.

  “Shit,” I repeated the word over and over between pants.

  Then he pushed the material aside and pushed two fingers inside me. His mouth moved from one breast to the other, and whatever control I had was gone. I was done. I thrust into his hand as his fingers worked me over the edge. I didn’t even notice when he pulled back. Not until every last shudder went through me, and I finally managed to open my eyes.

  He was watching me, eyes hooded, mouth partially open. I moved in to kiss him. Just once, before I made my way down his body. His neck first, sucking the way he’d done to me. Marking him. Making him mine. He slid his fingers out of me. I kissed lower, over his chest, as I slid down his body. My tongue slid to his stomach—his perfect stomach—paying special attention to the dips of his muscles. Then my hands moved and curled around the band of his boxers.

  “Chloe.” He covered my hands with his. “You don’t have to—”

  I didn’t listen. He didn’t continue protesting. Once my mouth was around him, he was silent. Apart from the moans toward the end and a single word—my name.

  We spent three more days in the hotel room, and we did exactly what we both wanted. We didn’t have sex, but we shared, we talked, we laughed. And at some point, we fell even more in love. We didn’t voice it. We didn’t have to. We both knew. But someday, real soon, I’d tell him.

  And for the first time in my life, I made a plan for the future.

  Blake Hunter—he was my future.

  Think a little less, live a little more.

  “Ha!” he said. “I like that one.”

  “Me, too.” I smiled.

  He picked up his blank magnet and scribbled on it. Today will live forever in the memory of tomorrow.

  “I love that. Where’s it from?” I looked up at him.

  He shrugged and kissed my forehead.

  “One of my mom’s books.”

 
“You read her books?” I asked.

  “Every single one.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Chloe

  He leaned against the car and pulled me into him, my back to his chest. “What’s it supposed to be?”

  “An egg, I think.”

  “What’s its purpose?”

  “A water tower? I’m not sure.”

  “Why do you always make me stop at these random things?” He pulled the lollipop out of his mouth and pointed it to the egg-shaped tower. “Do you think they built it with this in mind? That people would pull over and want to spend longer looking at it?”

  I laughed. “You can’t stop looking at it, can you?”

  “No,” he said, astonishment clear in his voice. “And I have no idea why.”

  I stared at my breasts in the bathroom mirror.

  They looked the same.

  Only they weren’t.

  I had imagined this moment so many times. I even thought that I’d prepared myself for it. But things had changed so much over the past few weeks that I had almost let myself believe that it would never happen.

  But now, now it was happening.

  I wiped the tears off my cheeks and attempted to inhale a few calming breaths. Then I shut my eyes and waited as every single possible emotion passed through me. And then I settled on one. I didn’t want to feel anymore. “I think we should go out tonight,” I shouted to Blake on the other side of the door.

  “Yeah? You wanna go to dinner or something?”

  “No. I’m thinking I might want to lose myself for a little bit.”

  His footsteps got louder as he walked to the bathroom door. The handle moved but it didn’t push open. I’d made sure to lock it. “Open the door, Chloe.”

  I rushed to get dressed and opened the door. His eyebrows bunched as he looked down at me. “You want to go out and have a few beers?”

  “Yeah.” I feigned casualness in my tone. “Just for something different, you know?”

  “Okay,” he agreed. “We might get carded, so dress whore-ish.”

  I would have been offended by his suggestion if not for the fact that I’d already planned to.

  Blake

  We hadn’t been carded; they’d let us right in. Luckily, the bar was only a block away from the hotel, so we didn’t have to worry about getting back. We hadn’t had to worry much about anything since we’d hit the road.

  But at that moment—I was worried. After her fifth shot of tequila, I asked if she was okay.

  “Quit looking at me like that. I’m fine.”

  I hadn’t realized I was looking at her like anything.

  She brushed past me and headed toward the pool tables. “I’m taking a piss,” I told her. I went to kiss her quickly, but she pulled back and walked away. I tried to ignore it—the hurt from her actions and the concern over the way she’d been acting all night.

  When I walked out of the restroom, she was leaning against one of the pool tables, her shorter-than-short skirt barely covering her ass. She had a cue in one hand and a beer in the other, but that wasn’t what set off the rage in my head. It was the guy standing in front of her. Too close in front of her. I made my way over and stood next to her, hoping my stance and physical appearance would make him fuck off. His eyes moved from Chloe’s breasts to me, and a disgusted snarl appeared on his face. “This your boyfriend?” he asked her but kept his eyes on me.

  I sized him up and smirked. I could take him. Easy.

  I leaned back and waited for her words of rejection so this asshole would get out of her face, but her dismissal never came.

  “He’s whatever,” she said.

  My heart stopped. Or picked up pace. I couldn’t tell.

  When I turned to her, she was looking down at the floor, her head bent and eyelids heavy from the alcohol.

  “Chloe!” I snapped. “What the hell’s gotten into you?”

  “Fuck off, Hunter. You met me a few months ago, and you think you know me? Seriously, fuck off. You don’t know shit. I’m not some fucking damsel that needs saving. You think you can stick around and that’ll save me, you’re wrong.”

  I got that she was drunk. Beyond drunk. But even when she had been loaded at Will’s party, she hadn’t talked to me like this. A ball formed in the pit of my stomach, and I stood straighter, staring at her, trying to work out what the fuck I should do.

  Then the asshole stepped forward. “You wanna get out of here?” he asked her.

  And I lost it.

  I’d never been this pissed before.

  Without even thinking, I grabbed her arm—rougher than I should have—and dragged her out of the bar.

  I didn’t want to say something I’d regret, so I tried to compose myself before asking, “What’s wrong, Chloe?”

  “Nothing!” she yelled. “Nothing is fucking wrong with me. And you—you have no right to control me like that. From where I stand, you and me—we’re nothing. I haven’t promised anything and neither have you.” She started walking hastily away from me.

  I grabbed her arm and made her turn to me. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  “You!” She pushed against my chest. “August 19. That’s all you’ve promised me. Maybe that’s not enough anymore!”

  My heart dropped. It felt as if all the air had been knocked out of me. “What do you want me to say, Chloe? What the hell do you want me to do? Tell me, and I’ll do it!”

  Her shoulders sagged, and a sob took over. “Nothing, okay? I want you to do nothing.”

  She started walking back to the hotel. I followed, a few feet behind her, completely lost in my own thoughts.

  What the fuck just happened?

  Once we got to the hotel, I changed into my running gear, craving the numbness I knew the run would provide. “I’ll be back soon.”

  She got into bed without bothering to change and nodded, refusing to look at me.

  Chloe

  “Chloe.” I could hear his voice, but he sounded far away. Then something nudged my leg. “Chloe,” he said again.

  I waited for the room to stop spinning before opening my eyes.

  Blake was hovering above me, chewing his thumb. “Hey.”

  “Hey,” I replied, sitting up to try to clear my head.

  He sat on the edge of the bed, his head down. Then his gaze lifted and locked with mine. “I’m gonna take off. I just wanted you to know . . . so you don’t wake up in the morning and wonder what happened.”

  He was leaving?

  I sat up straighter and tried to stop myself from throwing up. Not because of the alcohol but because of what was happening. And even though I’d expected it to happen, even needed it to happen, I’d never wanted it to happen. Not for a second. “Okay.”

  All it took was that single word—that one response of approval—and I could see his heart shatter right in from of me. He sniffed and looked away. I followed his gaze, and my heart tightened like a vise. His bags were already packed. “Now?” I squeaked.

  He stood up slowly. “I got another room for the night. I’m leaving in the morning. You can have the car until you get something else, then just contact my mom. She’ll take care of it.”

  The ache in my chest became so painful I wanted to reach in and rip my heart out, throw it against the wall, and watch it as it slowly stopped beating and died. Maybe that was what was happening to me; maybe I was slowly dying.

  I nodded.

  He reached for his bag, picked it up, and took one step toward the door.

  And that was when it happened.

  My heart kicked back in, and I panicked. I lost all restraint from earlier. I jumped to my feet on the bed and wrapped my arms around his neck. “Blake, please,” I cried.

  He dropped his bag and turned to me, but his hands didn’t touch me. “What, C
hloe? What do you want?”

  “Don’t,” I begged.

  He shook his head. “Don’t what? I don’t know what the hell you want.”

  All I could do was cry. The words were there. Don’t leave me. But I just couldn’t bring myself to say them out loud—to break the promise I’d made myself to never let anyone in.

  He removed my arms from around him and took a step back, the sadness and regret clear on his face. “You can’t even say it, can you? You don’t even know what you want.” He took another step closer to the door.

  The thought of him leaving, walking away, and never seeing him again sent my mind into overdrive. “I do!” I reached for him again. “I want you, Blake.” I jumped off the bed and wrapped my legs around him. And then I kissed him. With everything I had. But he didn’t kiss me back. Instead, he tried to pull me off him. “Chloe. Stop.”

  I held on to him more tightly. “Please.”

  I physically felt it. The moment when his body won out, and he gave in to me. His hands moved down my back, onto my ass, gripping it hard, and hauling me closer to him. Then he finally started kissing back. But it wasn’t Blake, not the usual him. Not the one that liked things slow, liked to savor me so he could get to know me. It was another part of him kissing me. It was pure need. Pure lust. He dropped me on the bed and looked down at me. I never released my hold.

  He shook his head. “Chloe.”

  I didn’t know if it was a question or a warning, but either way, it didn’t matter. Not when I started kissing him again. Not when I pushed his sweats past his hips, just enough to free his erection. Not when he cursed under his breath and said my name again. Not even when I held it in my hands and brought it to my entrance. I didn’t bother removing my panties, and neither did he. He just pushed the material aside and thrust his fingers into me.

  “Fuck, Chloe, I can’t do this,” he said as he dropped his head next to mine.

  I gripped his hair tightly and kissed his neck. “Please, Blake. I need you.”