Open Lanes

by Mary Morano

  After getting comfortable in the car, he starts messing with his phone and then enters an address into the GPS before turning to me with a huge smile on his face.

  “Bray and Nic’s Awesome Road Trip commences now. Get ready to have some fun! You’re playing DJ, use my phone or hook yours up but get us some road trip tunes.” With that he hands his phone over, before pulling out of our parking spot and following the signs back to the highway. With no choice but to make the best of it, I start looking through his phone for a music app. I find an early 2000s throwback station on Spotify that seems promising and hit play, allowing the sounds of Shakira singing about her hips to fill the car.

  “You know, I can drive too.” I tell him.

  “I’m aware. We took driver’s ed together. I am also aware that you hate driving.”

  “Yeah, but if it gets us home quicker, I can drive too. Then we don’t have to make so many stops.” He frowns at me.

  “Nope, the stops are about letting loose and having a little fun. Besides, I like driving. It’s like skating on a fresh sheet of ice.”

  “Not sure what you're talking about, but I guess I don’t have much of a choice in the matter.”

  “Nic, just sit back and enjoy the ride.” He says before reaching out and raising the radio volume.

  With a huff I sit back and pull my phone out of my pocket, opening the text thread with my roommate, Jessica. I scan the last few messages and download some pictures that she had sent me from Friday night, before I send her a message.

  .

  Me: Hey, did you make it to Cali, ok?

  Jess: Unfortunately. Remind me why I wanted to join them on this trip? I am stuck in a house with my evil sister-in-law, and three overprotective brothers.

  Me: I remember you saying something about how much you love your family.

  Jess: I do. Especially when they are far away.

  Me: LOL you’re so crazy!

  Jess: Did you get wifi on the plane? How are you texting me? Shouldn’t you be somewhere over Alabama right now?

  Me: I’m pretty sure my plane would not fly over Alabama. But no, I didn’t. I missed my flight.

  The phone flashes with an incoming call from her that I silence and wait for it to clear the screen before I start typing again.

  Me: Can’t talk right now. Nosey ears around.

  Jess: WTF! Where are you? You were supposed to break up with the jerkwad this morning, so I really hope your not with him.

  Me: *You’re.

  Me: We did break up, and he left me on the side of the road. I had to get another ride.

  Jess: *Grammar police has struck again.

  Jess: HE DID WHAT?!?! I’M GOING TO NAIL HIM TO THE FLAGPOLE BY HIS NUTS!

  Jess: So, are you like hitchhiking? Which one are you giving up: Ass, Gas, or Grass? LOL

  Me: How are we even friends?

  Jess: You love me. Seriously, who did you get a ride with?

  Me: Brayden…

  I watched the screen as three dots appear, and then disappear, only to appear again. I can picture her jumping up and down screaming right now as she types and erases a million different comments. It takes her a few minutes to finally get her act together enough to text back, but when she does it’s with all the sass I expect.

  Jess: I’m sorry. Brayden? You couldn’t possibly mean the hottest and most popular guy on campus who you have gone out of your way to avoid for the last two years. Making us miss all the best parties because you have a personal vendetta against hockey players. Couldn’t be that Brayden, right?

  Me: Don’t start with me. I told you how he tortured me through school.

  Jess: Sounded more like a little boy with a crush.

  Me: This is exactly what’s wrong with our society, they lead women to believe that boys being mean to them is a sign they like them.

  Jess: Come off your high horse! I want details! How did this happen? What is he wearing? Are you going to choose the ass payment? I want to know if the hand size theory is true.

  Me: And on that note I’ll talk to you later.

  I turn off the screen of my phone and ignore the next five texts she sends, which I’m sure are equally inappropriate and begging for details for things I never plan to find out. Sliding my phone back into the front of my backpack, which sits on the floor at my feet, I try to focus on the road ahead of us. Yet, I keep finding my eyes roaming to the steering wheel where his right hand grips the wheel. They really are above average size, much like the rest of his body. That could only mean that… NO! Stop thinking that. Freaking Jess, she is such a bad influence.

  With a shake of my head to clear the thoughts I try to focus on the music playing instead. The station is playing all the songs that I enjoy dancing around to in my room while I get ready to go out for a night on the town. I need to remember to add this station to my own playlist.

  We continue along for a while with the music as a barrier to keep the silence from becoming oppressive, before the GPS tells us to get off at the next exit. I know we are somewhere in Vermont, but I can't imagine what could possibly be in the middle of a farm that we would be stopping to see.

  We slow down in front of a white gate that has a purple arch surrounding it, beyond that looks to be a graveyard, that has people walking around taking pictures in front of the tombstones. Weird. Who takes pictures in a graveyard?

  “Umm, Bray, what is going on?”

  “This is our first stop. The Ben and Jerry’s Flavor Graveyard. I was originally going to stop at the Tower of Cabinets, which is in Vermont too, but I know how much you love Ben and Jerry’s Ice Cream, so I thought you would enjoy this more.” His face radiates with pride, and I look from him to the graveyard and back again. Did he just say he wanted to see a tower of cabinets? What the hell is that even?

  “Oh. Uh. Thanks? That was umm… nice of you?”

  “You don’t like it?” He asks, looking at me in confusion.

  “No! No, it’s not that. I’m just a little confused. When you said we were going to explore and do some sightseeing, I thought we would stop at places like the Statue of Liberty.” I tell him, trying to not make myself seem like too big of a bitch, since he obviously changed his plans to try and make me feel more welcome.

  “Nope, we can do that type of stuff anytime! That wouldn’t be anything special. Now when else would you get to see things like a Gigantic Coffee Pot, or The World’s Largest Garden Gnome?”

  “Umm… Never?”

  “Exactly! I wanted to stop at the Yankee Siege Catapult. It’s in New Hampshire. Someone told me they launch giant pumpkins from it, but I looked it up and it’s closed down, so I figured we could skip that. Meaning we have more time to spend here! Come on, let’s go!” Oh, boy. I’m beginning to think we have very different ideas of what fun is. Seems like this trip was beginning to get longer by the minute with each destination he mentions. Was he really planning to see the World’s Largest Garden Gnome? Where would you even find something like that? I really hoped it was at least on the way home.

  We walked around the graveyard and as much as I hated to admit it, this was kind of cool. It looked like an actual cemetery, gravestones and all. Each retired flavor had their name along with a cute saying and the dates they were in production on a headstone, exactly as you would see in a human cemetery. I’m not going to lie; I was kind of excited to see one for Turtle Soup and may have secretly taken a picture to show my Mom when we got home. Even though it was taken off the market years ago, I still have great memories of movie nights with Mom and a pint of Turtle Soup Ice Cream.

  “Oh look! Nic! Come here! Look! I need pictures with this one!” Brayden calls out drawing my attention away from my favorite ice cream and to him. He was standing in front of a headstone on the other side of the graveyard, jumping up and down while pointing. He was making quite the scene, and I was trying hard not cringe away from the attention he was drawing to us. Brayden is easily over 6 feet tall and built like the defensive tank that he is, yet
here he was jumping up and down like a little kid on Christmas morning, pointing and calling out my name. Everyone in the place stopped to look at him and then at me. At that moment, all I wanted to do was to bury my head in the sand and hide. It was obvious he had no concerns about being the center of attention, something I struggle with at the best of times. Figuring it was better to appease him to just shut him up, I walk over to see what is making him so excited, hoping that would stop the spectacle he was making of himself. Instantly, I wish I pretended not to know him when he thrusts his phone into my hands and starts posing in all kinds of inappropriate positions. The name on the tombstone reads ‘Schweddy Balls,’ and I roll my eyes, pocketing his phone before turning to walk away.

  “Come on Nic, take my picture. I need to put this in the group chat with the team. They’ll love this.” Looking around, I realize most people were still staring at the big idiot dressed in jeans and his red and blue team jacket, who was making a scene of posing with the tombstone. Already embarrassed and not wanting to draw any more attention to us, I quickly snapped a few pictures as he changed poses for each one, before giving him back his phone, and pushing him from behind toward the factory. He allows me to push him out of the graveyard while he scrolls through the pictures I took, commenting on his favorites and uploading them to his team group chat. Almost immediately his phone started pinging with responding messages.

  “See? The guys think this is hysterical!” He tells me while shoving his phone in my face so I could read the group chat. Below the pictures he uploaded, all different weird names have started commenting. One thinks that the picture should be blown up and hung in the house. Another suggests that they take a team trip and get a group picture. I can’t help but laugh at the insanity of it all. Boys! They never seem to grow up.

  When we finally make it across the street, they are announcing that the next factory tour will be starting in five minutes. Deciding to join it since we are already here, we head to the booth to buy tickets. He steps ahead of me walking up to the ticket booth first, and I open my phone while I wait for him to finish so I can get my ticket. Deciding to continue to ignore the messages from Jess, as well as a flood of them that had recently come in from the shithead. I start to text Mom instead.

  Me: Hi, just letting you know we’re in Vermont, at the Ben and Jerry’s Factory. Apparently, I’m driving down with Brayden. He said he told you while I was sleeping.

  Mom: Hi sweetheart! He did! We’re all so excited you guys are traveling together! Can’t wait to see you, but no rush! Spend as much time together as you want! Have fun and be safe! Love you!

  Me: Love you too!

  Rolling my eyes to the sky, I pocket my phone. It looks like Mom is still firmly on the Brayden and Nicole forever train. Too bad she didn’t understand that the train had broken down a long time ago and was never going to leave the station. At one time, I had secretly been the conductor of that train but not anymore. The years that I had spent at the center of Brayden’s attention hadn’t been at all what I wanted them to be. Growing up he had been my best friend. We were two peas in a pod. Always together, usually causing trouble. Then we grew up and he flipped the script on me. Before I even had a chance to catch up, he had made sure I was the social outcast. Boys we went to school with avoided me like I had the plague, and the popular girls would laugh and make fun of me every time I would find a present from my fake admirer in my locker. High school had been pretty much unbearable due to him. Problem was that I was finding myself having a hard time reconciling the Brayden from high school and the one I was seeing now. Since we started college, I had caught him watching me a few times, always expecting him to start his crap again, but he never did. He just watched me with a sad look in his eyes. I didn’t know what to do with that, so I avoided him at all costs. Thankfully, we didn’t have any classes together and hung out with different crowds, so that made it much easier. Now here I was stuck on this road trip from hell with him and I had no idea what to expect. Would the old Brayden make an appearance? Or was this new Brayden here to stay? And if so, what did that all mean?

  Lost in my thoughts I jumped when I felt an unexpected hand on my lower back. Whirling around I find Brayden there holding his hands up with his palms facing me.

  “Woah! Calm down, it’s only me. I didn’t mean to scare you, but you were just standing there staring into space. The tour is about to start.” I look around blinking my eyes and realize I had been in danger of falling down the well that was our past. Shaking my head at myself, I take a step toward the ticket booth since no one else is waiting.

  “Sorry, I was thinking. I just gotta grab my ticket and we can go.” He puts his hand on my arm to get my attention. As his rough hands skirt across my bare forearm, goose bumps cover my skin. My heart tries to pound its way out of my chest, and my breath stalls in my lungs. The room around us seems to fade away, and all my attention is focused on the fact he is touching me. The sight of his bare skin against mine has my mind reeling in all sorts of forbidden ways.

  Suddenly, a loud clap followed by the high-pitched voice of the tour guide breaks through the bubble we were in. “Okay, everyone! The tour is starting now! Everyone who is joining us, please line up over here.”

  I quickly pull my arm away and take a step back. My eyes spring up to meet his and he looks just as stunned as I do. What the hell just happened? That was like something you would read in a romance book, not something that is supposed to actually happen in real life. My other hand skims the skin where his hand was only seconds ago, and I swear I can still feel his skin on mine.

  “Umm…” His voice cracks, and he clears his throat before speaking again. “I already grabbed you a ticket.” He says holding his hand out with the two tickets in it. He makes sure to hold them at the very end, making it easy to grab one without touching him again.

  “Yeah, ok. Thanks. I’ll get us ice cream after the tour then.” I reply knowing there is no way I was going to owe him anything. No matter what weird witchcraft my mother had voodooed through the phone to cause that reaction, there was no way I was letting him get one up on me.

  The tour guide leads us through a thirty-minute tour of the factory where the famous ice cream is made. She spouts off plenty of interesting facts about the brand and ice cream itself. I barely hear any of it. My attention is solely focused on avoiding accidentally touching Brayden as we walk side by side. I don’t know what happened back there. We touched and the world melted away. I can’t explain it and I don’t like it. Maybe I let my mother and Jess’s comments get into my head. I have read plenty of articles on the power of suggestion. That must be it. I had to be more careful moving forward or this trip could really turn out to be disastrous. Deciding not to give it any more thought or let it get any of my attention, I force myself to focus on the tour guide.

  The second half of the factory tour ends up being entertaining. It ends and we’re left in a Ben and Jerry’s store, like all good tours do. We browse around for a few minutes, and I buy myself a tie-dye shirt that says, ‘I like to Spoon,’ that has a picture of an ice cream scooper on it. It will fit in well with the rest of my shirts.

  After that we walk around to the ice cream shop, and he finds a table while I get in line to order us sundaes. Walking back to join him at the table, I place the two sundaes down, and pull my phone from my pocket, placing it face up in front of me. After sitting across from him I pick up the spoon and dig into the warm chocolate brownie that is the best part of my sundae. My phone vibrates along the table and I ignore it. I moan around the spoon as the chocolate hits my taste buds. This is so freaking good. My phone vibrates again and again as I continue to ignore it. My spoon dips back in to scoop up some whip cream and hot fudge. My phone vibrates once again. With a huff of annoyance, I reach out and flip it over, before spooning up some Phish Food ice cream and putting it into my mouth, moaning all over again.

  Brayden clears his throat, drawing my attention toward him and causing me to look up with the pi
nk spoon still in my mouth. His face is flushed, even though it isn’t very warm out today. Weird. I hope he’s feeling okay. The last thing we need is him getting sick on this road trip. I pull the spoon out of my mouth, making sure to suck every bit of ice cream off it first. I reach it out toward the sundae for more when my phone vibrates again.

  “Ugh! Leave me alone.” I practically growl.

  “Do you want to get that?”

  “Nope.” I tell him, making sure to pop the P, before sticking the spoon back in my mouth. His eyes are glued to the spoon and I wonder if maybe he wanted to try some of mine. I glanced at his, it’s barely been touched. Well, if he doesn’t like it, he could go get another because I never share chocolate or ice cream with anybody. My phone vibrates again, and I say a silent prayer for strength before reaching out and turning it off completely.

  “Everything okay?” He asks, his eyes now focused on my phone instead of the spoon. I push my empty sundae cup away before answering.

  “Yeah, it’s Sir Douche again. He has trouble taking a hint.” He half chokes, half coughs in response.

  “Sir Douche?”

  “Yes, he no longer deserves to have his name spoken, so I’m trying out different names for him. I am leaning toward Sir Douche, right now.” I tell him with a shrug, while eyeing his mostly uneaten ice cream. He glances down to where I am staring and then pushes it toward me without a word. I smile and happily dig into it. Ice cream is a food group in my diet, and this was the best.

  “So… Let me get this straight. He left you on the side of a highway where anything could have happened and now, he’s texting you.” His voice is rough and strained. I tear my focus away from the ice cream to look up at him. His eyes are narrowed, and his jaw rigid like he’s gritting his teeth as he glares at my phone, his hands sit clenched in fists on the table. He looks like he’s gearing up to fight my phone but that makes no sense.