After we grab a light breakfast, an unsure quiet settles between us in the parking lot.
This slow-paced action the Midwest offers leaves us too much time to reflect on what we’re doing and what will happen next. His thoughts and paranoia have rubbed off on me, making me question every little action between us. We need to get the hell out of Ohio. I need non-stop activities that will get Adam back in the mood to try crazy, reckless things.
“Here’s an idea.” I turn to him, my eyes bright. “Let’s blow off the other stops and drive straight through to New York!”
His lips curve with an amused smirk. “What about Cleveland and Buffalo?”
“We’ll spend the extra two days in New York. I seriously doubt we can ever get enough of the city anyway. We’ll crash in a cheap hotel near Times Square until the brownstone in Murray Hill is ready. Maybe the owner would even let us in early. I know it will be a little more expensive, but YOLO, am I right?”
Adam shakes his head, laughing in a deep tone. “You’re the last person I’d ever expect to use YOLO. That’s something one of my brother’s dimwitted flings would say.”
He steps in close to run his fingers up my forearm until my skin pricks with goosebumps. “Hey. Are you okay? Do you want to talk about last night?”
“Are you kidding?” I hook my finger through his belt loop and drag him closer. “I can’t stop thinking about last night and what I’m going to do to you the minute we hit the big city.”
Standing on my tip-toes, I press my lips to his mouth, cupping his backside in my hands and squeezing. I suck on his bottom lip for a minute before releasing it. His tongue tries to barge its way in, but I back away, giggling. “Consider that a preview of what’s to come when we see the city lights, big boy. Now let’s hit the road.”
The freeways all seem to be wide open under the clear blue skies, encouraging us to reach our destination in record time. To keep things from getting too serious, I focus on upbeat songs and initiate the dumbest games I can think of. We spend close to an hour with Kelly on my phone, talking about anything and everything that doesn’t have to do with our complicated relationship and how we’ve let things progress. She’s too busy telling us horror stories of campers wetting their beds and getting their first periods to realize I’m avoiding specific subjects.
Somewhere between Cleveland and New York, the next shift of the drive is turned over to me. As Adam snoozes against the side of the truck, I have to bite down on my lip to keep from pulling over to wake him, because damn it he looks crazy hot with his eyelashes brushing against his cheeks, and the way his fingers rest against my thigh and occasionally twitch...forget about it.
Curiosity won’t let me allow his unknown secret to rest. I haven’t heard him call anyone since we hit the road. Even I’ve talked to my parents every day, though not really by choice. Does he get along with his parents? What could he be hiding? Am I ready to deal with whatever it is, or do I just ride this affair out until the trip is over? What lies has he told in order to protect the truth? How do I know where the lies stop and the truth begins?
When the end of my three hour shift ends, Adam’s still sound asleep, but I don’t wake him. I’m too caught up in my growing fears that something big is going to tear our happy road trip apart.
“Adam!” I yell, nudging him in the ribs. “C’mon, I need a copilot right about now!”
“Turn left,” my phone commands. I jerk the car into the only open slot available. The Mercedes behind me lays on his horn.
Adam perks to life in the passenger’s seat. As he scrambles to sit tall, his eyes grow wide. “Shit! Is this New York already? Why’d you let me sleep so long?”
“Apparently it’s because I have a death wish. Will you please help me navigate through this nightmare? You already missed the Holland Tunnel. Statistically speaking, we’re not in the worst city to drive in, but if we make it through this in one piece, you’ll understand why I’m close to hyperventilation over here.”
Adam rubs his eyes before grabbing my phone. “Where do you need to go next?”
“Technically, it’s a straight shot up Sixth Avenue to Times Square, but I need you to help me watch for Kamikaze taxi drivers.”
“Pull over so I can drive.”
“And miss the rights to brag that I may or may not have survived driving through downtown Manhattan? Just please, tell me whenever you see your life flash before your eyes.”
What could easily be nothing more than five miles takes us almost an hour, three middle fingers, and two near-crashes. I’m so eager to get off the main roads that I duck into the first parking garage we come across without caring if there’s an available hotel nearby.