“ Nah, I tried it that one time and it wasn’t that great. I think I’ll abstain for the rest of my life.”
He laughed and shook his head. “What are you reading?” he asked.
I looked down at my kindle and wondered if I should make something up or if I should tell him the truth.
“ An awesomely cheesy romance.” I told him the truth.
His lip turned up in a half smile. “Nice.”
“ You?”
He held up his book for me to read the title: The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time . The cover even had a die-cut of an upside down dog.
“ What’s the incident?” I asked, adjusting in my seat to get comfortable.
“ I can’t tell you,” he replied.
“ Hmph.”
“ Want to read for a bit?” he asked.
I nodded, but I just ended up staring off at the lake for a while, wondering where the rest of the trip would lead. Quite a lot had happened and we’d been gone for less than twenty-four hours. If the excitement of the trip was modeled on an exponential curve, we’d be having sex by tonight and I’d be pregnant and married by the end of the two weeks.
…
We’d packed our stuff and headed out toward greener pastures before noon, deciding that before setting out for Odessa and Marfa, we wanted to see the coast. Beaches in Texas aren’t the most pristine, but as long as you steer clear of Galveston, the water isn’t too murky. We were heading south and jamming to Ben Kweller when I asked Beck what he wanted to do with his life now that he wasn’t sure about engineering.
“ I don’t know. Maybe release a studio album of guttural noises. It’ll be white noise for hardcore rock fans.”
“ Like Yoko Ono?” I asked, pretending to take him seriously.
“ Not even remotely similar. Mine will be much more guttural. Like, at least four times as guttural, maybe even twice as throaty.”
He didn’t give me any time to expand on that ridiculous topic.
“ What do you plan on doing to make money?” he asked, peering over at me from behind his Wayfarer sunglasses.
“ I have absolutely zero, negative zero idea of what I want to do.” Just the thought of it brought back that immense pressure in my chest.
“ On account of not really having a future before two months ago?” he asked.
“ Exactly.”
He nodded empathetically. “So now the world is your proverbial oyster and you’re finding out that maybe shucking oysters isn’t quite as easy as everyone makes it out to be. Oh, and there are far fewer pearls than you expected.”
I nodded, thinking that I might have been in love with him in that moment.
“ You could be the producer for my album,” he suggested. That was the very first time he suggested a solution to my future-career woes.
“ Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”
“ Oh my GOD,” he shouted out of the blue, and I jerked back against my seat in fear. Were we about to hit a car or swerve off the road?
“ WHAT?” I yelled, pressing my hand to my heart.
“ A sign back there said to exit in five miles for a Prehistoric Dinosaur Adventure Park.”
Dear God.
There was no point in arguing, Beck had us turning into the nearly abandoned park less than ten minutes later.
“ Abby, I realize you’re containing your excitement because you’re trying to remain mysterious and aloof, but please know that if you want to squeal or cry, I wouldn’t think less of you.”
I crossed my arms in front of my chest and kicked the gravel with my Keds. “I can’t believe you’re dragging me here.”