Finally we pulled into the rest stop and I practically jumped out of the car. I needed some space before I said something I’d regret. I didn’t handle rejection and hurt feelings well. The urge to hurt him as he had just unknowingly hurt me was overwhelming.
“Don’t you want to eat?” Flynn called out as I walked toward the restrooms.
“No! I just need a minute!” I said, not looking at him.
I went into the bathroom, barely noticing the disgusting smell, and splashed some water on my face and looked at my reflection in the mirror.
What was wrong with me?
I knew better than to put unrealistic expectations on Flynn. He would never be able to live up to them. But I had hoped when we started this thing between us that there would be anusat the end of it all.
I had been counting on it.
And now I was beginning to realize that was something I may not be able to rely on.
It was like waking up on Christmas morning to find out that Santa hadn’t been there and was actually just your parents who had been too drunk to remember to buy you any presents (my childhood didn’t lend itself to any positive metaphors). It was soul shattering.
I took several deep breaths and tried to calm myself down.
This wasn’t Flynn’s fault. He couldn’t help who he was. He was settled and comfortable. I couldn’t expect him to uproot and follow me wherever I ended up. He needed consistency and normalcy.
He needed roots.
And I was the last person in the world to give them to him.
How did you reconcile yourself with the knowledge that your life and the life of the man you loved were never going to follow the same path?
I patted my face dry with a paper towel. I needed to focus on this weekend and being with Flynn. I had to trust that everything would sort itself out and we would make it work.
Failure wasn’t an option when it came to Flynn and me.
I left the restroom and joined Flynn over by the tree line while Murphy sniffed the ground.
“Did you go to the bathroom? Do you feel better now?” Flynn asked and I grimaced.
“Flynn, you don’t ask people that stuff, come on,” I corrected.
“Come on where?” he asked and I shook my head.
“Never mind,” I muttered, watching Murphy as he bounded after a squirrel.
A few minutes later, Flynn consulted his watch and deemed it was time for us to get back on the road. He had calculated it should take us another three and a half hours and he planned for us to get to Sandbridge by dinnertime. He was inflexible about his schedule.
Before I could get in the car, still feeling despondent and low, Flynn reached out and took my hand. I startled at the contact. He tucked his fingers between mine and gave me a shy smile.
“I’m glad I’m going to the beach with you,” he said softly.
And he melted me. I was a giant, soggy mess. My worries, my insecurities, my endless amount of personal baggage drifted away and became completely inconsequential. I gave him a watery smile and squeezed his hand.
“Can I kiss you?” I asked him.
“Yes, I’d like that,” he agreed.
I moved closer and slowly wrapped my arms around his neck. Going up on my tiptoes, I pressed my mouth against his. He returned the pressure with eager force.
Nothing else in the world existed when Flynn kissed me. His lips communicated things that he could never verbalize. Even if he couldn’t give me the words, his mouth gave me everything else.
Flynn bit my bottom lip, much more gently than he had done in the past. He was learning. I smiled against his mouth. Flynn’s hands started to work their way up the back of my shirt and I pulled back.
