“Flynn, remember, that sort of stuff we do when we’re alone. I’m all for a little PDA, but I don’t need the truckers over there getting an eyeful as you grope me,” I chuckled.
“I want to touch you. I like feeling your skin,” he said, sounding breathless.
“I know. Me too, baby. But let’s wait until later for that,” I urged as he pulled his hands out from my shirt and blatantly adjusted himself.
“We’d better get going if we want to get to the beach by dinner. I’ve always wanted to see the ocean at sunset,” I said, taking Murphy’s leash from Flynn.
“We have two hundred and twenty-three more miles to go,” Flynn said, turning on The Cure again once we were settled into the car.
“Why don’t we try listening to the radio?” I suggested.
“I like The Cure. They’re my favorite band. I want to listen to them,” Flynn argued and I didn’t press the issue. Though, I reminded myself that if I were ever on an extended road trip with Flynn again, earplugs would be a must.
We drove the rest of the way with very little talking. And I was okay with that.
Because sometimes the silence said more than words.
-Ellie-
I knew the moment we got close to the ocean. The landscape completely changed. I had lived my entire life surrounded my mountains and hills. It’s all I ever knew.
So the brush and windswept trees and flat, endless expanse was like an alien planet. Seagulls swooped and soared above the trees and the sun seemed brighter.
I rolled down my window so I could smell the salt in the air.
“Roll up the window!” Flynn said, sounding irritated.
“I just wanted to smell the sea air, Flynn. It’s not a big deal,” I murmured, rolling the window up.
“It’s too loud. I don’t like the noise,” he replied, relaxing again now that the sounds of traffic were drowned out by his music.
“Sorry,” I said, trying to hide how irked I was.
Flynn drove through populated urban areas as he headed toward Sandbridge Beach. I was fascinated by everything I saw.
Slowly the sights and sounds of the city gave way to sand dunes and quaint beach shops. We followed the road and I could see the ocean outside my window. I had only ever seen that perfect blue on television. Now I was seeing it with my own eyes!
“Look, Flynn!” I gasped, hardly able to believe what I was seeing.
Flynn didn’t look; he was entirely focused on his driving. He was consulting the paper he had written his directions on and starting to look anxious.
“This isn’t right. I should have been able to turn right back there. But there was no road.” I recognized the panic on his face and I knew he was minutes from a meltdown.
“Let me drive, Flynn. I’ll get us there,” I said softly. Flynn shook his head.
“I’m driving. I have to do it. But there should have been a road back there. There wasn’t a road. The directions said there would be a road. See, I wrote it there,” he pointed to the paper he had propped up on his dashboard so he could see it.
I had tried to convince him before we left to use the GPS on his phone. I had explained it would make it easier to find our hotel once we got to Sandbridge. Flynn had adamantly refused, saying he’d write it down. I knew he felt better when he wrote things down. But I had worried something like this would happen.
“Can I have your phone?” I asked, careful to keep my voice calm.
“There wasn’t a road back there! There was supposed to be a road,” Flynn was saying again.
I knew he was dangerously closed to losing it. I reached over and picked up his phone from the center consol. I found the navigation app and plugged in the hotel’s address. The directions popped up a few seconds later.
“Look, Flynn, you can turn right at the next light. It’s okay,” I said, trying to reason with him. I showed him his phone.
“No, it said turn back there,” Flynn said again. He had slowed down to fifteen miles an hour and there was a line of cars behind us. Someone laid on the horn and Flynn gripped the wheel so tightly I thought he’d snap it in half.
