It was dark when we pulled into the gas station. Macey pointed out that the distinct lack of people and absence of light made the scene look like a scary movie. I reminded her that it was midnight, and Sunday was crossing into Monday. Of course there weren’t going to be people getting gas at a random station outside of Chicago.
Normally, at this point in the night, we’d be in a hotel somewhere sleeping off the drive or just coming back from a day of exploring. Things were changing now, though.
It reminded me of summers as a kid—how you spent three months straight eating hotdogs and playing games with kids in the neighborhood, only for it to disappear in the span of a weekend. Suddenly, you woke up on Monday and were forced to return to school.
I hadn’t felt that way in a long time, yet here I was, on the cusp of returning to classes, homework, and exams.
We’d dropped Daphne off in St. Louis earlier today. She and Macey had teared up when we said our goodbyes, and Daphne made it very clear that if Macey and I ever broke up, she was onMacey’s side. Fair enough. Fortunately, I never intended for anything to get in between Macey and me again.
After three months on the road, Daphne was ready to see her schoolmates and get back into class. I didn’t know I felt ready to do something similar until today. It had nothing to do with being prepared—I brought a handful of textbooks and all my old school notes with me to read this summer—but it was more about my mental state.
I wasn’t sure if I could ever be ready for change, but this was as close as I got.
And it felt pretty good.
I stepped out of the car, and Macey followed.
“How much longer until Chicago?” she asked as I inserted my card at the pump.
I typed in my zip code. “About an hour. Maybe less, if you’re behind the wheel.”
She rolled her eyes. The speed at which she drove terrified me, but Daphne found it exhilarating. I loved Macey, but I felt much safer when I stayed behind the wheel. It was inevitable, though, that we needed to trade spots when I was tired.
“Are you excited to be home?” she asked.
“I’m always excited to be with you.” I monitored the pump as gas filled the car. “I don’t care if it’s Aruba, Kansas City, or Chicago.”
“Good way to avoid the question,” she teased. “You don’t miss home, then?”
“No, I do. The change makes me a little nervous, that’s all.”
Macey stepped closer and rubbed a hand over my bicep. “Yeah. Change is scary. But you’ve got me.”
“I do,” I said, running my lips over her hairline.
While Macey’s blog thrived this summer—I couldn’t keep track of her subscriber count anymore—I hadn’t opened social media once. I didn’t want to see what people said about me, ifthey said anything at all. It would be difficult to stay off social media when my girlfriend was a rising travel blogger, but I felt comfortable returning on a part-time basis.
She brought her free hand to my cheek and tugged me down. No effort was needed because I moved eagerly, capturing those sweet lips with mine.
When she started to pull away, I reached forward again. “There’s no one here.”
“I’m not having sex with you at a gas station.” She laughed against my lips.
Sex had been hard to find time for when you were constantly with your sister.
“Of course not,” I said, planting a string of kisses down her throat. “A gas station doesn’t have everything my plans need.”
A small sigh, and then, “Plans?”
“Lots of them.”
I slid my hands up the lithe curve of her waist, where the base of her ribs flared with every breath.
“Tell me about them,” she demanded.
Suddenly, I was overwhelmed by how far we’d come. This brilliant, beautiful woman was all mine, and we’d never have to fake anything again.
“I can share a preview,” was my generous offer.
