Was it even possible?
It had to be.
People had already been speculating, but if we confirmed any of it now, they’d all be impossible—Babs with her not-so-subtle winks, Tay with her knowing smiles, and God help me, Mrs. Grady with whatever her version of disapproval would look like.
The truth was, I wasn’t ready for that.
And honestly, there was something thrilling about the secrecy. It made my pulse skip.
If Tay hadn’t started talking just then—her voice crackling through the bus mic like a splash of cold water—I wasn’t entirely sure I wouldn’t have reached for his hand.
Wouldn’t have guided it just a little higher.
Wouldn’t have let my knees fall open…
But Tay did speak.
“Okay, my beautiful Love Bus riders, you have forty-five minutes to stretch out, grab a cup of coffee and some souvenirs, and exist in four states at once. Don’t forget to tag WonderWorldTours in your photos, but please, before using the restroom, triple check to make sure you aren’t still recording a live video. Looking at you, Patty.”
“How did I miss that one?” I asked Noah, trying to sound normal.
He just gave me a knowing look and then shrugged.
And because we were all alert now, moved his hand away.
“It was only for a second!” Patty called out, and from behind, I could see her neck turning red. It looked like Josie, the queen of accidental posts, had been dethroned.
“Which was most unfortunate,” one of the seniors from the back of the bus—I was pretty sure it was Don?—called up.
Maybe it was a good thing I’d missed that whole debacle.
Noah squeezed my hand—but only for a second, just a quick press of warmth—before everyone started filing off the bus like a row of mismatched ducklings, in their sunhats and orthopedic sneakers.
I stepped down and into a dry and desolate scene. Rust-colored buttes interrupted the otherwise flat horizon, the sky a ridiculously saturated blue, and air so devoid of moisture it practically crunched with every breath I took.
I tugged at the hem of my tank top—simple white cotton, maybe a little too clingy for how hyper-aware I was of Noah beside me—and smoothed out my shorts. My super-cool river sandals were already gathering dust, and the ponytail I’d tied my hair into this morning was hanging on for dear life. It was the first day of June—pretty sure—and it definitely felt like summer now.
Before I could wander toward the monument with the rest of the group, Noah gently caught my wrist.
“Not so fast,” he murmured. “Come here.”
And before I could ask where here was, he tugged me around to the back of the bus, out of sight of the group, where the sun warmed the metal siding and a breeze kicked up little swirls of dust.
“Noah—”
“I know,” he said, stepping in close. He looked down at me, eyes squinting in the sunlight. “But I miss you already.”
And then he kissed me. Not the careful, tentative kind.
No, this kiss literally knocked the breath out of me, and then it made me forget where I was. And it felt like he didn’t just want to kiss me, he needed to.
I didn’t stop him.
I mean, why would I?
Until—
“Before I show you the spot where four states converge—have a look at our brand-new bus…”
