I’m scared to ask the questions that really matter—his social media, his sex life, and whether he’d ever want a future with me. My mom and Cynthia tell me to be brave and just talk to him. I want to, but every time I try, I freeze.
And now I’m kicking myself for opening my big mouth.
Aiden sold his condo and is finally moving to Oregon after months of a logistics nightmare. I offered to fly to New York and drive the three thousand miles with him in a small rented movingvan. Shipping pods handled most of his stuff, but he wants to bring a few valuables and the cats himself.
Five days cramped in a van, long nights in hotel rooms, and the two of us shoulder to shoulder for hours on end. How the hell am I supposed to keep my hands to myself?
“Well, I think that’s everything,” Aiden says, scanning his empty condo for anything he might have missed.
We’ve spent the morning packing the van and wrestling Maisy and Daisy into their travel carrier. The cats look insulted and miserable. It’s their first trip anywhere besides the vet, and Aiden’s jittery about it and more protective than I expected.
“How are you feeling about leaving New York?” I ask him hesitantly. His excitement about moving has been clear, but now that it’s real, I sense he’s feeling sad about leaving.
He shrugs, “I’m good. Lauren reminded me it’s normal to feel the emotional weight of change. I’ve loved my time living in New York, but I’m ready for this.”
Stepping into the hallway, he locks the door and drops the keys into the lockbox. He’s already said goodbye to Martha next door. She cried when he hugged her and fussed over the cats one last time. She loved taking care of them while he was away.
Last night’s dinner with his friends Lauren and Matt went better than I expected. Lauren’s steady and down-to-earth, but also hilarious, which made the conversation way more entertaining than I’d thought. Matt reminded me of my dad when I was younger—grounded and easy to talk to. I had a really good time with them.
It’s early afternoon by the time we hit the road, so we avoid most of the city traffic and head for western Pennsylvania, hoping to reach our first stop by nightfall.
“Did you make a good playlist?” Aiden asks as we merge onto I-80.
“Of course. Prepare to be dazzled by my eclectic genius,” I tell him as I pair my phone with the van’s Bluetooth.
We’ve turned music into a competition—whose playlist proves superior. I pulled from all my favorites, from classic rock and folky country to progressive metal and contemporary pop.
“Okay, musical mastermind,” he teases. “Wow me.”
Pressing play, the slow, aching sounds of ‘Rain’ by Sleep Token filters through the speakers. I’ve always loved this song, but I regretfully forgot how closely the lyrics mirror what I wish I could say but don’t have the courage.
As the last notes fade, a wave of dread settles in my stomach. The air between us feels thick. Panicking, I quickly switch tracks to ‘Shake It Off’ by Taylor Swift, tossing out glitter to lighten the awkward moment.
Aiden raises an eyebrow. “Are you a Swiftie?”
“Um, yeah. Taylor always makes everything better.”
He’s laughing, but by the chorus, he’s singing along. When ‘I Knew You Were Trouble’ comes on next, we’re both belting out the lyrics at the top of our lungs, while I unashamedly dance in my seat like a sixteen-year-old girl on a caffeine high.
The cats have finally fallen asleep in their carrier. The hum of the engine, the steady rhythm of the road, and the good music make the miles melt away. Between road-game challenges and jokes, we reminisce about our early years, and the hours fly by.
“Here’s a game for us,” Aiden says after we stop for gas and a bag of wildly overpriced snacks. “All-time favorite childhood memory. Go.”
I don’t even hesitate. “The Niagara Falls trip our families went on when we were twelve. Do you remember that?”
“Oh my God, yes,” he laughs. “That trip was a blast.”
“I’d just gotten my braces off, and I could finally eat saltwater taffy again. I ate so much of it I threw up on theMaid of the Mist.”
He snorts. “I totally forgot about that. If I remember right, you projectile vomited over the side of the boat.”
“Yeah, not my proudest moment,” I admit. “But that’s not why it stuck with me. That trip was my sexual awakening.”
Aiden glances over at me, a curious look crossing his face. I told him this story when I came out to him when I was fifteen, but he may not remember it.
“We watched the firstLord of the Ringsone night in the hotel,“ I remind him. “I had all these feelings for Aragorn. Like, deep feelings. That man in tight leather, with his scruffy beard and smoldering intensity. It was game over.”
He chuckles. “So, the memory of you barfing taffy and thirsting over a hot ranger is your cornerstone moment?”
