Driving Miss Katie.
What could I say about driving Miss Katie?
Of course, the in-person conversation was never scintillating, but I knew I had to shoot for some small talk before I proposed aplaylist, podcast, or audiobook. “Are you excited?” was my riveting opening line once we were on the road (which took a hot minute, because Katie had two suitcases and a trio of tote bags).
She grimaced when we popped over a pothole. “Would you mind keeping both hands on the wheel?”
“Oh, yeah, sure.” I repositioned my hands at ten and two. Driving the Defender was second nature to me, so I usually just drove with my left hand while my right played with a fidget toy from my cupholder. But I admit, as I caught Katie reach for the car’s safety strap, riding in the Defender was anexperience. My history professor grandfather used to say that it could be as bumpy as a World War II B-17 bomber plane. “You’ve been in this car before, haven’t you?” I asked.
“Only once,” she answered. “Austin took me for a short ride a few years ago, when you were in Florida for a showcase. He’s very respectful about this being your car.”
Warmth filled my heart. “He wasn’t too thrilled when Grandpa gave it to me. I didn’t even have my license yet, only my permit.”
“He mentioned that.”
She didn’t elaborate.
“There are a pair of sea bands in the glove compartment,” I said when Katie didn’t look any more comfortable. “They really help with car sickness.”
“I’m not carsick,” she said, but rifled around for the wristbands anyway. “You’re just driving too aggressively.”
I tried not to sigh. We’d been on the highway all of fifteen minutes.
“Do you want to listen to something?” I asked after a while of nothing but wishing I hadn’t put the Defender’s soft top back on this morning. It was a beautiful summer day, and I wanted to feel the wind in my face and whip through my hair while I blasted my pump-up playlist. “You can scroll through my Spotify, or I haveRules of Civilityon Audible. It’s by the same author asA Gentleman In Moscow—”
“No thanks,” she cut in. “I’ve readRules of Civilitytwice.”
“Okay,” I said quietly.
Why was this so hard?
“Yes, I’m excited,” Katie said, as if starting our conversation over. “I’ve been to three bachelorettes this summer, and they’ve all been absurdly over-the-top in cities that never sleep. I mean, we had to do this ridiculous scavenger hunt in Nashville for my one friend…” She trailed off. “Anyway, I’m glad this weekend is going to be more relaxed.”
“Amanda said it’s going to be super chill,” I confirmed, even though the Google Doc didn’t make it seem that way. Everything, right down to our outfits, was planned.
Katie nodded, but before I could resume staring dead eyed out the windshield, she asked how things were going with online dating. “Are you still talking to Jacob?”
I tried not to make a face. Katie wanted to know how my journey to true love was going? It truly seemed like her interestand enthusiasm had timed out of Ready-Set-Date, which honestly felt like a cut each time she ignored updates. She hadn’t commented when I’d texted the bridesmaids after the movies.This just in…I’d written, eager to entertain.We had a really great time!
Yasmin responded first:Did you guys kiss?!
I teased them with a smirking emoji.
Meredith’s message stuck out among the cheering others.How was it?she asked.Swiftian?
If only, I wrote, having discovered ages ago that Meredith was a Swiftie. We’d traded friendship bracelets.
I wouldn’t worry, Paige said after I’d elaborated.My first boyfriend wasn’t a good kisser at first either. It takes some practice!
Paige Cavanaugh, did you even read her message?Reese texted.She compared kissing him to a St. Bernard slobbering on her! She used the word “drool.”
We’ve all been there…Courtney wrote.
The consensus was that first kisses weren’t everything, and that if I’d genuinely had fun with Jacob, I should dismiss our kiss as a fluke and give him another shot. “Yeah, we’re still talking,” I told Katie now. “He asked me out again for this weekend, but obviously I said no. I think I’ll ask him to get pizza and ice cream or something when I’m back. I just don’t…” I trailed off to ease up on the Defender’s clutch pedal and grab the gear stick so I could shift.
“You just don’t what?” she asked when I had both hands back on the wheel.
I shrugged. “I just don’t know if I like him enough to kiss him again. Okay, sure, first kisses aren’t like the ones in the movies, but this was seriously gross.”
