All Over the Map

10. Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

Gabe doesn’t say much when we get on the road. I ignore him and scroll through Seth’s Instagram. Maybe Gabe is right that I ask a lot of questions. I feel about a thousand forming to ask Seth.

“What are you doing?” Gabe asks after an hour of silence.

“Thinking about meeting Seth tomorrow.”

“Nervous?”

Duh, Gabe. “Yeah.” I keep any edge out of my tone. The crack about acting like a two-year-old still stings, and I don’t want to give him any more reason to think I’m acting like a kid. Besides, I’m tired of being in my head. “So, that idea for Fake Grandma was pretty genius. Seriously, how’d you come up with it?”

He flicks a glance in the mirror toward sleeping Mia. “My roommate’s a theater major, and I got interested in his fall play. I’m taking a class in set design this semester. Those model kitchens are basically sets, so I just needed to find an actor.”

“I thought you were majoring in business.”

“I am. It’s just a class for fun.” But his tone has grown cool, and I want to ask why. It makes me think either the class isn’t fun or he isn’t taking it for fun, but he doesn’t leave an opening. “What do you want to major in?”

“Not sure. Maybe psychology.” I get a tingle somewhere in my heart region that he wants to know my major.

“Huh.”

“You sound surprised.”

“Most girls your age want to be veterinarians or teachers.”

The tingle disappears with “girls your age.”

“Girls my age,” I repeat. “I turned seventeen last month. Is that much different than eighteen?”

“For real?” He glances over at me in surprise. “Seventeen?”

I’ve had the age conversation with him before if we count the night everything went wrong. I’m not having it again. I go back to ignoring him and scrolling through my DNA app, looking at genealogy stuff.

He falls quiet, and I’m less sure than ever why he made me take shotgun. We haven’t spoken for another hour by the time we pull into the parking lot of an older-looking motel.

I’m paying for everything on this trip with money I’ve earned working for Mom the past three summers. It’s all for my New York fund, and I hoard it like crazy, so I have a couple thousand dollars. That’s enough for airfare to New York with enough left over to buy dorm room furnishing basics. But it’s not enough to pay for actually living in the dorms. I hate dipping into it, but there’s no way I’m letting Mia pay for anything. That means a shoestring budget and cheap motels.

The desk clerk doesn’t ask for ID when I tell him I’m paying cash up front, and soon we’re settled into a room with double beds, Gabe in one, Mia and me sharing the other. I text Seth while Gabe is in the shower. In Tempe. Still good to meet tomorrow?

He responds with the 100 emoji and a time and address for a breakfast place.

When Gabe comes out wafting the smell of bar soap and clean cotton after him, I drag myself into the bathroom, wishing I’d gone first. It’s unsettling stripping down in his leftover steam, the tiles still wet from his shower. I dig out my toiletries and focus on scrubbing the road funk off me. Weird how I can feel so grungy after sitting for twelve hours in a car.

I’m mad at Gabe for crashing this trip all over again when I pull on my pajamas. They’d have been fine if it were still Mia and me. It’s a purple tank top and matching shorts, but the straps feel too skinny, the bottoms too short and thin. I keep my bra on, which makes me even more annoyed with Gabe. But when I come out of the bathroom, he mumbles and turns over, his back to our bed, like he’s already half asleep.

I crawl in with Mia and read on my Kindle for a while after she turns off the light, but I only half absorb the story because I’m so attuned to Gabe’s breathing. Eventually, mine falls into rhythm with his and I drift off to sleep.

“Wake up, dork,” Mia calls to Gabe when she comes out of the bathroom the next morning. He grumbles but rolls over and struggles upright to rest on his elbows. His blankets slip down to reveal his bare chest and shoulders. He’s taller than Daniel or Adrian at almost six feet, but he’s not built as big as either of them. Still, his muscles have gotten more defined since the Mario Kart incident.

“We need to go soon.” My words are sharp.

He stares at me blearily. “I’m going to need at least two seconds to wake up.”

“Let the shower do that. I need to meet Seth in forty minutes.”

He grumbles something else, but he tosses off the covers, and I look away but not before it registers that he’s wearing pajama bottoms. I’m relieved. Sandoval boys sometimes spend entire weekends in their boxers.

“Are you nervous?” Mia asks.

I wait until Gabe shuffles into the bathroom before I answer. I swear he’s moving extra slow, like he wants to hear, but I wait him out.

“Yes,” I say when the door shuts behind him.

“I wish you were my sister.” She leans down to hug me. “Seth is going to love you.”

It’s not even that, and I’m not sure how to explain the sticky feeling lining my stomach. I worry that he won’t feel like a brother to me when I meet him, but I don’t want to say those words out loud. They get stuck somewhere deep inside of me, trapped in the same sticky feeling making my stomach reject the idea of the breakfast I’m supposed to eat with him. Seth Birdsall.

My brother.

“I’m going to sit in the Jeep and wait,” I say. I snag Gabe’s keys and escape into the quiet of the passenger seat.

I spend the whole time going through Seth’s Instagram again, wondering what he’s like. How does he laugh? Does he hate sweet breakfasts too? Have a short temper like I do, which is so opposite of Mom and her freaky level of calm?

Mia and Gabe walk out ten minutes later, him in jeans and a black T-shirt, his hair still wet. The shirt isn’t particularly tight—that’s more Carlos’s thing—but it still shows off Gabe’s shoulders and chest. My eyes slide away when he opens his door.

“You don’t have to ride shotgun today,” Gabe says. “You satisfied the bet.”

I’d taken the front seat on autopilot, and now I have to figure out how to climb out and get in the back even as my dignity drains out of me.

“Right,” I say reaching for the door. “I sat up here for the leg room while I waited.”

“You don’t have to move,” he says quickly. “I just didn’t want you to think you were stuck up here again. May as well stay. It’s a short drive.” He nods at my phone on the console, the address already mapped. I settle into my seat, absently rubbing Dolly Parton’s head for good luck.

As if sensing I don’t have any headspace for conversation, Mia makes observations about Tempe as it flies past the windows. I listen and watch but don’t register anything. I’m running worries on a loop. Like the fact that I’m an awkward hugger. Seth and I will probably hug. Seems like we should. Which means I have a high probability of making it weird.

Soon we’re pulling off the exit that leads to the restaurant Seth suggested. I can’t decide if it feels too soon or overdue to be meeting him for the first time.

Gabe pulls into the parking lot of a breakfast spot with yellow awnings. Turquoise letters spell out the restaurant name, Yolks On You, across the front window.

The dash clock shows we’re five minutes early. I’m not sure what to do. I imagine myself standing in the doorway, squinting at every young guy in a booth, trying to figure out who I’m related to.

“Ready?” Mia asks.

“In a minute.” I text Seth.

I’m here

Almost there. Grab a booth if you can.

“He wants me to go in and wait for him. He’s almost here.”

“Let’s go.” Gabe pulls the keys from the ignition, but I grab his arm before he can open his door.

“What are you doing? You’re not coming.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “We’re supposed to let you go by yourself to meet a guy who could be catfishing you?”

I shake my head and let go of his arm. “Mia’s coming with me. I thought maybe it would help break the ice with baseball and stuff, so I won’t be alone. But I don’t want you there.”

His eyes flicker, almost a blink, but not quite. “Got it. I’ll wait here.”

“I don’t want to overwhelm him.” That’s not why. This meeting makes me feel vulnerable enough. Gabe’s already seen me at my most exposed. I don’t need him on the front row for this.

Another blink. “Yeah, sure. That makes sense.”

“We’re not dumb, Gabe,” Mia says, throwing her arms around him from behind. “We’re not going to leave and go anywhere with him. But thank you for caring.” He half chokes, half laughs and pries her arms loose.

We climb out. I take a deep breath and walk in with Mia beside me.