39 another road trip
The car smells like iced coffee, vanilla perfume, and whatever snack Jess opened twenty minutes ago and immediately forgot about, which means there's now an open bag of something sugary melting slowly in the cup holder while she argues passionately with the aux cord like it personally offended her.
"I'm telling you," she says, scrolling aggressively through playlists, "if we don't start this drive with the right energy, the entire trip is doomed."
"The trip is five hours long," Riley replies calmly from the driver's seat, one hand steady on the wheel, eyes flicking briefly to the side mirror before returning to the road. "It will survive your music choices."
"You say that like you don't benefit from my superior taste."
"I say that like I value my hearing."
I sink a little deeper into the passenger seat, pulling my hoodie sleeves over my hands as I watch the road stretch out ahead of us in long, sunlit lines. The sky is still bright, early enough that everything feels open and possible in that quiet, unspoken way that comes with leaving.
Leaving always feels like something.
Even if you're not sure what.
Jess finally lands on a song, something loud and dramatic, and turns it up just enough to be annoying but not enough for Riley to complain about it. She settles back like she's just solved a major problem, satisfied with herself.
"Okay," she says, clapping once. "Now we can talk."
I don't even look at her. "No."
"Yes."
"No," I repeat, a little more firmly this time, because I already know where this is going and I'm not doing that five minutes into a five-hour drive.
Jess twists in her seat to look at me, eyes bright with the kind of excitement that should honestly be illegal this early into a road trip. "You've been weird."
"I've been normal."
"Wrong," she says immediately. "You've been quiet. That's not normal. That's suspicious."
Riley huffs out a small laugh under her breath.
"She's not wrong," she says.
I turn my head slightly, narrowing my eyes at both of them. "You're both dramatic."
Jess gasps. "Oh my god. Riley, did you hear that? She just called us dramatic. That's insane."
"It is a little ironic," Riley admits.
I press my lips together, trying not to smile, because this-this exact rhythm, this back-and-forth, the way Jess fills every silence and Riley balances her out-it's familiar. Comfortable. Easy.
And for a second, it distracts me from the other thing sitting just under the surface.
The real reason I'm here.
Because the truth is, a few weeks ago, this would've felt different, like something I had to do. Like part of an agreement, something tied to expectations and timing and showing up when it mattered for someone else's sake.
But now-
I glance out the window again, watching the highway blur past, the sunlight catching on the edges of passing cars.
Now it doesn't feel like that.
Jess reaches forward suddenly, grabbing my arm like she physically cannot hold her thoughts in any longer.
"Okay, but seriously," she says, lowering her voice slightly like she's about to reveal something important. "You're excited."
"I'm not."
"You are."
"I'm not," I repeat, but there's no bite to it this time.
Jess leans closer, squinting at me like she's trying to read something written across my face.
"You didn't even complain when we left," she points out.
"I complained."
"You said, 'fine,'" she says. "That's not complaining. That's acceptance. That's growth. I don't like it."
Riley smiles faintly, eyes still on the road. "It is a little concerning."
I shake my head, letting out a quiet breath. "You're both insufferable."
Jess beams. "Thank you."
There's a pause after that-not an empty one, just softer. The music fills it, something steady and rhythmic, and for a few minutes, none of us say anything.
Jess scrolls through her phone, Riley drives.
And I-
I think.
Not in a loud way. Not in the overanalyzing, spiraling way I usually do when something shifts and I don't want to look at it too closely.
Just... quietly.
Because the truth is, I know exactly what changed.
I just haven't said it out loud yet.
I rest my head lightly against the window, the cool glass grounding, and let my eyes drift shut for a second.
I'm not here because I have to be.
I'm not here because of a deal, or a plan, or something that needs to be maintained.
I'm here because I want to be. Because I want to see him.
The realization doesn't hit all at once-it settles, slow and steady, like something that's been there for a while and is only now finding the space to exist without being pushed away.
And for once, I don't argue with it.
Jess suddenly gasps. Not a small gasp. A dramatic, full-body reaction that makes Riley flinch slightly and me sit up immediately.
"What?" I ask.
"Nothing," she says quickly, way too quickly.
Riley glances at her, one eyebrow lifting. "That didn't sound like nothing."
Jess shakes her head, already looking back at her phone, a suspicious smile pulling at her lips.
"I just remembered something."
"Jess," I say slowly.
"It's not important."
"That's never true."
She looks up at me then, eyes sparkling with something that feels a little too intentional.
"You'll see," she says.
Riley exhales quietly, shaking her head like she's given up before the conversation even started.
I stare at Jess for a second longer, trying to figure out what that means, what she's planning, what she's not saying-
and then I stop.
Because whatever it is, it can wait.
For now, the road stretches out in front of us, endless and sunlit, the city we're heading toward still hours away but already pulling at something inside me.
And for the first time since all of this started-
it doesn't feel like I'm being pulled somewhere I didn't choose.
It feels like I'm exactly where I want to be.
Even if I'm not ready to admit why just yet.