20. Nicole
Chapter twenty
Nicole
W e’ve been driving for a few hours when I see a billboard and shoot up in my seat.
“Buc-ee’s!” I shout. “We have to stop!”
“What?” Adam looks at me incredulously. “We have to stop where ?”
“Buc-ee’s,” I say again. “I didn’t realize they had them here!”
“What is Buc-ee’s?”
“It’s the best! It’s got huge bathrooms and food and a cute store and cheap gas.”
“So, like a gas station?”
“Well, technically, but it’s so much more than that. They’re from Texas. We used to stop at them all the time when we’d drive to visit my grandma in Houston. We could stop there for lunch!”
“A gas station for lunch?” Adam sounds doubtful .
“You’ll see. Do you trust me?”
He glances sideways at me, and I try to look as earnest as possible. He sighs.
“Fine. Where is it?”
“The billboard said it’s still about twenty miles up the highway. Oooh, I’m so excited! You won’t regret it, Adam, I promise!”
Even as I say this and see Adam smiling and shaking his head at me, I start to second guess. Will Adam like Buc-ee’s? It’s very Texan—big and crowded and loud. It can be overwhelming. Does he like barbecue? I know he tries to eat healthy, so his options may be limited at a super travel center known for its brisket sandwiches, fudge, and sugary “beaver nugget” corn snacks. We’re getting closer; I just saw another billboard advertising the Buc-ee’s exit five miles away.
“Um, actually, Adam, we don’t need to stop at Buc-ee’s if you don’t want to,” I offer tentatively.
Adam’s eyebrows pull together, and he glances over at me. “Why not? You were so excited.”
“I was, but I don’t know. I’m probably being silly. It’s just a gas station.” Even as I say it, I think about the gasps such a statement would elicit from my Texas family and friends. I silently apologize to Buc-ee the Beaver for disparaging his establishment.
Adam reaches over as if to place his hand on top of mine, but then hesitates and pulls back.
“No way,” he says emphatically. “You got me all excited. I have to see this now. I need to experience this Buc-ee’s place for myself. I’m intrigued. ”
I hesitate. “I think you’re just being nice.”
“Nicole, honestly, I’ve never seen someone get that excited about a gas station. I need to know why.”
I smile, feeling the buildup of excitement again. “Okay!” I clap my hands. “But we have to take a picture with Buc-ee.”
“Uh, okay, we can do that.” Adam merges over to the far-right lane. “This is the exit up ahead. Hopefully there will be signs saying which way to turn.”
“You won’t need a sign,” I say.
Adam follows the exit off the highway and before he can ask what I mean, he can see for himself. Sprawling off to the right is a large building surrounded by dozens of fuel pumps. A line of cars and trucks stretch from the parking lot, down the street, and out to the main road where vehicles, including ours, wait to turn left into the travel center.
His hands resting on the steering wheel, Adam looks at the gas station, then at me. “What is this place? Are we getting gas or going to Disney World?”
“It’s the Disney World of gas stations,” I answer with a laugh. Adam looks incredulous, and maybe a bit concerned, but I’m done worrying about it. I’m all-in now.
We finally park and make our way to the front entrance. I point to the gleaming bronze statue of a five-foot tall beaver wearing a T-shirt and ball cap, its cartoonish mouth wide open to reveal two buckteeth.
“Picture time!” I remind Adam .
Adam shakes his head and chuckles, still looking a bit stunned. He cooperatively moves to one side of Buc-ee while I stand on the other. I lift my phone and capture a selfie.
As we step away from the statue, a mom pushes four small children in our place and shouts “Smile!”
I walk through the automatic doors, Adam trailing close behind me, passing rows of fire pits and foldable lawn chairs. We enter the second set of doors, and I’m hit by several sensations all at once. I smell the barbecue and candied nuts right away. I hear the din of voices from the dozens of people walking around the huge store, and then, loudly, “Fresh brisket on the board!” Finally, I see shelves and racks lined with kitschy merchandise. Some of it features the cartoon face of Buc-ee the Beaver, while some are pieces of folksy home decor and accessories.
I feel a heavy hand on my shoulder and turn to see Adam’s wide eyes taking it all in. “Seriously, Nicole,” he says. “What is this place?”
I laugh but don’t answer him. “Restrooms are that way,” I say after spotting the sign. “I’ll see you at the meat counter after.”
A few minutes later, I find Adam watching the workers cut up the large slabs of beef brisket.
“Hey,” I say as I sidle up next to him.
“Hey,” he responds. “Those bathrooms were…”
I laugh. “I know. Not like other gas station bathrooms you’ve been to, huh?”
He shakes his head. “Actually, as a rule, I don’t stop at gas station bathrooms. Don’t trust them. But here … it was so clean. So many stalls. So many people.”
He shifts his focus back to the meat counter. “What do you recommend?”
“Sliced brisket sandwich, for sure. I mean, the chopped is fine, but I think the ratio of meat to sauce works better on the sliced.”
“Sliced it is.” Adam picks up two wrapped brisket sandwiches from the warming tray and hands one to me.
“Let’s get a basket,” I say.
We step around a few groups of people, and I see a stack of shopping baskets near a rack of chips. I take one for myself, placing my sandwich gently inside, and then hand another to Adam.
“There are a few more snacks I want to find,” I tell him. “Why don’t you look around and I’ll meet you at the register near where we came in?”
He shrugs. “Sounds good.”
I get to the registers just as Adam is unloading his basket to cash out.
“How much are you buying?” I exclaim when I see the pile of food and merchandise in front of him.
He reaches up and rubs the back of his neck with his hand. “I don’t know. Just what I needed. This place is amazing.”
I grin as he sets a black T-shirt adorned with the cartoonish face of Buc-ee the Beaver on the counter. He adds fudge, chips, and beef jerky to the stack. The next item really catches my attention.
“What are those?” I squeal gleefully .
Adam holds up the bag and shakes it. “Sour gummy worms,” he says with a shrug.
“I figured you’d pick something practical and nutritious,” I tease.
Adam scoffs, “This is a road trip, Nicole. Now is not the time for healthy snacks.”
“So much for your rules.” I nudge him with my elbow and grin.
“I’m following road trip rules,” he says sensibly. “Normal-life rules don’t apply on the road.” He winks.
Oh my gosh. I feel like a character in one of those old sitcoms when I suddenly want to chime, “Who are you, and what have you done with Adam?” But I can’t stop grinning. This is fun. Adam is fun.
Adam fills up the gas tank while I sit in the passenger seat and inhale my sandwich. So good. Oh, Buc-ee’s sliced brisket, I’ve missed you.
Adam is still finishing up at the pump, so I get out and circle the car toward him.
“Do you want me to drive for a while?”
Adam rests the nozzle back in its holster and closes the gas flap on his car. Then, he lifts his head and squints toward me, shading his eyes with his hand to avoid the glare from the sun behind my head.
“You don’t have to,” he says.
“I know, but you haven’t eaten yet. I could drive a bit while you eat your lunch.” Adam hesitates, so I rush to add, “I mean, if you’re comfortable with someone else … with me driving your car. It’s fine if you’re not.”
“You know, that would be great,” Adam says with a smile. “I could use a break from driving for a while.”
He ducks around the back of the car toward the passenger side while I slide into the driver’s seat. I adjust the seat and mirrors before turning the key that’s already in the ignition. Before shifting out of park, I reach for my bag of white cheddar nuggees, pop it open, and set it on the center console for easy access. Nuggees are Buc-ee’s brand of cheese puffs, except the pieces are smaller, so they maybe fall somewhere between a cheese ball and a cheese puff. Anyway, the white cheddar ones are my favorite.
We’re pulling back onto the highway when Adam unwraps his sandwich and takes a bite. I glance at him quickly before shifting my eyes back to the road.
“Well?” I ask.
Adam moans through a mouthful of beef and sauce. He takes a minute to chew and swallow and then answers me. “This is delicious. Seriously. We’re definitely stopping at Buc-ee’s again on the way home.”
“I have zero problems with that,” I respond, my heart squeezing in my chest. I don’t know why, but Adam’s newfound enthusiasm for Buc-ee’s makes me ridiculously happy. It’s early yet on this trip, but I already feel like Adam and I are cementing our friendship—learning more about each other, establishing shared experiences, exploring how we get along outside of work .
I’ve had a difficult time making friends since I graduated from college. For a while there, I was fully focused on my master’s program and my disintegrating relationship with Steven. Then, I moved to a different state, and while I’ve tried to put myself out there to meet people other than the ones I work with, it’s been hard to connect with anyone. Tasha is great to talk to while we’re working, but she’s a student and my sense of propriety tells me it’s not okay to hang out with her and her other student friends at college parties. Not that college parties sound fun to me, anyway. My blossoming friendship with Ashley feels promising, but she’s also busy planning her wedding. I have my sisters, of course, but we’re so spread out now.
I’m excited I get to see Molly this weekend; it’s a nice coincidence that the conference is being held where she lives. It can be hard to pry her out of her lab, even on weekends, so I’m grateful she can make time for me. She’s coming to our presentation on Sunday, and then we’re going out to dinner together.
I’m lost in thought as I drive. I glance to the passenger seat and see that Adam has fallen asleep, the back of his head leaning against the headrest and his mouth hanging open slightly. A sense of contentment washes over me, and I smile.
Getting to know Adam has been unexpected. Before we started working on the graphic novel project together, when I thought of him, if I thought of him at all, I assumed he was socially awkward and serious. Now, I’m starting to think that there are two Adams: Work Adam and Fun Adam. Whenever we’ve interacted outside of the library, he’s been thoughtful and funny. Who knew he was funny? And interesting. His hobbies are different from mine, but are similarly centered around learning, similarly nerdy.
Just then, a pickup truck in the lane to the left of me catches my attention in the side mirror. It’s zooming up quickly and as it pulls up alongside me, it’s forced to slow down to avoid the car in front of it. I slow Adam’s car as well, keeping an eye on the truck. I notice the bed is loaded down with stuff—random tools and scrap metal—and the tailgate is down. The truck speeds up and then hits the brakes, slowing long enough to allow some space to build up between it and the car in front of it. Then, it speeds up again to erase the space, braking again just before reaching the front car. It does this several more times, and I slow down even more, trying to stay far enough back to avoid the drama.
Suddenly, the truck jerks to the right, jumping in front of me and hitting the gas to speed forward. A piece of scrap metal tumbles out of the truck bed so quickly that I don’t register it right away. It hits the road right in front of me and without thinking, I swerve to avoid it, but I’m too late; my reflexes are too slow. A loud THA-WUMP sounds as I run over the scrap metal. I hold my breath, and for a few seconds, nothing happens. Maybe the tire is fine. Then, I hear the wub-wub-wub noise of a flat tire hitting the road, and I know I didn’t get lucky. The steering wheel vibrates, and I strain my arm muscles steering the car onto the shoulder.
At some point, Adam jolted up in his seat, and now he’s regarding me with wide eyes. My hands shake and adrenaline takes over.