Chapter Seventeen
Seventeen
Wyoming boasted the most beautiful scenery we’d witnessed so far, which was the perfect excuse to avoid looking at Dex.
Phoebe remained wobbly in the morning, but by the afternoon she’d downed four slices of peanut butter toast and loudly complained about how gross Pedialyte was, so we felt okay piling into the car for the long drive to Idaho.
I’d spent a solid five minutes in front of the bathroom mirror, debating the patheticism of another few hours pretending to sleep in the back seat and decided against it.
The color had returned to Phoebe’s face, her mood bright and cheery, and I refused to put a damper on it.
I contributed to the conversation like everything was just peachy, and I pointedly avoided looking at Dex.
He didn’t look at me either. His attention had become a solid, physical thing. I felt it as if it were a heavy pressure bearing down on my shoulders and now that it was missing, I had to walk carefully as to not drift away in the wind.
“We should make this an annual trip,” Phoebe said about an hour down Interstate 80. I turned fully in my seat, fixing her with an incredulous look. “Not going to see Catalina. I just mean the trip in general. We should travel more.”
“On Dex’s dime,” I said.
She beamed. “Exactly.”
“It’s a nice thought,” Dex said. “But I’m never driving again after this, so you’re out of luck.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re so annoying. I’ve offered to drive a million times.”
He grumbled something unintelligible under his breath. Phoebe popped up through the center console and said, “He doesn’t trust you with the Benz.”
“I don’t give a shit about the car,” he muttered.
“Says the guy who vacuums it every morning,” I said.
Phoebe looked around, eyes widening. “Oh my god. You do?”
“No,” Dex said through gritted teeth.
She slapped her hand down on the console. “You’re a freak!”
“That’s not very nice, Phoebe,” I said diplomatically. “It could be a sickness.”
“Fuck off,” Dex snapped. “You two are the messiest people I’ve ever met. You eat an apple and produce crumbs. I don’t know how you do it.”
“It’s a gift,” Phoebe said. “Also, I like cinnamon sugar on my apples. I can’t eat them any other way.”
“Except Honeycrisp.” I glanced at her and her eyes lit up. “You love Honeycrisp apples.”
“I do love Honeycrisp apples.” She sighed wistfully. “Our grocery store never has them. They have Red Delicious. Who likes Red Delicious?” She paused, taking a moment to regard Dex suspiciously. “I bet you do.”
“That,” he said, “is the worst thing you’ve ever said to me.”
She threw her head back, laughing. “And I say a lot of terrible things to you.”
In my periphery, I watched him adjust his grip on the wheel and I did not think about what those hands did last night. “The grocery store near my place has Honeycrisp apples,” he mentioned. “I’ll bring you some.”
I spun in my seat to look at him for the first time since last night: his stubble more pronounced than I’d ever seen it, the shadows under his eyes revealing he got about as much sleep as I did.
He was making plans to see us when this was over, as if things wouldn’t be irreversibly different.
If all went well with Catalina, he might not even come back to Boston.
The thought turned my stomach over. I sank in my seat, breathing hard to steady my spinning mind.
“Can we…” I swallowed over a dry patch in my throat. “Can we stop? For a second.”
The weight of Dex’s eyes returned and I hated the relief of it. “Are you okay?” Dex asked sharply. Phoebe’s clammy hand clamped over my forehead.
“She’s warm,” she confirmed. I batted her hand away. “Oh man. Did I do this? Is food poisoning contagious?”
“I’m not sick. I just need to stop for a sec.”
Dex took the next exit to the closest gas station. Once parked, I pushed the door open and ducked my head against the warm wind, letting fresh air fill my lungs. Phoebe’s jelly sandals appeared in my vision and when I lifted my head, I was met by concern etched in her features.
“I’m okay,” I assured her. She shifted her weight, giving the parking lot a scan.
“There are a bunch of bushes if you have to puke. I wouldn’t do it in the bathroom.”
“I’m not going to puke.” I was pretty sure. “But thanks, Bee.”
Dex got out of the car to join her, giving her shoulder a squeeze. “Here,” he said, offering her some cash. “Grab some water, Dramamine, and a granola bar.”
Phoebe nodded, seeming relieved to have a task, and darted for the entrance. I shut my eyes, the dizziness setting in as the weight of Dex’s gaze returned.
“Vi,” he said quietly.
“It’s okay. I’m okay.” I rubbed the space between my brows and then dropped my hand, finally meeting his eyes. He squatted in front of me, too close, and words tumbled out before I could help it. “I’m sorry about last night.”
His expression shuttered slightly. “You’re sorry.”
“I heard you when you said it’s better for us to not…
whatever. But I keep…” I blew out a frustrated breath.
“I don’t want things to be weird between us.
I don’t want to not talk to you. But I also don’t want to keep getting caught up like we did last night when that’s not what you want.
You must realize I have feelings for you.
It’s not fair. Rip off the Band-Aid. I promise I can take it. ”
He studied my face for a long moment. “You think I don’t want you?”
“I…” I furrowed my brow. “I touched you and you left, Dex.”
“You touched me and I came.”
Heat ripped up my neck. “That’s—” I huffed out a breath, dizzy for an entirely new reason. “You’re confusing me.”
He scrubbed a hand down his face. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting this.”
“This,” I echoed softly. I wasn’t expecting you, he meant. His eyes searched mine, his conflict so obvious, it felt like a living thing screaming between us.
“I’m trying so hard to focus on what I need to do while what I want is getting louder. And then that goddamn letter,” he said, his voice rough. “What am I supposed to do, Vi?”
The wind whispered Catalina’s name, her presence haunting from miles away. The way Dex looked at me made the idea of him being hung up on her almost silly, but his insistence that we keep our distance said otherwise. I wanted to believe he was in this. I couldn’t trust my optimistic heart.
“I don’t know,” I whispered. His throat bobbed and his finger brushed my bare shin. It landed like a punch. “So, we… yeah. All settled?”
Another brush, this time his knuckle scorching a circle into the side of my knee. “I have no idea what I’m doing here,” he murmured. “I look at you and I can’t get a hold of myself.”
“Oh.” I swallowed hard, watching his knuckle drag up the skin of my thigh and back down again. “Well. Maybe we give in, just once. We get it out of our system and…” Eyes locked, he shook his head before the full thought left my lips. “No, yeah. Bad idea.”
“That’s not something I can do,” he said. “Once.”
I inhaled sharply. His eyes dipped to my mouth. I remembered what it was like to kiss him, how the world crashed to a halt to accommodate the moment, how it felt deeper than fucking anyone else.
I caught a glimpse of something pink over his shoulder and recoiled, my foot jabbing him in the ribs. “Phoebe!” I exclaimed as he doubled over in a groan. Phoebe approached, eyes narrow as she took us in. “I may have incapacitated Dex. Accidentally.”
“Okay,” she said, sliding her gaze between us. He stood up, rubbing his side. “You good, man?”
“Did you get everything?”
She held a plastic bag aloft. “Yup. I also got Gatorade, ’cause I thought you might be dehydrated,” she said, moving toward me. “And some donuts in case your blood sugar’s low. I don’t know if that’s a thing if you’re not diabetic, but I was covering the bases.”
“Thanks, Bee,” I said, my bruised heart melting into a puddle in my chest. She handed me the Gatorade. It was the lemonade flavor she always made fun of me for getting because it looked like pee.
Phoebe swiveled to Dex, pulling a pair of neon green plastic sunglasses out of the bag. “Here you go.”
He stared at them. “What is that.”
“Your new sunglasses.” She moved up on her toes to slip them on him, biting back a grin. “Wow. You look cool.”
He turned his gaze to me, a glare from the sun bouncing off the neon frame.
“Gorgeous,” I said.
His jaw flexed. “We ready?” He rounded the front of the car without waiting for an answer.
“Good call on the sunglasses,” I said, shooting Phoebe a smile.
She eyed me for a moment and for a split second, a spike of anxiety drilled its way behind my ribs, certain she’d figured out my feelings for Dex.
But then her face softened into a smile and she produced two more pairs from the bag, neon purple and neon pink.
Somehow, Wyoming looked even better through a lilac hue.