18. Seven Inches
SEVEN INCHES
LIAM
Aubrey lays her dress bag over my suit in the backseat.
We haven’t seen much of one another since finals began. Aubrey has tried to get me to stay over a few times, but I’ve stayed strong this far—surprising even myself with my restraint.
I meant what I said about taking the time and figuring out what we both want.
Time for me to figure out what’s holding her back.
I think about Reid’s words weeks ago, about just asking her. To keep asking her.
To keep showing up.
And while I haven’t point-blank questioned her about what she’s hiding—I have been making it a point to be there.
“Hey!” she greets, the snow dusting her coat melting almost instantly as she climbs into the suffocating heat of my car, pulling me out of my own thoughts.
“Sorry, we couldn’t leave earlier this morning with everyone.
My computer crashed during my Anatomy final, and my professor couldn’t find my test,” she explains.
“So I had to retake it this afternoon. I was pissed for having to redo it, but that’s about my luck. ”
“No worries,” I say as we pull out of her condo. “Did Reese and Reid make it okay?” I ask.
Aubrey checks her phone. “Yeah, Reese just texted. She’s having dinner with Reid and her parents. I think she felt bad that he didn’t have anywhere to go for a Thanksgiving dinner.”
My head slowly cranes in Aubrey’s direction. Oh, how I’d love to be a fly on a wall right about now.
“Has he figured out who her dad is yet?” I ask, a mischievous smile pulling at the ends of my lips.
She shakes her head.
He’s going to grill me for not giving him a heads-up. But this way is way more entertaining—at least for me it is. Scott Vaughn is a hockey legend after all.
Aubrey throws her head back in laughter.
Which makes me forget all about Reid and Reese.
I wish it were always this way between us.
Easy. Carefree.
Simple.
Nothing, though, will ever be simple between us.
We’re not that lucky.
The drive is only about a half hour from campus, but because they are calling for nearly eight inches of snow and around four inches have already fallen, it will likely take much longer.
We planned to leave this morning before the snow came along—carpooling with Reese and Reid. But when Aubrey called to say she had to redo her final, I didn’t want her driving alone in this kind of weather.
Aubrey turns the music up, blaring “Sleeping Lessons” through my Jeep’s speakers. I grin, but force my eyes on the road and not on Aubrey because it’s really starting to get slick out here.
In fact, I reach down, put it in 4x4, before I take off again.
“God, I forgot about this song!” I say, turning up the dial to an impossibly loud volume. Aubrey and I share a lot of things, but our taste in music is definitely my favorite.
The car ride quickly turns into a concert, Aubrey and I singing and swaying to the music.
I steal a glance, giving in to a smile as Aubrey sways her head back and forth, her hair a wild tangle around her.
I slow on the interstate, the traffic coming to a standstill, and I make her replay “1901” by Phoenix so I can sing along. We are crooning at the top of our lungs when a loud knock thuds on my Jeep’s window.
Aubrey and I jump. And we both hastily reach for the volume.
The police officer chuckles, dipping his head in greeting. “Interstate is blocked, kids. Big semi-truck accident up ahead. Both lanes are closed. Hope you don’t have anywhere to be tonight.” He says before moving to the next car.
“Shit,” I curse as I see several cars driving along the median as they take the exit up ahead.
I decide to follow suit, taking the exit and pulling into the nearest gas station. I fill up the tank and walk inside, grabbing Aubrey her favorite road trip snacks—an energy drink and Airheads.
She squeaks with excitement. “Pink Slush! My favorite!”
She exclaims it like it’s nothing more than a happy coincidence that I grabbed her favorite flavor.
I hand them over and get back in the Jeep, cursing at the frigid weather. “Well, what should we do?”
She pulls out her phone, GPS-ing both the campus and the cabin address. But then my phone alerts, I pull it from my pocket, and curse when I realize they are calling for an additional five inches.
“We could take a back road, but my GPS says it’ll take two hours,” Aubrey suggests.
I shrug, considering it.
Then, we watch as cars turn off the exit and follow the same route her phone suggests.
Aubrey sighs, “Seems like everyone else is thinking the same thing.”
“We could head back to campus, leave early in the morning when they have the roads cleared,” I propose. But Aubrey shakes her head and shows me her phone. “Interstate is closed both north and southbound.”
“Fuck.” I murmur. “I guess we can wait here until it clears up and the storm passes?”
She moans, throwing her head back. She’s on her phone for a few minutes, and then she points her finger up ahead.
“There is a Comfort Inn that way. I just booked us a room.” She tucks her phone back in her pocket as she waves me to go on.
“Double beds. Before you start to panic, you prude!” Aubrey winks.
I wasn’t even thinking about that. Guess I really am a prude nowadays.
I just don’t want to rush anything with Aubrey.
It’s not because I don’t want to. Because trust me—I DO.
But I’ve been given a second chance, and I want to do this the right way.
I don’t want history to repeat itself.
After navigating traffic and the worsening roads, we pull into the hotel’s parking lot.
Aubrey dials Reese to update her on what’s going on. But her cousin’s phone must be on speaker because Reid yells out, “Hearteater!” We both roll our eyes.
Aubrey starts explaining, “The interstate is closed in both directions. We could take the backroads, but it’s taking two hours, and all the traffic is being routed there. So, we are getting a hotel and leaving early in the morning. Is it snowing there?” she asks.
“Yeah, like crazy up here. Brennan and June are staying at his parents’ house for the night because they got stuck in traffic too.” Reese explains. “There’s already like six inches here.”
“More like seven—I’ve even been told eight,” Reid corrects in the background.
The phone cuts out as Reese clearly scolds Reid.
I chuckle as I hear him curse in the background.
I don’t think Aubrey picks up on what exactly Reid means because she shakes her head, “Yeah, love you lots, Reid, but you clearly need a new tape measure cause there is absolutely no way—maybe six. Maybe?…” She’s looking outside, clearly trying to determine how much snow is covering the ground.
She still stares out the window as she undoes an Airhead wrapper and rips a piece off with her teeth.
Reese laughs so hard, I swear she drops the phone. When a voice booms over Aubrey’s speaker, I know it’s Reid before he even talks. “Aubs baby, if you want to see what seven inches looks like, all you have to do is ask me.”
Aubrey chokes on her Airhead as Reese yells out, “I’m hanging up now! Love you both!” She calls out with a giggle, and the call dies.
Aubrey’s mouth drops open as she swallows, cocking her head. “He wasn’t talking about the snow, was he?”
I snort, shaking my head. “No, Aubrey. He wasn’t.”
She’s quiet for a second, taking a long drag of her drink. I shut the Jeep off, but before we get out, she turns and says, as serious as ever, “Is it really?”
“If I say yes, are you going to take him up on the offer?”
She grins as she considers it, her teeth stained blue from the Airhead. But she eventually shakes her head, “No, cause I’ve got at least six inches here…more than enough to stop traffic.” She winks.
My eyes narrow on her, “You’re not talking about the snow, are you?” I counter, using her own words against her.
“No, Liam. No, I’m not.” Then she gets out and shuts the door behind her.
I curse whoever thought it was a good idea to put two beds in a single room.