Chapter 17 #3
The heat’s rising in my chest and coloring my cheeks, and I want to cover my face with my hands to break eye contact.
But I can’t. I don’t know how to describe locking eyes with him, but it feels private.
Like being held. Or touched. “I would love a do-over right about now,” I whisper, because we’re in the bubble of my embarrassment and volume doesn’t seem possible or permissible.
“I am so sorry. That was beyond inappropriate.”
The shake of his head is so minute that if anyone else is watching, they wouldn’t see it.
He hasn’t blinked, and it only intensifies the hold he has on me.
I can’t look away and find myself leaning in like I’m being pulled there, as he whispers, “Soph, what you just said will live rent-fucking-free in my head. Don’t you dare apologize. ”
I press my hands to my chest like I can slow my racing heart. “Fuck,” I mouth the word, take a deep breath, and close my eyes.
When I open them, he’s still staring.
The RV door opens and slams shut, and Hannah emerges dressed in a beachy sundress and sandals. Coupled with her blonde waves and tanned skin, she looks like she should be walking in the sand along the coast of Australia, not a rundown campground in Georgia.
“Good morning, loves. Did you sleep all right?” she asks, breezily.
“Morning,” Ever and I reply. Followed by nods from both of us. “You?” I ask.
“Had trouble getting to sleep with the heat, but once I finally got there, I slept like the dead.” Hannah’s eyes linger longingly on my coffee cup on the table. “Where’d you get the coffee? I’d kill for some caffeine.”
I point her in the direction, and she takes off like she’s in search of treasure.
“I like Hannah,” I say as she walks away. “But I do have issues with her timing.”
He chuckles low. “It’s fuckin’ shit.”
I laugh too because this has obviously become an inside joke. “Have you known her long?”
Ever mimics reading an imaginary wristwatch. “How long have we been here?”
I shake my head but smile. “You’ve known her longer than that. You knew her that night in Denver.”
He reaches out and slides my empty coffee cup in front of him and begins peeling the label off. “I was introduced to her two minutes before we went on stage that night. So, I’ve known her about an hour longer than I’ve known you.”
“Really?” I’m shocked. “You probably don’t remember, but when I was talking to you that night, she interrupted us. I totally thought you two were together.”
His head tilts, but his eyes are still focused on the cup in his hands. “Oh, I remember. What did we just say about shit timing?”
“Fuckin’ shit,” I correct, and he smiles. “It’s one of the reasons I left so fast.”
“I thought it was past your bedtime?” he teases as his eyes meet mine.
Surprised, but also pleased he remembered, I nod.
“It was. I’m a sixty-four-year-old trapped inside a thirty-four-year-old body.
Mornings are my jam. Also, my sister was wasted and waiting for me out front, and I didn’t want her to get abducted or voluntarily jump on one of those pub crawl pedal bikes with a random bachelorette party because they offered a Maid of Dishonor sash and a shot of sambuca. ”
“That’s something Jess would do. We still have weeks to go; you’ll see. And I feel ninety, so I’ve got you beat by a mile.”
We work for another thirty minutes. Ever loves the photos I chose and gives me their passwords for social media platforms so I can post them.
I write the captions because everything he comes up with is too modest. I get it.
I always avoid captions myself because they seem braggy.
But writing them for Thicker Than Water is fun because it’s hyping them up.
When he gives me permission to post anytime, I feel like I’ve passed a test or been accepted into a secret society.
We also find a website to buy custom T-shirts and hats and place a small rush order to be delivered to the bar they play in a few days.
After Ever thanks me for the third time, he heads to their van to grab his things so he can shower. I watch him go and am thankful to have made a friend here so fast. Everything feels easier with him.
When I re-enter the RV, I do so as quietly as I can, so I don’t wake Ben if he’s sleeping. He’s not. I can hear him talking in the back. He must be on his phone.
“Just wanted to make sure you’ll be around next Friday.
I’m playing at the Grizzly Den and thought maybe we could get together before or after.
” He’s quiet for a few seconds but then answers, “Yeah, I wish I had more time too. It’s been a while.
” He emerges from the bedroom, head down and a soft smile on his face.
He’s listening and then says, “Sounds good. See you soon.” Ending the call, he slips the cell in his back pocket and looks up to see me standing in front of my bunk. “Mornin’, Sophie. How’d you sleep?”
“Great, actually. I’ve never slept in an RV, but it was surprisingly cozy.”
He nods in agreement. “I’ve been touring for ten years and slept in everything from the backseat of a Buick to a sleeping bag on the floor of a fan’s living room. This is plush.”
He pulls the curtain aside on the door and glances out. “You know where Hannah got off to?”
“She went to grab some coffee.” I look out the window I’m standing next to, and as if on cue, she and Jesse round the bend at the end of the road walking this way. “Here she comes.”
He’s nodding as he lets the curtain slide back into place. “Good. We need to get going.”
Why does he sound so irritated? Don’t tell me there’s trouble in paradise already.