2. Chapter Two
After depositing my duffle and yoga mat in the trunk, I climbed into Grey’s black SUV, setting my navy-blue backpack on the floor next to my feet. I cringed at the wave of heat that greeted me as I settled into my gray pleather seat. The summer heat was already out in full force in Utah County. That was one positive about this trip—Island Park, Idaho would definitely be cooler than Pleasant Grove, Utah. I could already feel sweat beading at my hairline as I buckled my seatbelt and waited for Grey to turn on the AC. The car smelled faintly of fast food, but it was clean and well maintained.
“Road trip, road trip.” Grey settled into the driver’s seat and grinned. “I’ve never been to Island Park. You?”
“A few times. It’s a beautiful area.” I buckled my seatbelt and fisted my hands in my lap, resisting the temptation to throw the door open and run upstairs to the safety of my apartment.
Forget about adventure and escape. I could avoid my problems from my bedroom just as well as in a cabin surrounded by nature. If I stayed, I’d have easy access to restaurants and the internet, not to mention I could hit up some yoga classes at the rec center. I’d just avoid social media, with its photos of Emily and Lyle’s happy day. I could even distract myself with work. The phones were guaranteed to be busy with a recent product launch, and I doubted my team would be sad if I canceled my time off request—
The car rumbled to life, and I flinched as music blasted from the speakers.
“Sorry about that.” Grey turned down the music, backed out of the parking lot, and pulled onto the road. Just like that, my last chance for escape vanished. “I forget how loud my music is sometimes. Though I feel like I should warn you—Tory gave me a heads up about your musical tastes, and I’m not sure how I feel about letting you control the radio.” He quirked an eyebrow, humor lacing his tone.
“What do you mean ‘she warned you’?” An insult to my music could not be ignored.
“She said your tastes are…‘specific.’” He pitched his voice higher on the last word in a poor imitation of Tory. “She didn’t give details. I’m more of a classics man, myself.” He adjusted the volume, bringing the music back to a blaring level.
I listened to the music pounding out of his speakers, recognizing the melody. “Motley Crüe is fine. Though personally I prefer Supertramp. Their sound is more my style.”
“You know classic rock?” Grey fiddled with the volume again, making it so I didn’t have to yell to be heard over the bass.
“What? Girls can’t like classic rock?” I shrugged, trying not to laugh at the shocked expression on Grey’s face. I’d gotten that reaction more than once from men when they learned what I liked to listen to.
“Based on Tory’s description, I thought you’d be into some new age, Indie meditation stuff, not classic rock.” Grey shrugged, his eyebrows pinched as he tried to process this new information.
“Tory has teased me about my music tastes since the day we met. Something about quiet people having secretly loud passions,” I said, humor lacing my tone as I thought back to my second year in college when I’d been randomly assigned Tory as a roommate. Little had I known she’d turn into one of my best friends, even if she made side comments about my music.
Tory had quickly gotten over those comments when we’d used classic rock dance battles to alleviate stress after long days of work and class. There really was a rock song for every scenario. Rough day at work? “Working for the Weekend” by Loverboy should do the trick. Bad break up? Pat Benatar had your back. Need a good workout beat? AC/DC all the way.
Though I had yet to find the perfect music mix for fixing a broken heart.
As the familiar beat vibrated through the car, I felt my tension ease. I kicked off my flip flops and settled against the headrest, familiar streets passing outside my window soothing me as we headed towards the freeway. I could do this. I could relax and have fun, let go of my worries and be in the moment.
“I should have known Tory was messing with me,” Grey said, turning onto the freeway. “She hates my music choices too. Says I play my music too loud, has since the day she moved in next door.”
I snorted a laugh. “Sounds about right. She hates loud noises. Back in college, I took her with me to a concert once. I’m never making that mistake again, at least not without earplugs for her.”
Thoughts of Tory had me reaching for my phone. But instead of a text from my friend, my phone vibrated with a notification from my office’s messaging system. I read the message, stifling a groan. The question was from Angela, a college student on my team who used me as her answer source instead of the database of approved responses that could be tricky to search. I bit back my annoyance and typed a quick response before switching to my texts and pulling up my conversation thread with Tory.
ME: We’re on our way. Happy birthday! Hope you’re ready to celebrate.
TORY: The celebration has already begun. [winky face emoji] Drive safe. See you soon!
TORY: And don’t murder Grey.
I rolled my eyes. My phone buzzed again, and another message from Angela stared back at me.
ME: I’m on vacation. Ask Drew.
I could answer her questions, but it would be better if she reached out to our supervisor. He had the title and extra pay to deal with Angela and her requests. I just had the technical knowledge and years of experience. Not that it had mattered when they’d interviewed for the supervisor position three months ago, picking Drew with his charm and connection to the owners over me.
You could always quit.
The thought had crossed my mind on more than one occasion of late. After all, working a call center job was hardly my idea of a post-college dream job. One of my yoga instructors had recently mentioned that I’d make a good yoga teacher, and I couldn’t get the idea out of my head. Though getting certified would take time and teaching yoga wasn’t exactly an easy career choice.
Working at the call center was steady and stable. I felt comfortable and needed. Even if they needed me a little too much at times, messaging me when I was off the clock like right now.
ANGELA: He’s not at his desk.
ME: I’m also not at my desk.
ANGELA: But you’re still responding.
I hesitated, biting my lip, before typing my response. I pondered the ramifications of what I wanted to say. While I knew my job was secure and that I was entitled to time off, it was hard to turn off the work part of my brain. I was going on vacation, however begrudgingly. If I answered Angela’s questions now, it wouldn’t be long before the rest of the team would be messaging me. Taking a deep breath, I typed:
ME: Not anymore. I’m off the clock starting now. Talk to Drew.
I hit send and then went into the messaging app settings, silencing my notifications. They still had my phone number if it was a real emergency. I dropped my phone into the backpack at my feet and shifted to stare out the window, clasping my hands together in my lap to resist the urge to pick up my phone and turn my notifications back on.
“I can only imagine what that was like.” Grey’s words pulled me from my thoughts, and it took me a moment to remember our conversation thread: taking Tory to a concert.
“Let’s just say Tory does better in quiet, open spaces like the mountains. She always thought it was funny that I liked such loud music since I’m such a quiet person,” I said, allowing Grey’s comments to distract me from my nerves about being away from work.
“It’s the quiet ones who have the most to hide. I’m too loud for anyone to say that about me.”
“Or quiet people are more observant and know everyone’s secrets.” I quirked an eyebrow and forced humor into my voice, pushing away thoughts of work and doing my best to keep the conversation going.
Grey pursed his lips, thinking for a moment as he tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “Makes sense. What secrets are you hiding?”
I shook my head. “They wouldn’t be secrets if I told you.”
“Fair enough,” Grey shrugged. “Is one of them the reason why you’re already shoeless in my car?”
At that, I did laugh, surprised to find my anxiety dissipating with each mile we drove closer to the cabin. Maybe I really did need a break. “That’s no secret. I hate shoes, and the less I have to wear them, the better.”
There was a reason yoga was my go-to form of stress release. It involved exercise and didn’t require shoes, even if the music lacked a decent beat.
“I bet you kick them off under your desk at work, don’t you?” Grey’s question felt like more of a statement, and I was amazed at how quickly he could read me.
I wiggled my toes, taking in the rough texture of his floor mats. “Guilty as charged. I spend all day sitting at my desk. Why should I torture myself further by wearing shoes?”
We drove for a moment in silence, the familiar businesses and billboards of Utah County slipping past my window as we got closer to the Point of the Mountain. I quickly calculated when we’d arrive at the cabin and breathed a sigh of relief. If we drove straight through and made minimal stops, we’d get there around 5:00, just in time to celebrate the last few hours of Tory’s birthday and well before dark settled in, with its increased risk of hitting wildlife on the road.
As if sensing my plans, Grey spoke, “Do you mind if we stop for lunch? I was going to grab something before picking you up but didn’t want to be even later.”
“I ate before you came, but I guess we can stop. I wouldn’t mind a Pepsi.” I tried not to think about the added time in the car, but hoped a stop now would mean fewer stops later.
“Perfect! I know just the place.” Grey didn’t hesitate before flicking on his blinker and taking the next exit.