With Fun.’s “We Are Young” blasting out of the car stereo, I’m zooming down the road that stretches straight and wide toward the horizon, my hands resting lightly on the steering wheel and cruise control set to eighty miles per hour.
The landscape has changed from dirt with patches of green to an agricultural one. Farmland surrounds us on both sides, some with crops and others with rows and rows of fruit trees. Much of the land lies fallow, probably victims of the prolonged and persistent drought. A little ways back we passed a dry and brown barb-wired field with a homemade sign saying, “Stop the Congress created dust bowl.”
Taking the 5 up through Central California is about as thrilling as waiting in line at the post office.
I’m singing along to the lyrics as best I can, tapping my fingers on the steering wheel and bopping my head to the beat. It’s my only entertainment, because next to me Jay is wearing earbuds while he’s doing something on his phone. He’s using an app that I don’t recognize, and even though I keep trying to catch a glimpse of it, the glare on his screen makes it unreadable.
So instead I get to enjoy the view. Some people look best from the front and others in profile. Jay doesn’t have a good side. He’s gorgeous from all directions. I could do a dissertation on the perfection that is the shape of his jawline alone. Could compose an ode to his broad, solid shoulders. Write a novel about his hands and what he can do with them.
Feeling flushed, I crank the AC up a couple of notches before shifting in my seat, arching and stretching my back for a second. My patience with driving is already wearing thin, even though I haven’t been behind the wheel for a full hour yet. We stopped and ate unhealthy and not particularly good fast food for lunch, since there are few other options on this trip. But pouring enough hot sauce on it can make even the blandest taco palatable.
And that right there is actually a great metaphor for life, isn’t it?
Is that what I was doing when I decided to give Jay a blow job earlier—spicing up an otherwise tedious road trip? I’m not entirely sure why that happened. It’s like there are these little devils living inside me, and usually they’re asleep, but sometimes they spring to life and hijack my brain.
You’ve never been arrested…it’s not a joke.
That statement of his had sounded like he spoke from personal experience. As soon as I absorbed and processed what he’d actually said, the words gave me a jolt, leaving me taken aback and confused. But then he didn’t elaborate, and his explanation made sense. So I let it go, because the idea of Jay committing a crime and getting arrested is downright outlandish.
There’s still a nagging voice at the back of my mind, though. What if he wasn’t always the Jay I know now, the guy who always plays by the rules and is never tempted to make the wrong choice? For the first time since I started considering him my best friend, I’m asking myself if I know him as well as I think I do. And I don’t like that I don’t know the answer.
You might want to consider if it’s time to start acting like a grown-up.
See, I thought I’d been doing a pretty good job of being an adult. But maybe not. Maybe he’s right—although I could see in his eyes that he immediately regretted saying it.
Which doesn’t mean it’s not true.
I refuse to take all the blame, though. It’s not like I got in the car this morning with a plan to at some point go down on Jay while he was driving. But his poorly disguised reactions made telling him about last night’s party too much fun, and the way he went from stunned to intrigued to turned on with such obvious lack of self-control made me kind of giddy. And bold, apparently.
It was Matt who opened my eyes to how powerful a blow job can make you feel—how in control you are, totally in charge while the guy is at his most exposed and defenseless. And ever since, I’ve appreciated the rush and the satisfaction of giving another person that much pleasure.
It makes me sick to my stomach to think of everything I gave Matt Nolan of myself, though. I’d give just about anything to take it all back. Maybe I’m flattering myself to consider that he might still think about me sometimes, but the possibility is there, and I hate that he has those memories. I don’t want to be responsible for giving him even a second of happiness. He doesn’t deserve it.
It’s different with Jay. First of all, because I know him so well. Six years of friendship means I’ve seen him at his worst as well as his best. There’s no pretense between us, and trusting him is easy. No, he’s not my boyfriend. We’re not a couple. We just are. Being ourselves, enjoying each other’s company. I’m not much for labels, anyway.
I could do without all of his rules, though. And if he could chill and stop getting mad at me about stupid shit, that’d be great, too.
A sudden fear stabs me, worry that I forgot Grandma’s present. But then I distinctly remember putting the small, gift-wrapped package in my suitcase. While I’m breathing a sigh of relief, I notice Jay’s movements from the corner of my eye. He’s tugging out his earbuds and switching off his phone, reaching up to rub his eyes. It stopped raining while we sat in that dirty little fast-food place eating our stale and cold tacos, but gray clouds still hang like a blanket above us, hiding the sky and the sun.
Lifting his arm, Jay checks the time on his watch, even though just seconds ago he was using his phone. Which would’ve told him the time. Sheesh.
“What were you doing on your phone?” I ask.
“It’s a language learning app.”
Oh-kay. That doesn’t exactly satisfy my curiosity. “You’re learning another language? Which one?”
“French.”
And that’s all he says. Which forces me to interrogate him some more. “Why?”
I look at him. He shrugs. “It’ll be useful when I go to work with Uncle Warren.”
Right. Duh.
My gut starts churning. I’m not sure why.
You’re full of shit, Mia Waters.
I know exactly why it’s as if a sinkhole has opened inside me. Who am I kidding? I’m going to miss him.
It’s too glib and simplistic, that thought: I’m going to miss him. It doesn’t contain enough words to describe what it’ll be like to have Jay live on the other side of the world and to have no idea when he’s coming back. Just contemplating it, I already feel like a piece of me is missing.
From the day he told me, I’ve accepted that this is what he’s doing with his life because he’s always seemed so sure about it. And when a person you care about is that determined, that focused on a goal, you’d be a jerk to try and change his mind.
Or so I’ve thought. But maybe not? Would it really hurt to ask?
“You’re still doing that?” The question pops out of my mouth before I consciously decide to do it.
Jay watches me with a hint of a frown. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I don’t know.” It’s kind of a struggle to sound casual. “We haven’t talked about it for a while, so I thought maybe you’d changed your mind. People do that.”
“Yeah,” he says slowly. “I haven’t, though.”
“Okay.” With a sinking sensation in my chest, I look away from his piercing scrutiny. It’s on the tip of my tongue to prod him some more. To point out that he doesn’t have to travel to the other side of the planet to find people who need his help.
But I’m pretty sure all that will accomplish is make him defensive and annoyed. So it’s better not to rock the boat.
Better to just live in the moment. To appreciate that for now he’s still here, that he’s my friend and my lover, and that we’re both okay with that.
At least, I think we are. I mean, there’s no reason we wouldn’t be…is there?