Charlie
Nixon smiled. He danced. He laughed.
Mission completed.
But then the song ended and his phone buzzed again. Within two seconds, everything I’d achieved was flushed down the toilet by one simple text.
I have no idea what it said, but it made his lips press together and he gave me this sad smile before grabbing his bag.
“I gotta go back down and check the whole flight status thing.”
Then he just walked off without so much as a “See ya later.”
Very rude.
Very un-Nixon.
I grabbed my stuff and raced after him.
When I caught up, he kind of flinched and forced a tight smile.
Shit. I wanted to turn back time.
I never could, and hell, even if I were able to…would I choose to play it differently?
I’d walked away because that was what he needed me to do.
He may not have realized it at the time, but I’d been convinced.
And look at him four years later, going off to law school and doing great…the way he deserved to be.
But I couldn’t shake that horrible, ugly feeling in my chest. The one that reminded me of how much I’d lost…and how I’d probably hurt him.
I wanted to make it up to him. Try to somehow amend the damage I’d done, so that even if we never saw each other again, his final memories of me would be good…happy.
We got to the line, only to find it had grown.
Nixon swore under his breath, scratching the back of his head and glancing down at his phone.
I was tempted to look over his arm and see what he was typing, but I didn’t want to cross that line. It was no doubt his parents hassling him for not being where he should be, and that would only piss me off.
Frickin’ control freaks!
I clenched my jaw as a flash of hate fire burned through my chest. But then it was stolen by the logic that had driven me away in the first place. It reminded me that even though they pissed me off, they always had Nixon at the front of their minds. They wanted what was best for him.
And I’d let them win because maybe they were right.
My idea of happiness was different from theirs.
Confusion made my face bunch as the war I’d been waging for years swelled up inside me again.
“Shit.” Nixon breathed the word as he slid the phone into his pocket. “Come on, snow. Melt already.”
I studied his expression and saw the telltale signs of pressure. I always hated that look on his face. It didn’t suit him, and it wasn’t half as beautiful as those carefree smiles.
I wanted to help, make it all better for him. Touching his arm, I ignored the way he flinched and gave him a light squeeze before dropping my hand.
“You need to get home, don’t you?”
“Yeah.” He sighed. “But I’m stuck, and I can’t give her a definitive answer of when I’ll be back.”
His mother had always been a stickler for timing. She worried too much.
I tried to remind myself why she was inclined to act that way. After what happened to Reagan, she’d poured every ounce of her love and devotion into her husband and son. She’d never survive losing her golden boy.
I worked my jaw to the side and thought about the woman with her dark brown hair, always styled in a sleek bob. Her manicured nails—always French, never color. Her brown eyes that used to study me like I was some kind of biohazard that would destroy her only child’s life. I was dangerous.
Probably because I reminded her of Reagan.
I was basically the only thing Nixon ever disobeyed them on. Not that they outright forbid him to see me. They wouldn’t want to get their precious son off-side.
My mind flashed with a memory I hadn’t dredged up in years. Mr. Holloway’s steely voice, the determination on his face, the bright warning that told me I had no chance of getting what I wanted.
I shuddered and shoved it back where it belonged—in the pile of I can’t spend any more time thinking about that!
Whether I wanted to turn back time or not, I couldn’t.
But I could do something about the present. I was standing next to the only person I’d ever considered a best friend. He was upset, and I wanted to take that pressure off his shoulders.
My mind hummed with different ideas, things he could say to appease his mother, but I kept coming back to the first thought that popped into my mind…
Road trip.
Sounded crazy, but it had a lot going for it. One, it’d get Nixon on the move, heading home to LA just the way mother dearest wanted. Secondly, it’d give me a chance to spend a little more time with him…a chance to make up for what I’d done. A chance to leave behind a better memory.
Nibbling my lip, I looked down at my purple boots while doubts tried to yank the idea from my mind.
But…screw it.
I wanted a freaking road trip with my best friend!
Puffing out a breath, I glanced at Nixon and blurted, “You know you could always drive home.”
He shot me an incredulous look. “Drive? That’ll take a week!”
“Well, not if you drive really long days. I can be your buddy, and we could take turns. I’m confident we can punch it out in four days flat.”
“By then I could have flown home.”
“True.” I raised my finger. “But it’ll be way funner. Because road trips are always fun. And then you can tell—” I pointed at the phone. “—that you’re doing everything in your power to get home. That’ll work like a charm. You know it will.” I leaned into his side with my best smile. “And come on, Nix. Do you seriously want to spend the next couple of days at the airport while you wait for the weather to clear?”
I spread my arms wide and indicated the overloaded seats piled with luggage and grumpy travelers.
His expression was droll and adorable. “You want to rent a car?”
“That’s what I’m saying.” I nodded. “It’s got to be better than hard plastic chairs or a dirty airport floor.”
His eyebrows dipped but he didn’t say anything, so I kept on with the sell.
“Look, if your mom gets antsy about the new plan, we can drop off the car halfway home and fly from there. Seriously, it’s no big deal. Let’s just play it by ear.”
“Play it by ear,” he muttered. “Yeah, that’s gonna fly.”
“The point is no one is flying anywhere, so let’s drive, baby.” I wiggled my eyebrows and started chanting. “Road trip. Road trip.”