18
JOEL
Oh, the privacy of being up high on the road. No one had any idea how I teased Victoria with my fingers and brought her to climax on Highway 101 in the middle of rush hour traffic. It’s a miracle we got to Richmond Recreation Park without incident with the way the RV jerked at Victoria’s reactions to my advances—it was a whole new level of distracted driving. And, in a move I had never undertaken in my thirty-one years of life, we even switched places in the driver’s seat when traffic slowed so she could slip into the bathroom and “freshen up.” Her words, not mine. I kind of liked the glow she was sporting and the lazy look in her eyes. I wished we could have taken a detour for some real alone time.
The sun was already below San Francisco Bay when we pulled into our parking space, the water billowing beyond the RV’s nose. The Suburban’s lights continued down the path to the designated tent camping area.
I step down on the emergency break, still giddy like a teenager, and call behind me. “We’re here.”
Victoria emerges from the bathroom in sweats and a striped blue V-neck T-shirt. Her face is open and relaxed, and her hair is loose and free, begging for my fingers to run through it. She’s already popped out her contacts and is wearing her glasses. “I’m starving.”
“Expended your energy, did you?”
“Maybe.” Her lips lift up into a grin. “Let’s just say I was doing my best to concentrate. Do I look presentable?” She looks down at her body.
Her perfect, sexy body. “I prefer you naked, but yes. You’re always presentable.” I stand and approach her, taking in her scent of detergent and shampoo. She places her hands on my waist. And, man, does my body react instantly to her touch. I’ll soon be on a slippery slope into trouble if I don’t step away. I sigh and kiss her on the nose. “Not sure how I’m going to get to bed tonight, however.”
She looks at me through her lashes. “I have room . . . in my bed”
“Only if you want me there.” I grip the bottom of her chin, chance my willpower, and press my lips on hers.
“I do.”
“Then I’ll be here once everyone falls asleep.”
Her gaze goes to the leveling gauge in one of the cup holders. “Speaking of. The faster we set up . . . It feels like we’re pretty level and won’t need to deal with that mess. Wanna verify and then connect everything up? I’ll make sandwiches for everyone for dinner and meet you outside.”
“Sure.”
Reaching up, she brings her face to mine, kisses me on the lips. “Thank you for the enlightening ride over. I hope I can return the favor tonight.”
I growl at her response, and with one final effort, I pull myself away and head down the stairs, out of the rig.
Damn. Now that I’m outside and by myself and don’t have to pretend to be chill, I can fully grin. How the hell am I going to be able to survive the rest of this trip, when all I want is my hands all over her? How am I going to keep this up? Or the better question might be—how do I not? Kissing her last night opened the floodgates of possibility, and suddenly we went from no longer to hell, yeah. With only six—no, five—days left, it’s too long for a one-night stand, too short to think of the future, which makes all of this slightly precarious.
It’s hard to deny that together we are electric. We have that chemistry I search for when I look through a lens, that kind of unseen, though felt, attraction. Yet my conscience tells me it’s not just physical. I like Victoria. She knows how to get me to talk. We can verbally spar but come back to a thoughtful agreement. She also knows how to get me to think. Our conversation about fate and choice is weighing heavy in my brain, and I wonder if some of the struggles I’ve endured thus far were supposed to happen or if my years of assigning blame have been for naught.
I shake my head free of my heavy thoughts and take in the dimmed campground. It’s shy of 8 p.m. Fires are low, and campers are making the trek to the restrooms for their final bathroom breaks. Some sites already have their outdoor lights turned off. The smell of sugar is in the air, and my stomach growls. My last meal was those nachos, and I’m starved. Peeking over to the tent area, I catch sight of flashlights that may be Adrian and Tara. I’ll need to head there soon to set up my tent.
Coming around the other side of the RV, I pull out all our tubes and connect the sewer and water. When I connect the electricity, the RV’s lights click on a little bit brighter, like it’s gotten a dose of much-needed caffeine. I can’t help it, I put a hand against the RV’s siding. This thing is a beast. From the outside it looks like it can’t make it across the street, much less hundreds of miles through some pretty significant hills. “Thanks for getting us here,” I whisper.
Almost immediately, I feel like a dumbass. I’m talking to a fucking RV. The sappiness must be the effect of blue balls. Though absolutely worth it, there is the possibility that, maybe, my brain has suffered.
I head to the right side of the rig, flip up the storage compartment door, and spread out our camp rug. Victoria had insisted on getting one earlier today; she said it didn’t feel like home unless there was a rug under the awning. The last gas station had a slew for sale—Adrian and I picked the type that looked like Astroturf, much to Victoria’s chagrin.
The first hint of fog mists over the water, and the stars cast a dim light, so I can see a hint of dark undulating waves. It looks like a painting, where the painter’s brush provides the texture, but in this case it’s animated.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I check the caller ID. Seth. My heart quickens when I see my nephew’s name and picture on the screen. I was hoping he’d call. The email he sent me earlier broke my heart despite him saying he’d forgiven me; I want to make up in person or as close to it as possible. When I click on the green button, I don’t waste any time on pleasantries. “Hey bud, what’s shakin’?”
“Hey.” His voice is sweet and crackly like caramel corn, though slightly hesitant.
I plop down into a camp chair. “I got your email.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. And I promise that our trip to Yosemite is going to happen. I swear it, but I just don’t know when. Is that okay?”
“Okay.” A pause. “Where are you now?”
“I’m in this city called Richmond.”
“Where’s that?”
“Remember Oakland? Northeast of it.”
“Oh.” His voice trails, disappointed. “I thought you would be closer to Alford.”
“I should be there in a couple of days. Remember? Tomorrow we go to Berkeley, the next day Gilroy, and then to Alford.”
“I’m sorry I got mad. I just missed talking to you.”
His words squeeze my heart like a sponge. “I miss you, too, bud. Don’t worry. I’ll be home soon, okay? Two more sleeps.”
“Okay. I love you, Uncle Joel.”
“Love you, Seth. And, hey, want me to do a quick panoramic of where I’m at?”
His voice rises through the phone, as if pleased. “Yeah!”
“Okay. I’m hanging up now, then expect a text, all right?”
As soon as I hear the click on the other end, I turn on the video app on my phone and scan a picture of the landscape in front of me. The clouds have passed and now the moonlight is casting a nice glow on the water and the San Rafael Bridge. I say, “This is the San Francisco Bay. And beyond the water is San Francisco. See all those lights? I’ll take you there sometime, too.” I press the button to flip the camera toward me. “Don’t stay up too late, okay?” I wink, then press the red button.
I send the video.
Seth texts back: OK! A slew of emoticons fills up four lines of text. I shake my head at the madness of what this kid knows at eight. Was I this precocious and interested in everything? I think back to when I was his age, when his mom and I were still attached at the hip, when I couldn’t imagine my life without her by my side.
What is Joc up to tonight? Seth, can you give the phone to your mom?
OK.
What’s up, Joc?
I stare at the screen for a few seconds. The dots that normally appear when someone is replying don’t show. I hate texting, how we can’t get away from the expectation of immediate response. I’m already gnawing on my cheek, wondering why she’s not texting me back.
A clack behind me makes me jump, and I stuff the phone into my pocket. Turning, I see Victoria has already made sandwiches.
“Hey.” Every cell in my body wakes in pleasure at the sight of her. If there was ever a time I wanted to take her to bed, it’s now. I’ve seen women dressed in costume, in designer clothes, in uniform, in skimpy bikinis. To me, beauty is when they’re stripped of the extras.
But she doesn’t return my smile. “Here’s some food to bring down to the tents.”
“Oh.” Her request takes me aback. Obviously, I didn’t expect to stay long since I’m due at the other campsite with the rest of the crew. But this feels like a dismissal and definitely not the continuation of our flirtation in the RV minutes before. I wait for her to say something more, but I’m met with silence. “Is . . . everything okay?”
“Actually, no, it’s not—”
“Suburban to RV. Suburban to RV.” A crackly voice, followed by a high-pitched noise and a squelch, sounds from the inside of the cab. Tara.
Vic turns to the RV, but I redirect her. “What’s up?” I frown.
“Who was . . .”
“I need you here, ASAP, Joel. Tent issues.” Tara says. “Hello?”
“Dammit.” I pop the driver’s side door open and grab the handheld radio. “This is Joel.”
“Took you long enough. Adrian’s on bathroom break and I can’t get this tent up for the life of me. Come now. Space 161. Same row. You can’t miss me.”
I growl, torn as to where I should be.
Victoria pastes on a smile that I know is fake. “I’m super tired and tomorrow is another big day. I want to do better than last time.” Her eyes drop, and a hint of a real smile moves up to her eyes. “I mean, anything will be better than last time, right? I’m sorry about that, again.”
“Hey, I’ve forgotten all about it. Out of sight, out of mind. Left that business up in Desert Willow.”
She peers at me. “Right. Out of sight . . . well . . . go fix the tent.”
“She can wait.”
“Joel!” Tara says through the radio.
“Go. We’ll talk tomorrow.” She unloads everything from her arms into mine. I scour her face for a clue as to what’s going on in her head, what caused this hot to cold shift.
“So . . . not tonight?”
She sighs. “As much as that tempts me, I think that maybe tonight’s not a good night. Is that okay?”
“Yes, of course, it’s okay. I have my phone. Holler if you need anything, okay?”
“Sure. See you first thing in the morning.”
I lean in to kiss her, but she backs away and climbs up the stairs. I hear the click of the lock, watch her roll up the driver and passenger side windows. Then she shuts down the outdoor lights.
Well, shit. What the fuck just happened?