CHAPTER SIX

I changed ten times Friday morning, finally settling on a short pair of faded denim cut-offs and a fitted t-shirt with my standard white Keds. Anything else felt like I was trying too hard, which I was. I tugged my hair into a loose braid and looked at my reflection in the mirror. Sage green eyes, even skin tone, standard eyebrows and eyelashes. I’d never thought I needed makeup before, but I suddenly felt self-conscious. I pinched my cheeks like they always do in Jane Austen books and then laughed out loud because I was acting insane. Beck knew what I look like and he seemed to like it so far, right?

I made myself some organic egg whites with a side of banana and peanut butter. Then I painted my nails a bright pink color, hated it, and swapped it out for a bright red.

After all that, it was still only ten thirty in the morning.

Crap .

I clicked on the TV and flipped through day-time shows, not really concentrating on any of it. My finger kept clicking aimlessly until I looked up and saw that it was five minutes to eleven. Yesterday we’d arranged for Beck to pick me up at my apartment, so when I heard a loud BEEP-BEEP a second later, my heart rate leapt. I hopped off the couch and straightened my shirt.

I had three bags filled with my essentials, plus my sleeping bag and a grocery bag full of healthy snacks. My trusty black urn sat beside the pile, taped on all sides so it wouldn’t spill open. That black urn was the most important thing I was taking on the trip. Well, other than my medications. I grabbed my first bag and opened my front door to find Beck standing a few feet outside. I took in his messy brown hair, white t-shirt, and dark jeans. Why did a white t-shirt look so good on him? Maybe because it was fitted enough to show off his toned body without being obnoxiously tight? I wasn’t quite sure.

He didn’t say anything at first. His hazel eyes scanned down my body, lingering a moment longer on my bare legs, and then he looked back up at me with a wide, perfectly straight smile.

“ Is that all you’re bringing?” he asked, pointing at the smallest of my three bags.

“ Hah! Yeah right, I have like ten times more stuff.”

He shook his head and narrowed his eyes on me playfully. “I like a girl with baggage, Abby Mae. Keeps things interesting.”

His comment was too much; it stripped away my normal sarcastic responses. I was left with nothing but the bag in my hand, so I tossed it at him. He had to think fast and catch it before it fell to the ground at his feet.

“ Good. Help me load it up then,” I smirked, and then turned to collect the rest of my stuff.

“ Don’t forget to go to the bathroom! We aren’t stopping until we’re out of hell!” he called behind me.

“ You mean Dallas?” I asked over my shoulder.

“ Exactly!”

I was sitting in the passenger seat in Beck’s old, yellow VW Camper. It had been renovated recently, so the inside was all new leather, but it still had a lot of the classic details.

Our stuff fit easily in the back and he wasn’t kidding about there being space to sleep. We’d have to be really close, but there was definitely room. My face reddened at the thought.

I wedged the urn between my feet so that it wouldn’t tip over, and then buckled my seat belt. When I looked up, Beck was watching me with a bemused smile. My hand instinctively slid over my side braid and my face. I didn’t feel anything out of the ordinary.

“ What?” I asked.

He shook his head, but his grin never faltered. “Nothing. Just trying to remember this moment.”

I furrowed my brows in wonder and tilted my head. The sun shone through the windshield of the Camper, highlighting the green details in his eyes. Beck wasn’t movie-star good-looking; he was boy-next-door good-looking— the kind of guy that might not know the full extent of his effect on the female population.

“ Why?” I asked.

“ Because our lives will never be the same.”

A small dimple formed on the corner of his mouth before he turned toward the steering wheel and pulled out of my apartment complex.

That dimple was the first thing I told myself to remember about the road trip.

Just as we turned onto the entrance for the highway, I peered over at Beck. “Just so you know, my faith in humanity is dangling by a few threads. If you murder me, I’ll pretty much lose all hope.”

I couldn’t keep the hint of a smile from my lips.

He nodded. “And if you murder me?”

I shrugged. “That would just be a good plot twist.”

We watched the Dallas landscape disappear behind us to the tune of Vampire Weekend. Beck thumbed the steering wheel to the beat of the song and I propped my feet up on the dashboard. It felt like the first day of summer, too good to be true. It was like the world might say “just kidding” and I’d wake up in my bed back home with nothing to look forward to except visiting Caroline.

I snuck glances in his direction every now and then, wondering what he was thinking about as he steered us toward our first destination.

“ There’s a campsite about three hours from here. What if we stayed there tonight?” he asked as we weaved through the rolling hills of Central Texas.

“ Sounds good.”

“ We just need to stop for food before we get there.”

I thought about my organic peanut butter and jelly sitting in my bag. “I brought some food with me.”

“ Supplies for s’mores?” he asked with a dead-serious tone.

“ No… Do we need those?”

He shot me a pitiful look. “Oh, sweet, naive, Abby. Camping without s’mores is not camping at all.”

“ What is it then?” I asked, peering over at him from the corner of my eye.

“ Unadulterated torture,” he offered deadpan.

I let out a soft laugh. “Wow. Alright, then we’ll make s’mores.”

…

Chocolate, graham crackers, and marshmallows, in quantities that could feed a small country, spilled out of my arms as we headed toward the camp ground. I’d assumed, you know, one package of each ingredient was enough, but Beck insisted we needed to stock up. “We never know when we’ll need s’mores during the trip.” I wondered if he planned on subsisting on them for the remainder of our travels.

“ Do you think they’ll still have campsites available?” I asked as we pulled into the state park.

“ Hopefully. It’s hot so I doubt there will be too many people.”

He had a point. The sun was setting soon, but the temperature was still hovering in the nineties. He pulled up toward the ranger’s cabin and a friendly redheaded woman poked her head out of the side window.

“ Evening, you two.”

I reached for my wallet to pay for half of the camping spot, but Beck beat me to it.

“ Here you go, I have a Texas State Park Pass for the summer,” he said, handing over the card to the woman. I thought about protesting, but I didn’t want to annoy the Park Ranger. “Are there any good camping sites left?”

She nodded emphatically. “Oh yeah, there’s hardly anyone in here today. It should pick up a bit tomorrow, though.”

She handed over a park map. “You’ll want to pick a spot near the lake. The temperature’s a little cooler near the water and it’s pretty during sunset.” She gave me a suggestive smile and I wondered if she thought we were dating or something. We aren’t going to get it on in your park, lady .

“ Is it near a restroom?” I asked.

“ Yes, there are a few restrooms placed sporadically throughout the park, but make sure to close the door when you go in so that wildlife doesn’t sneak up on you.”

I chewed on my lip, thinking about a bear following me into the restroom in the dead of night. Are there bears in Texas?

I was still mulling over that fear by the time we arrived at the campsite the ranger had circled on the map for us. The site was tucked in among tall cedars and pines and the lake she’d mentioned was only a few yards away. It was calm and quiet in the late evening. We positioned our tent so that the opening faced the lake. Actually, I should say Beck positioned our tent while I handed him the rods.

“ Do you want to throw our pillows and stuff in the tent while I start to get a fire going?” he asked, stretching his arms out above his head so that a sliver of his torso peeked out beneath the bottom of his shirt. Toned with a hint of a tan. I ended up not really being able to form a coherent sentence after that, so I just nodded and started laying out our sleeping bags. The tent was a really tight fit, so I put our backpacks in one corner. Our sleeping bags ended up right next to each other.

Ten minutes later, Beck was adding bigger logs to the fire and I was arranging camping chairs a few feet back from the smoky flames.

“ It’s too hot to sit close.”

He frowned. “Yeah. I’m about to swim in that lake if it doesn’t cool off soon.”

I hadn’t even thought about swimming in the lake. It definitely looked deep enough, but the edge was rimmed with algae and leaves.

“ Do you want a P and BJ?” I asked. The moment the letters slipped out of my mouth, I realized my slip up and all but convulsed on the spot. I stuttered and cleared my throat, anything to distract him. “I…I mean a PB and J… before you start eating s’mores?” I asked, plopping my grocery bag on top of the campsite’s picnic table.

I knew I was beet-red. I just asked Beck if he wanted a blow job. What a wonderful way to start our camping trip . To his credit, he didn’t make a joke out of it.

“ Sure, thanks. Extra peanut butter, please,” Beck said, maneuvering behind me. I thought he’d sit down and wait for me to bring a sandwich over to him, but instead he unpacked two plastic plates and went to work preparing the bread while I smeared peanut butter and jelly on each one. He grabbed our water bottles and met me by the camping chairs.

We made a good little team.

We were munching on the sandwiches when I finally asked him something I’d been wondering about. “How did you drop everything and come on this road trip? Aren’t you in school or something?”

“ It’s summer,” he noted, as if that explained everything.

“ Yes…” I agreed, hinting that I wanted more details.

He shrugged. “I was in college up in Boston, but I’m not sure how it will work out.”

I mashed my lips together, wondering if I had the right to ask why. I decided on an easier question. “What year are you?”

“ I just finished my junior year.”

“ You only have one year left and you don’t think it’s going to work out?”

He narrowed his eyes out over the lake. “Yup.”

“ Hmm.”

“ Hmm, what?” he asked, glancing back toward me. He’d finished his sandwich and unwrapped a chocolate bar to break off a piece.

“ What college do you go to?” I knew there was an insane amount of colleges in Boston, like fifty or sixty plus.

“ MIT,” he answered, standing up and walking toward the tree line.

I gaped. “I’m sorry. The MIT? You’re kidding, right?” He seemed smart, but MIT smart was another level altogether.

“ Nope,” he answered with a crooked smile, retrieving a long thin branch to use as a makeshift marshmallow toaster. He didn’t seem to mind my disbelief, but I needed more details. A part of me still thought he might have been kidding.

“ What’s your major?” I asked, trying to study his posture and facial tics as if I were a criminologist.

“ Petroleum engineering.” His voice didn’t hold any of its usual conviction. His gaze was focused on his marshmallow. He turned it slowly in a circle, toasting every side until it was a nice golden brown. I had to admire his dedication. My usual method involved setting the marshmallow on fire and devouring the sugary carcinogens.

“ Huh.” I sat there dumbfounded and he finally looked up at me, saving me from my misery.

“ Do you want proof?” he asked with a half-smile.

“ Yes.” I wanted to trust him, but it just seemed so odd.

He put his weight into his right leg and pulled out an old brown leather wallet from his back pocket. With a little flick, he opened it and pulled out a white card.

When he handed it over, I held it gently in my palm as if it was a piece of the Beck puzzle. It was his MIT student ID. He was pictured there in a tiny one inch by one inch square. He looked oddly serious. None of the features that made him breathtaking were present: his eye color wasn’t visible due to the shitty picture quality, his dimples were tucked away, and his air of confidence was hidden. It was like looking at his evil twin or something.

Directly under the photo read: Beckham Dilan Prescott— Pet. Engineering Department Access.

Once I’d handed it back to him, we just sat there in silence. None of it added up. Why didn’t he want to be an engineer if he was almost done with his degree?

“ So what are you going to do for a liv—”

He cut me off. “Let’s swim, Abby Mae. S’mores can wait.”

Before I could reply, he went into the tent, zipped it up so I couldn’t see the bottom half of him, and proceeded to change into a bathing suit.

My mouth hung open as my brain tried to catch up with the change of events. I was about to put a gooey marshmallow in my mouth and now I had to put a bathing suit on? I thought about saying that I hadn’t brought a bathing suit, but it was the middle of summer in Texas. He’d call my bluff.

“ Is that water safe to swim in? What if it has a ton of bacteria or something?” I asked, standing up to clean our plates and clear the table.

I heard the tent unzip.

“ Oh, it definitely does, but we’ll be okay. You can trust me, I’m an engineer.” He smiled a quirky grin.

I was about to utter a snarky remark, like “you’re not one yet,” when I finally registered his appearance. He was standing there shirtless with a pair of navy swim trunks resting low on his narrow hips. His smooth pectorals slid into well-defined abs, and suddenly I couldn’t remember what I was meant to be doing.

Did they make petroleum engineers work out? It must have been part of the curriculum.

“ I’ll clean the rest, you go change,” he said, heading toward me. I instinctively took a step back and then did an awkward pivot so that he wouldn’t be standing right next to me. I understand that wasn’t the smoothest thing to do, and I sort of looked like a flustered robot, but it was just A LOT to take in all at once.

Date: 2015-02-16; view: 346