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Me: Or if I asked you to come clean out our gutters?
Bishop: I can be there in an hour and ten minutes
Me: What’s the extra ten minutes for?
Bishop: Gotta pick up a ladder.
I shake my head.
Me: How about if I ask you to dinner?
Bishop: Like a date?
Me: It’s not NOT a date.
Bishop: Ooooh, that is quite a label.
Me: I’m reckless like that.
Bishop: Well, count me in for anything reckless. What did you have in mind?
Me: I’ve been craving a deli sandwich since you mentioned it the other day. I was thinking we could grab food and head to Hilltop?
Bishop: That sounds awesome. I’ll pick you up in an hour?
Me: Sounds good.
Bishop: Can’t wait.
Setting my phone down, I return to my wheel, shaking the nerves out of my hands as I do. Maybe it’s the fact that I always feel so good after yoga, or maybe it’s that my conversation with Nicole prompted me to really process some of what has happened between me and Bishop since he’s been home.
Regardless, it feels like getting dinner and chatting about us might be the right call for today, even if I have no idea what it will result in. There’s a voice inside me that says I just need to give in to how easy and natural it is between us, says I don’t need to think too hard about it and I just need to go with the flow a little bit more. But going with the flow hasn’t ever been my strong suit.
There’s also another voice—a much louder one—trying to remind me of the fact that, eventually, Bishop is going to leave Cedar Point again. He’s going to go back up to Oregon to continue pursuing his dream. I don’t fault him for that. Nobody should feel restricted from going after their heart’s desire. It’s just a reality that Bishop’s passion will always lead him away from me.
And if things between us are going to continue, at some point I have to decide if it will be worth it to face that truth again.
chapter nineteen
Bishop
The sun is just beginning to set behind the treetops when Gabi and I pull up to the parking lot at Hilltop with sandwiches, a bottle of wine, and two big blankets. The picnic table overlooking the lake is a place we came together often to hang out when we were both high school students without any real money or anywhere private to go.
A lot of Cedar Point kids go up to the lookout behind the resort for a spot to make out—it’s nicknamed Easy Street for a reason—but Gabi and I always came here, which is why I feel unsure about what’s on her mind. This spot for us has a history that includes many things. Long, important chats. A few fights. Plenty of hot-and-heavy moments in the Ford Ranger I drove around back then.
Tonight could be anything.
The beautiful weather we had today is still barely hanging on, so we keep our blankets folded in a pile on one of the benches and sit side by side on the other, ripping open our sandwiches and twisting open the bottle of wine as we look out at the lake.
“I forgot cups,” Gabi says. “So we’ll be drinking straight from the bottle.”
I chuckle and take a sip then pass it to her. “We’ve always been classy bitches.”
She nods. “Don’t I know it.” Then she takes a sip herself.
We mostly sit in silence as we eat, just enjoying the setting sun and the view and passing the wine back and forth. It’s the cheap stuff, grabbed from the bottom shelf at the grocery store as we were ordering sandwiches, and I don’t doubt we’ll both have hangovers tomorrow if we don’t drink a gallon of water tonight.
“Thanks for inviting me to hang out,” I say, finishing off the last of my sandwich. “I’ll be honest, I was surprised to hear from you.”
