The problem is, I can’t stop thinking about her lips. My hoodie bunched in her hand, her tugging me closer?—
My phone vibrates in my back pocket, and I pull it out to see a voice message from Evan. I read it rather than listening.
Hey bro period just checking how things are coming period Dad said you were delayed in Kansas period are you moving now question mark we’re all eager to see you period
A moment later, there’s another voice message.
Sloane reminded me I don’t need to say the punctuation in voice messages comma but she can’t stop me period can you babe question mark
Great. Just great.
“Uh, hey, I need to send my brother a voice memo. He doesn’t do great with texts. Do you mind?”
“Not at all!” Poppy says, pausing the podcast. Her face flushes, and I realize she’s been a little pale all day.
The tightness around her eyes looks like she’s in pain, and knowing it’s gotta be exhaustion makes me feel all kinds of guilty. I tried driving again this morning—wedged myself behind the wheel, adjusted the seat as far back as it would go—but my knees were jammed against the dashboard and I couldn’t reach the pedals properly. After watching me struggle for five minutes, Poppy gently touched my arm and said, “Hey, why don’t I just drive? I really don’t mind.”
When I started to argue, she smiled that determinedly cheerful smile and added, “I can already tell I’m a way better driver than you are, and neither of us needs to worry if you’ll be able to un-jam your leg in order to brake in time. Please. Let me drive.”
She was so sweet and teasing, somehow making it sound like I’d be doing her a favor. Classic Poppy.
Plus, she was right. Doesn’t make me feel any less guilty, though.
But we have a plan: she’ll drive another three hours until we stop to sleep in Columbus, Ohio. In two separate rooms.
I take a breath and then hit record on my phone. I have to talk louder than I want to over the sounds of the road. “Hey, bro. We’re making progress. Just outside of Indianapolis, so we’re going to stop for gas and dinner, then we’ll keep going. We’re staying in Columbus tonight. We’ll plan to get on the road around six in the morning, and we should get to Rochester by noon. I’ll make it in time for your rehearsal dinner.”
Evan’s response comes back only seconds later. I’m reading the transcript, but a bump in the road makes the phone jump, and I accidentally hit the listen button with my thumb. Evan’s voice is loud over the speakerphone, filling the car with a strong, suggestive voice.
“Who is we question mark are you bringing a girl home question mark question mark”
My face feels like it’s roasting over an open fire.
“Does he say the punctuation, too? I do that every time!” Poppy says, a pink tinge to her round cheeks. It’s nice of her to try to pretend his comment doesn’t mean anything after we kissed.
But we kissed, so it feels like it means something.
Although it clearly doesn’t.
“Yup,” I say, feeling a mix of annoyed and unsettled. Why won’t she talk about the kiss? She talks about everything. And why did Evan have to pick up on me saying “we?”
“I’m just … gonna … call Evan.”
She nods.
“Hey,” I say as soon as he picks up. I angle my body toward the window, watching the snowy plains give way to suburbs. The window is too thin to keep the cold out, and I’m suddenly glad of it. I’m burning up in here. “No, I’m not bringing anyone home. A … friend and I both got stranded at the Denver airport. She’s from Rochester, too, so we rented a car together.”
“She?” Evan’s disbelief is well placed. “You don’t have any friends left in Rochester, let alone female friends. Who is she?”
I catch a glimpse of my reflection—my eyes look guilty. But he’s not here to call me on it, so I pretend he didn’t ask about Poppy and instead answer the question Iwishhe were asking. “Yup, we’re making progress.”
“Bro, are you pretending we’re having a different conversation so this girlfriend of yours doesn’t know we’re talking about her?”
I grit my teeth. “We won’t be driving through the night, no,” I say. “The weather’s too bad to risk it.”
He huffs, and I think it’s a laugh until I hear him whispering something to Sloane. Then he asks, “But you’re sure you’ll be here tomorrow, right? You’ve gotta be here, bro.”
My irritation is growing by the minute. Yeah, this week is important, but my family is acting like I’m sabotaging events on purpose.
