Devon chuckled at that as we reached our stuff. He grabbed one of the towels and quickly wrapped it around me, then used the other to dry himself off before rubbing my hair with it.
He pulled the towel off my head, and I smiled at him as I pushed my hair out of my face. Our eyes met, and something shifted between us.
In the next instant, we were all over each other.
The towels hit the ground, and we kissed like our lives depended on it. I forgot about being cold, forgot whatever bullshit we’d said about just being friends. I wanted Devon. It was impossible to deny our attraction for another second. I didn’t even know how we’d managed to hold it at bay for a week, but that was over now.
Somehow, we ended up on the blanket, tangled up together. His tongue was in my mouth, and his hand was wrapped around my cock, and it all felt so right, soinevitable. We jerked each other off, quickly, clumsily, and when I was about to come he slid down my body and started to suck me. It was absolute perfection.
I yelled as I exploded down his throat, arching off the blanket, thrusting into his warm, wet mouth. The orgasm was so powerful that it made my head spin.
I had to recover for a few seconds. The moment I could think again, I climbed on top of him and sucked him while I stroked his shaft, almost desperate to push him over the edge. It didn’t take long. Devon yelled like I had when he came. There was no reason to hold back. This place was so private that it felt like we were living in a world of our own, one where nothing mattered but this moment.
Afterwards, while we caught our breath, he grabbed the edge of the blanket and folded it over us. Then he enveloped me in his arms, and in his warmth. I kissed him gently before saying, “So, we said we weren’t going to mess around again…”
“I couldn’t resist you.”
“I couldn’t resist you, either,” I said, “and I want to keep doing this. We had our reasons not to, but maybe this road trip has its own set of rules. It’s all about having fun and being spontaneous, right? That could extend to sex, with the understanding that there are no promises or expectations for when this trip is over. What do you think?”
It wasn’t the best idea. I knew we both ran the risk of getting too attached and getting hurt, but I couldn’t keep fighting my attraction to him, and it seemed he felt the same way.
Devon rested his forehead against mine as he murmured, “I think I’d agree to anything right now, as long as it means I can keep getting naked with you.”
We spent all afternoon in that little cove, alternately kissing, talking, or just listening to the soothing rhythm of the surf. When the breeze picked up, we got dressed, but then we went right back to cuddling under the blanket.
We stayed long enough to watch a beautiful sunset, and then we quickly packed up and headed back to the motel, while it was still light enough to see where we were going.
After taking turns in the shower, I opened my borrowed suitcase and considered my options. “Would you be okay with staying in tonight? I know you wanted to head into town,” I said, “but I kind of want to put on something comfortable and sketch for a while.”
“That’s totally fine. There’s a great pizza place nearby that delivers, and I can show you Santa Barbara tomorrow.”
Even though he was nice about it, I wondered if he was secretly disappointed. Devon was the type of person who was always on the go, while I was definitely a homebody. Apparently that still applied when I was nowhere near home.
In the morning, we had coffee with Jan and Janice before packing our things and driving to a beautiful shopping district in downtown Santa Barbara. This was the Southern California promised in movies and tourists’ brochures—pristine, palm tree-lined streets, a perfect, mild temperature, even in winter, and interesting shops and restaurants in lovely Spanish-style buildings, which catered to a high-end clientele.
A lot of San Diego was like that, too—just not the part I’d grown up in. That was our next destination, so after we explored for a while and Devon took me to brunch, we got back in the van and headed south. It should have taken about three and a half hours, except that the traffic through L.A. bogged down and added an extra hour, even though we were nowhere near actual commuting hours.
Finally, as we exited the freeway, I pulled out my phone. “I think I’m going to message Myra. She’s a waitress at the diner.”
“I thought you wanted to surprise your dad.”
“I do, so I’ll swear her to secrecy. I want to check if he’s at work and find out if he’s busy. I mean, it’s a little after three p.m. so it’s not like the diner will be slammed at this hour…”
Devon glanced at my profile as we pulled up to a stoplight. “Are you nervous about seeing your dad?”
“No, but it’s stirring up a lot of emotions. This is the first time I’ve been back since I moved to San Francisco, and I was in such a bad place when I left. I’d just ended that horrible relationship, but I never talked to my dad about it. He would have been so upset if he’d known how much I was hurting, so I ended up pulling back and putting up walls between us. I really wish I hadn’t done that.”
I paused for a few moments before saying, “We’ve come a long way since then. Even though we call and text all the time now, I guess I’m worried about what it’s going to be like when we’re together. It’s going to make me so sad if this feels awkward, or if he seems distant.”
Devon squeezed my hand. “Just remember that I’ll be right by your side. I’m great at filling awkward silences with long, rambling stories with no point whatsoever, and by totally oversharing.”
He was obviously trying to lighten the mood, and when I glanced at him, he smiled at me. But there was genuine concern in his eyes.
It only took a few minutes to hear back from Myra. I sent a reply and told Devon, “My dad’s running errands, but he’ll be back at the diner by four. We might as well head over there.”
The diner had been called Sal’s Place ever since it was founded in the 1920s. My dad was its third owner, but he hadn’t had the heart to change the name. When we pulled into the parking lot, I climbed out of the van and stood there for a long moment, taking it all in.
The years hadn’t been kind to Sal’s. The boxy, rectangular building stood by itself on a corner lot, lined with planter boxes of spindly succulents. It was still cute with its art deco details, but the red paint had faded, the neon sign had burned out years ago, and the chrome finish on the door and decorative window trim was marred and worn. The whole thing really could have benefitted from the kind of facelift only a big influx of cash could provide—and that wasn’t happening anytime soon.
