I almost lose it though when, twenty minutes before we arrive, Eve announces we have to stop at the Bruce Willis Service Area.
“You seriously can’t hold it a little longer?” I plead with the backseat tyrant.
“OfcourseI can hold it, I have a bladder of vast and epic proportions! Rubbery, tough, discerning.” She punches her fist into her palm with each emphatic word. “I’ve been training it since I was a kid.”
“What?” My eyes widen in alarm.
“It’s tradition, bro,” Graham pipes up.
“A traditional pee,” I say, fully scornful as I make eye contact with each of them in the rearview mirror. “Twenty minutesbefore we arrive.”
“It’sBruce Willis’sService Area, man!” Eve points at the standard rest area. “What’swrongwith you?”
“Are you even from New Jersey?” Graham tuts.
“Just pull over,” Nomi says.
Groaning, I do. Eve launches out of the car first, then greets everyone she sees with a tip of her imaginary hat and “Yippee-ki-yay, fellowtruckers.” Graham promptly holds up an imaginary mic to each of their faces and asks them what their favorite Bruce Willis movie is.
I blink slowly. “Thisis why we stopped?”
“Whichever movie gets the most votes is what we’ll watch tonight,” Nomi explains. “Tradition.”
I cover my face with both hands.
“Hey. Breathe deep. You’re going to be fine.”
“I don’t get it.” I shake my head. “My whole life, people have complained thatI’mobnoxious. But this—” I jab a finger at Eve and Graham’s impromptu interview corner where a small crowd is engaging in friendly debate over theDie Hardfranchise. “—is objectively the most obnoxious thing ever.”
Nomi tilts her head. “Not objectively, no. It comes down to priorities.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, your priority is to get to where you’re going as quickly and efficiently as possible.”
“Exactly!”
Nomi shrugs. “Their priority is to have fun. Maybe your normal priorities are what’s putting you at odds with this situation. Maybe if you consciously shift your priorities to align with ours, and you try prioritizing fun, too, it’ll get your head in the right space.”
I stare at her. How does Nomi do this? How does she know exactly how to help me understand? I’ve spent this whole drive fighting my own frustration and worse, feeling defective for feeling it. But she just transformed the cacophony of unnamable feelings inside my chest to an explanation as clear as a bell.
“What if I don’t know how to prioritize fun?” I swallow, feeling oddly vulnerable admitting this, though it’s pointless. Nomi already understands me better than almost anyone I’ve ever met. “Even though I want to?”
Nomi’s smile is slow and sweet, like honey dripping from a spoon.
“I’ll show you how.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
NOMI
There’s something endearing about Julian really, earnestlytryingto be cool. It’s easy to forget how anxious he naturally is. His sharp jaw, piercing eyes, the strong, compelling architecture of his face—all of it suggests a confidence you’d presume is his birthright. How could anyone so attractive worry what the rest of us thinks?
But then this beautiful, successful man appears on your doorstep vibrating with nerves, armed with extravagant drinks he made to everyone’s exact liking and a playlist curated to encourage conversation. At one point, I saw him scrolling through a lengthy to-do list on his phone, mouthing the wordcheckover and over again.
And for what? Spending a weekend at the shore with a bunch of silly potheads? I hadn’t meant to touch his thigh on the ride here, but he was so worked up, I longed to smother out all the little sparks of nerves burning him up. The way he stilled beneath the press of my palm, his tight muscles releasing—it was heady having that effect on him.
But Julian’s always made me feel powerful.
