Page 183 of Worth the Trip

Then she walked away.

I watched her go.

Yeah.

Big Lando worked for me.

The drive back to the athletic complex passed beneath a clean sky, sunlight still drying the edges of the road. Nolani sat angled toward me with one leg folded beneath her, our hands linked above the console and the bookstore bag resting carefully in her lap. Every few minutes, her thumb moved along mine. Sometimes, she squeezed my fingers for no reason beyond confirming I was still touching her.

I lifted her hand and kissed it.

“You’re clingy.”

“I’m attentive.”

“You’ve kissed my hand at least fourteen times today.”

“So you counting too.”

“That wasn’t the point.”

“It became the point when you produced documentation.”

Nolani smiled toward the windshield. “Eyes on the road.”

“They are.”

“They were on me.”

“Peripheral excellence.”

“Inflated understanding of your abilities.”

“Clean driving record.”

“For now.”

I winked and returned our hands to the console.

“You nervous?”

“About your driving?”

“About going home.”

Nolani looked ahead as the athletic complex drew closer. “No.”

“That answer got another sentence hiding behind it.”

She glanced at me. “I’m not nervous. I just don’t want the day to end.”

That took every joke I had lined up and sent them home.

I brought her hand to my mouth again, then settled it against my thigh.

“It doesn’t end.”

“We’re about to stand beside my car and say goodbye.”