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one | nova
July
Who beginstheir two-week road trip from Vermont to California by meeting their riding companion in a church on one of America’s most famous college campuses?
In hindsight, the suggestion was extra on my part, but I’ve never been to the University of Notre Dame, and Dad made me watch the movieRudymore times than I can count growing up. When Devin suggested South Bend, Indiana, as a pick-up point rather than driving two hours out of my way to his house in Grand Rapids, my ‘Ruby Pratt’s daughter’ gene kicked in, and I researched the must-see sites of this glorious campus.
I’ll never be able to explain why I picked Basilica of the Sacred Heart as our meeting spot, especially since the nearest parking lot is a twenty-minute hike to the church. I’m touring the campus alone on my walk to the chapel, which was not my intent. My plan was for Devin and me to use the time walking around campus to get to know each other. A video conversation, a few texts, and following one another on social media doesn’t make us best friends, and we’re about to be on the road, cooped up in my little convertible and sharing hotel rooms for half of August. But, instead of bonding with Devin Hawthorne, my platform sandals tap the church’s slate tile flooring as I search for the road trip buddy who was supposed to meet me out front.
My eyes bug at the ornate cathedral, and I get lost in the stories presented through the frescoes adorning the walls and covering the vaulted ceiling. Then there are the stained glass windows.
“Wow.” I pull my cell from my cross-body purse and snap away, excited to send Mom the shots so she can research the depictions.
“Freaky, don’t you think?” Warm cinnamon-tinged breath teases my ear.
Fumbling my phone, I turn and find Devin Hawthorne staring at the painted ceiling. His deep tone carries in the quiet building, and I glance around, ensuring no one overheard. We’re near the end of the cathedral, far enough from those standing by the center altar that I think we’re safe. I shuffle closer, opening my mouth to speak, but he beats me to the punch.
“Those people staring down and judging us.” His dark brown head remains tipped, his hands in the pockets of his khaki shorts. “They look real. Can you imagine this place at night? I bet it’s eerie.”
My gaze lifts from his tan profile to the ceiling. An artist named Luigi Gregori created the artwork throughout the church. The starry blue ceilings covered in angels are my favorite, but this incredible cloud-covered ceiling of angels holding a cross surrounded by people is lifelike.
“They do look like they could pop off the wall and have a conversation with us. I wonder who they are.”
“Saints and prophets.”
As if aided by his response, my gaze lands on Moses holding the Ten Commandments among the figures.
“Is your family Catholic?”
In the two years since his sister Willa came to teach for Mom’s dance academy, I’ve never known her to attend church, but she could have grown up in one.
A garbled laugh sticks in Devin’s throat. “No.” His refusal comes off as more emphatic than necessary. “The same tour guide who couldn’t take his eyes off your assets while filling you with knowledge stopped by and gave me unsolicited information a few minutes ago.”
The same tour… “If you saw me come in, the least you could’ve done was say something.”
Devin shrugs, continuing his study of the ceiling as if it’s the most enthralling thing he’s seen. “You seemed pretty into it. I figured, why disturb you?”
And he watched me long enough to know that creeper was checking me out. He could’ve warned a girl.
“Maybe because I’d already waited outside for you for fifteen minutes, where we were supposed to meet.”
Finally, he swivels his dark gaze toward me, and it’s not the first time my stomach has done a somersault meeting his gaze. Devin Hawthorne is beyond attractive, which is not something Willa mentioned when she first brought up the idea of us road-tripping across the country together. I mean, she said he was cute, but sisters can be biased, andcuteis nowhere near the realm of what Devin is.
We video chatted mid-July to make this in-person meet-up less awkward, but talking through a screen is different.
His tongue swipes his bottom lip. “I hadn’t realized we were in a time crunch considering we’re going to be in the car for like a hundred hours.”
“We’re not.” I brush away a flyaway strand of hair. “You’re right, but a text would’ve been nice, considering standing in the 85-degree heat after driving for two days isn’t my idea of fun.”
Rocking on his heels, Devin’s head bobs with a flare of his eyes and a raise of his brows. “Noted.”
Okay.Reel it in, Nova.Starting off on the wrong foot before being stuck in a car with a stranger is a bad idea. “Look. You don’t know me, and I don’t know you. But it’s just us for the next couple of weeks, and communication would be nice.”
“You do know I’m a guy, right?” The corners of his mouth tug. “Communication is the last thing we do well.”
“Trust me. I’m aware.” A familiar zing of humiliation pricks my heart, but I shove it aside.
Devin’s gaze narrows, scrutinizing, but he doesn’t speak, and I’m not in the sharing mood.
