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She swipes a hand through the air. “Forget I said that. Why haven’t you packed? We leave in four days.”
“Maybe I changed my mind and don’t wanna go with a Snoopy Susan like you.”
Her eye roll is heavy, annoyed. “I was looking for your blow-dryer because mine smells like fire whenever I turn it on. It’s not like I was trying to find your dirty panties or anything.”
“Have you ever wondered how much you could sell your used underwear for? I bet you could make thousands by doing that.”
“Adalyn.” It’s a frustrated sound.
I smile timidly. “Right. Sorry. I haven’t packed yet because I’m feeling oddly nervous. I’m not sure what’s different this time, but I’m almost . . . scared.”
This trip has been planned since I was eighteen. And after postponing it repeatedly over the past three years, the time has come.
I’m going to spend the next two months travelling Europe with my best friend.
But just like every day since coming up with the idea, the thought of leaving makes my stomach sour and my back sweat.
Ivy stares at me, blinking slowly. “You’rescared? The girl who begged for a chance to skydive on her sixteenth birthday and whose idea of a fun Thursday afternoon in Mexico is swimming in a shark cage?”
I frown. “I know. It makes no sense.”
“Why are you scared? The next two months are going to be full of sexy European men with even sexier accents and amazing food. We’ve planned everything to a T. Where we’re staying, how we’re getting there.”
“I know. Trust me, I know. It doesn’t make sense to me either, but every time I try to pack, I feel like I’m going to puke.”
Her eyes soften with understanding. “Do you not want to leave your family? Two months is a long stretch of time, Addie. If that’s it, we can always shorten the trip.”
Is that it? Am I just nervous about being gone for so long?
“No. I’ll get over it. Maybe I just have to get there, and whatever these feelings are will disappear. We’re not changing anything. We’ve already spent way too much money on this.”
And by way too much, I meanway. Too. Much.My bank account hasn’t been as empty as it is right now since I was sixteen.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. This trip is just as much for you as it is for me.” With a total fake sense of determination, I push off the couch, plant my hands on my hips, and puff out my chest. “I’m going to pack right now. I’m getting this done.”
Then, I spin on my heels and tear out of the living room, my eyes narrowed on my bedroom at the end of the hallway. The door is open, exposing the bare white walls and matching carpet inside. My suitcase is still empty on my bed when my toes sink into the carpet, and I come to a stop with the mattress touching my thighs.
Staring at my closed closet door, I ignore the sore feeling in my stomach and reach for it, tugging it open. The next few minutes are a mess of flying clothes and hangers hitting the floor as I create a pile on my bed of almost every piece of clothing I own. Once that’s done, I head into my connecting bathroom and dig my small travel bag out from under the sink and start to fill it with everything I can find, with the exception of what I’ll still be needing the next few days.
“Woah. We’re going for two months, not two years, sweetie,” Ivy mutters as I come out of the bathroom and freeze.
I cringe at the mess. “Help me.”
She laughs softly and sorts through the clothes, starting to build piles for different things. When she lifts a heavy wool sweater and looks at me with an arched brow, I laugh.
“Never hurts to be prepared,” I say.
“There’s prepared, and there’sprepared. This is too much. Nowhere we’re going will be cold enough to need this thing. It’s almost July.”
“Yeah, yeah. Just toss it on the floor, and I’ll take care of it later,” I huff, stepping beside her and joining in on the sorting. “What did you pack?”
“Mostly shorts and T-shirts. Too many bikinis. I have this dream of us on a boat in Mykonos, wearing matching suits.”
“Hopefully, no broken straps and nip slips occur during this supposed boat trip.”
She bumps my shoulder. “Even if there were, who cares? That sounds like a later problem.”
