Once Upon a Road Trip (26 page)

Scott just grinned.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

After changing into the nicest clothes she had with her, which amounted to a knee-length denim skirt with a violet wrap blouse, Angie met her host family in the lobby and together they took a taxi to
Jubilee
. The modern French restaurant embodied refinement, from the fastidious décor and stiffly-postured waiters to the menu prices that made her cringe. She felt a keen sense of guilt over realizing the cost of one meal should have easily been enough to feed her for a week. But Scott’s father was insistent that she order something she’d never had before, and she wanted to be a gracious guest.

“I’ve never had escargot,” she said finally, setting her finger over its description on the menu.

Scott groomed his wild, unbound hair behind his shoulders with one hand, revealing the blatant disgust on his face. “Snail? That’s an -insect-, you know.”

Angie barely refrained from rolling her eyes and volunteering her biology scores. She’d gathered that he was wearing his hair down in an effort to annoy his father in public, and she didn’t want to encourage his contrary mood.

Martha spoke up in a concerned voice, “That’s brave of you, but are you sure? The duck and pheasant are both very good.”

“I’ve actually had both of those before. We have a few hunters in my family,” Angie said. “Although, I’m sure the experience is more enjoyable when you don’t have to mind every bite to keep from breaking a tooth on a BB—”

Scott’s father broke into a rumbling belly laugh that drew the attention of a few nearby tables. Once he’d collected himself, it became apparent that he’d found her candor endearing as well as amusing. He asked what type of game Angie thought was the most exotic, and she thought for a moment before explaining her mother’s recipe for barbecued squirrel. That was enough to elicit murmurs of fascination out of both Martha and Shaun. Scott feigned a look of nausea, which she decidedly ignored.

Once their orders had been taken, Scott’s father beckoned a waiter to him and requested white wine for everyone at the table. Angie shifted in discomfort when the man came by to fill her glass, waiting until he came to Shaun and began a light conversation about the quality of the wine before she leaned aside to Scott.

“Does your dad know how old I am?” she whispered.

“Relax. They always have wine with dinner,” Scott muttered, sounding irked. “Seriously, take a break from the goody-goody thing.”

Angie resisted glowering at him as she straightened up in her chair.
He probably thinks I’ve never even smelled alcohol.

While drinking wasn’t a pastime her immediate family had ever taken an interest in, it wasn’t something she was oblivious to. Alcohol had often been blamed for her grandfather’s meanness and her uncle’s ailing liver. She knew full well that too much of it made sensible people stupid and stupid people dangerous.

No big deal. Just don’t overdo it.

Picking up the glass of pale-gold liquid, she brought it to her lips. She expected it to be bitter, like the
Chardonnay her mother occasionally sipped to soothe back spasms after a long day, but this wine was smooth and sweet. She was glad — that would make it easier to avoid being rude. 

Shaun turned his full attention to Angie once the waiter had moved on. “What destinations do you have coming up next on your trip?” he asked, admiration for her venture carrying thick in his voice.

“One day in Lancaster, Pennsylvania; then all the way down to Georgia for two weeks  near Atlanta; five days near Miami; and then maybe a few days somewhere near Birmingham, Alabama.” She paused, reviewing the map in her mind. “I’m not really sure after that. I had to cut out a stop in Arkansas, so I don’t know what way I’ll head home yet.”

“You know, Scott will be staying with his mother in D.C. for the rest of the summer,” Shaun said, glancing to his son with a questioning look. “If you have any interest in seeing the Capitol, you might want to think about coming back that way.”

Seeming caught unawares, Scott sat up at attention. “Yeah, I mean, that could work. I can check with mom.”

It had to be the first time Angie had seen him agree with his father with any degree of enthusiasm. “That might be a good option. I’d love to see Washington D.C. in person,” she said, smiling in appreciation.

The food arrived, diverting the discussion while everyone tended to their meal. Angie’s dish was served on a circular plate with a dozen half-sphere hollows, which had been filled with a steaming mixture of butter, garlic, and herbs. The escargot wallowed within each depression, requiring her to use a pronged utensil to spear the morsels. Once she was sure everyone else had started eating, she popped one of the shapeless bits into her mouth and chewed before she could deliberate on its origins. The piece was rubbery, but void of the sliminess she’d braced for. The flavor itself was unremarkable, as the meat had taken on the essence of the butter and garlic.

Martha went into fond detail about each of the proposal attempts Shaun had made before convincing her to become his fifth wife.

“I made him propose once for every previous wife,” she joked, giving Scott’s father a good-humored smile. Scott sat by impassive, appearing bored with the story he’d no doubt heard many times.

In spite of her initial concern over the evening, Angie felt confident it had been a success by the end. But as they all got up to leave, she felt the floor of the restaurant suddenly tilt. She grabbed the back of her chair to steady herself, glancing around to see if anyone else had noticed the phenomenon. Scott’s father and stepmother were busy chatting, unaware of her misstep.

Scott did notice, however. Eyeing her, he sidestepped closer and touched her arm. “You okay?”

“I think I ate too much,” Angie lied, rummaging through her memory for the number of times her wine glass had been refilled. Twice? She hadn’t paid it much attention, presuming the food would absorb the alcohol. She had felt perfectly normal while she was seated. But now that she was standing, her head swam and her balance was questionable.

You idiot
, she chided herself.

Arm in arm, Shaun and Martha headed out the front door. Angie poured all of her concentration into her footing as she turned to follow the couple out, aware that Scott was still watching her.
You’re fine. Just make it to the taxi
. She wobbled slightly at the threshold but covered it by placing a hand on the door frame. Stepping out onto the sidewalk, she was just in time to be struck with dread as Scott’s stepmother made a suggestion.

“It’s such a gorgeous evening, why don’t we walk back?” Martha gave Shaun’s doughy midsection a playful poke. “Some of us could use a little exercise.”

Angie stifled a whimper, seeing no clear way to keep from humiliating herself. When they set off at a strolling pace she kept far to the right, praying she wouldn’t trip. The cement felt wrong under her feet, more like sifting sand than a solid surface. Scott noticed her irregular gait and slipped his arm around hers. She was as grateful not to have to ask for the assistance as she was to have a stable anchor.

“Are you…tipsy?” Scott leaned aside, whispering in disbelief.

“No!” she hissed. Revising her assessment, she frowned. “Maybe.” 

“Just take it easy,” he said, crooking his elbow in a genteel motion.

Angie secured herself to his arm and allowed him to escort her along. Part of her expected Scott to deride her lack of discretion, but to her relief, he seemed more concerned than amused. They fell in line behind Shaun and Martha, pausing at storefronts as the older couple window-shopped. The night air was thick with humidity, though the temperature had eased and a light breeze carried through the streets. By the time they arrived back at the high-rise Angie had regained her poise, along with some of her dignity.

“Can I come in for a while?” Scott asked, leaning his shoulder into the wall as he watched Angie unlock the door to the guest apartment.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she answered, palming the knob and pushing the door open a crack. In her mind, she’d made enough questionable decisions for one day.

Scott folded his arms, looking offended. “Look, I know I’m not the greatest influence—”

“I’m not blaming you for anything,” she said, sifting through her thoughts. She’d been trying to weigh her feelings ever since things between them became complicated. “I just think we need to be more careful and not spend so much time…alone.”

“Don’t trust me?” His expression transitioned into something more wounded.

“Right now, I don’t trust -me-,” Angie stressed. She averted her gaze for a long moment. “When we get too close, it’s like my brain switches off.”

“Is that such a bad thing? You do kinda think too much.” Scott’s tone came out genial, though his smile bordered on smug. She hated how handsome it made him look.

“It could be—” Angie began.

Her breath caught when he stepped up to her, his face inclined mere inches from hers. Though he had completely invaded her personal space, it didn’t occur to her to take a step back.  

Seeming to interpret her lack of retreat as an invitation, Scott closed the remaining gap between them. His lips captured hers in a swift, sure movement. At once, she understood the friction that had grated between them throughout the day. Her palms lifted to his chest to push him away, but before she knew it, she’d forgotten why she placed them there.

Independent of her intentions, her lips followed his lead. Some remote part of her mind registered the faint, acrimonious taste of cigarette smoke. Just as she’d gathered herself enough to create a pause, the kiss deepened. He pulled her tighter against him. Though there were no hands where they shouldn’t be, the demand she sensed was more dizzying than the wine.

Somewhere down the hallway a door opened and closed as a tenant left their apartment. The sound was enough of a distraction for Angie to recover control and pull away. They stood in unsettled silence for a moment while an elderly woman scuttled past, her footsteps receding to the elevator. Angie groped for some way to transform the lingering tension.

“I thought you were going to quit smoking,” she said, deliberately dredging up an old point of contention between them.

Scott shrugged. “I’ve been trying. Stress makes the cravings worse, ya know.” He leveled his gaze on her.

“Sorry,” she muttered, looking down toward the elevator to avoid his gaze. “Don’t worry, I’ll be out of your hair in a few days.”

“Yeah, about that—I’ve been thinking.” He raked his fingers back through his espresso mane, clearing a few stray locks from his eyes. “You know, you could just stay here for an extra week or two if you wanted. My dad wouldn’t care, I already asked him—”

“No, I need to keep going.” She cut him off, gently. “I live over a thousand miles away from you, Scott. It just wouldn’t work out. We shouldn’t be pretending like we can be more than friends.”

“But what if we could be?” Scott spoke with enough earnest emotion to stun her into silence. “If we both wanted it bad enough, we could make it work. I know it’d be hard, but I mean—” His voice lowered and then faltered as he locked eyes with her. “I think…I might be in love with you. And I know you at least feel -something- for me, or you wouldn’t kiss me back like that.”

Angie shook her head, feeling a deep sense of panic clawing up from her stomach. “No, no you’re not. You shouldn’t throw that word around.” She found herself arguing, voice strained. “I know there’s this crazy...pull...between us, and I don’t understand it. But I care about you too much to jump into something.”

Scott opened his mouth and then closed it, looking confounded by her reaction. “So, you think we should slow down?” he said at last.

“I think we should stop and back up,” she clarified. “I don’t think we’ve been thinking straight.”

Scott lowered his head, leaning his shoulder into the wall beside her door. “I guess you’re right,” he agreed, working his jaw side to side.

Angie sighed inwardly as she watched him.
Better to hurt him a little now than a lot later on.
“I need you to do me a favor.”

“Anything you want.” Scott answered without hesitation, though his voice was glum.

“Could you give me the day to myself tomorrow? I need some time to think.”

Scott nodded. “No problem. I guess it wouldn’t be a bad idea if I took some time, too.”

“Thanks for understanding.” She wanted to touch his arm — offer some light and reassuring gesture. But instead, she stepped into the apartment and began to ease the door closed between them. More than anything she wanted clarity. And she knew the more distance there was between them, the clearer her thoughts would be.

“At least now I know it wasn’t all one-sided,” Scott said, unmoving as he watched her.

She paused, leaving the door cracked several inches. “What wasn’t?”

The left corner of his mouth quirked upward. “You—making me crazy.”  He rocked away from the wall and started down the hall.

“Good night, Scott,” Angie murmured after him.

Angeli drifted across the apartment, kicking off her shoes as she went. She pushed her way into the bathroom and surveyed the white marble-topped vanity. Deciding it was sturdy enough, she hopped up to sit with her feet in the sink, curling her arms around her knees as she stared into the mirror at her own serious eyes. Her way of peering into her soul.

She could remember doing this often when she was a small child, finding solace in focusing on her reflection as it appeared against the sheen of her muddled brown irises. The habit had led to the discovery that her eyes would become hazel when she was in a brooding mood. She’d even known them to turn bright green on the occasions she’d been upset enough to have a good cry. Eventually looking up this phenomenon, she’d found it had something to do with stress and blood pressure. She couldn’t recall the exact explanation, only that it had eased her concerns at the time.

For the moment, her eyes shown hazel as they stared back at her — and with good reason. This thing with Scott was causing her strain, and she still didn’t know how she should feel about him.