“Yeah?”

He pulled back and swiveled my legs so I was sideways on his lap. “I think that—I mean, I want to—” He cursed under his breath before continuing, “I want to take things slow with you. With us. We only have a couple months, and I want to remember all of it. I don’t just want to have sex with you and become another forgettable guy.”

I opened my mouth to interrupt, but he cut me off.

“I know,” he said. “I know that’s not what I am, but I don’t want to risk it. And I’m scared that if we have sex, then that’s the only thing we’ll remember from this time we have together, that’s all this adventure will become—sex. Because I’m positive that once I have you in that way, then I’ll need to have you always. And that’s just not good enough for me. It’s not good enough for us.”

“Okay,” I said, because a part of me agreed with him, and another part of me wondered what the hell I’d done that made me deserve him.

Sometimes the wrong path can lead us to the right road. And toward the greatest thing that will ever happen to us.

We stood in front of the fridge and stared at my handwritten quote on the magnet I’d just placed there. I hoped he understood what I meant by it. I hoped he knew that I was talking about him. That he was the best thing that had ever happened to me.

“Why are you leaving it here?” he asked.

I shrugged. “Maybe one day someone will book this room, see that message, and those words might be exactly what they need to see. Maybe they’ll smile after reading it. Maybe a smile is all they’ll need to keep them going.”

“You got another one?”

I reached into my bag and pulled out a blank magnet and a red pen. He smiled when he took it from my hands. Then he leaned on the counter, wrote on the magnet, and stuck it right next to mine.

When life gives you melons, you might be dyslexic.

“It’s a giant peach,” he said.

I leaned back against the car and looked at the roadside water-tower attraction. “I know, how cool is it?”

“I don’t think cool is the right word.” He tilted his head to the side. “I don’t know that there is a word to describe it.”

“I think it’s cool.”

“I think it’s odd that I can’t stop staring at it.”

I laughed. “I think you secretly think it’s cool.”

“I think the word cool is outdated.”

I turned my back on the giant peach and stood in front of him. “I think you’re outdated.”

He peered down at me from under the brim of his Duke cap. “I’ll outdate you.” He pulled my shirt until I was flush against him. Then he lowered his head toward mine.

My eyes shut.

I waited for his lips to touch mine.

But they never did.

I opened my eyes.

He was gazing over my head. “I can’t stop staring at the giant peach.”

When we had left the hotel that morning, he’d asked if he could negotiate some terms with me. I’d told him that it was our trip, not just mine, and negotiations weren’t needed. He had three requests: (1) an endless supply of lollipops, (2) we drive for only two hours at a time before stopping, and (3) we drive no more than six hours a day.

We found somewhere to stay a few hours away. I didn’t exactly know where we were, and it didn’t really matter. Where he was—that was where I wanted to be.

The first thing he did when we walked into the room was look for the balcony doors. He slid them open and stepped outside. I made us coffee and followed after him. His legs were already kicked out, and he was waiting for me take my spot on his lap. He smiled sadly when I did.

“Are you okay, Blake?”

“Yeah, why?”

“You always get sad at the end of the day.”

“I’m that obvious, huh?”

I turned to face him. “Is something wrong? Are you homesick?”

He laughed. “No. I’m not homesick. It’s just another day over. That’s all. I hate it—counting them down and knowing our days are limited.”

“I know.” I forced a smile. “So what do we do?”

“Nothing,” he sighed. “I’m just being grumpy.” He positioned me so I sat sideways on him. “And this is gonna sound really stupid, but I miss you.”

I chuckled. “You miss me? How? I’m with you all the time.”

“I know! I told you it would sound dumb, but I do miss you. We’re always in the car or eating somewhere. And I feel like I’m sharing you with The Road, and I just want you all to myself, and it makes me feel selfish because this was your thing.” His words were rushed. “But I miss you. I just want to talk to you, and only you, like we did all the times at your mom’s lake. Or on your swing seat.” He sucked in a breath. “I’m sorry. It’s stupid that I feel like this.”

“It’s not stupid.” And it wasn’t. I felt the same way, but I didn’t know how to voice it. Blake—he always had the words. “We can stay here for a few days. It’s nice and quiet. We don’t have to do anything. Just lock ourselves away from the rest of the world.”

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Maybe that wasn’t what he’d meant.

“I mean—if you want to,” I added. “I’d like that, just you and me. But it’s cool if you—”