The Senior Trip

Chapter 40

ASHER

            This has been an adventure of extremes. I've gone from broken-hearted to full of joy, we've walked in the blistering heat and now we're under the cool rain. Things are moving and changing so fast I can barely keep up.

            The house is packed when we make it inside. Even if we wanted to try our luck walking back to the school trip, it wasn't going to happen tonight. The dancefloor was floating in a pool of water and I can't even imagine what the roads look like under these conditions. Tonight we have to stay here, and I'm not even mad about it.

            "Looks like we are here for the night," I say as I set her feet down in the small kitchen we've managed to escape to.

            "I'm sorry," Harper says. Her warm, wet body still pressed against mine as she gets her footing.

            "Sorry for what?" I ask, wiping the rain water from my eyes.

            "That we can't get back sooner," she answers.

            "Did you personally call the rain gods and request a performance?" I ask sarcastically.

            "Ok, ok. But it still sucks," she replies.

            "Of all the things that suck, this is pretty far down on the list," I answer.

            The woman who has been so gracious hands us a fresh towel. She motions for us to go up to the room. I try to explain that we can just sleep on the couch and not take a room, but it's no use. We make our way to the room upstairs, watching from the staircase as family and friends say goodbye to the newly married couple.

            The room we are given is small, but very quant. The bedding is clearly handsewn, and the pictures around the room are all signed by the same artist. I wonder if it's a family member.

            "Now what?" Harper asks, spinning slowly to take everything in.

            "We sleep. In a warm bed tonight. As much as I loved those dirt and grass beds we've been finding ourselves in, this sounds like heaven."

            "Then tomorrow we will try to get back," she says adamantly.

            "Maybe," I tell her. "Or maybe we wait until Friday to catch the bus." I'm not in a rush.

            "We'll get you back," she insists. I let her comment go without addressing it. Nothing has gone the way we thought it would this trip, I'm not saying out loud to the universe that she and I are going to do anything because as soon as I have it set in my mind, the universe will swoop it right out of my grip. We'll get back before our plane leaves Saturday morning and that is all I'm guaranteeing myself. The rest is up to fate.

            "Did you ever jump in puddles when you were little?" I ask instead. I move to help brush her wet hair off her face.

            "No. Puddles are chaotic. Some are deep, some are shallow. Some are clear and others are full of mud and are all gross." She chatters on in a way that I've grown to love over the last few days. Her thoughts are many in a short sentence and I can't help but chuckle at her seriousness.

            Her hands find the bottom of my completely soaked shirt. "What about you?" she asks. "Are you a puddle jumper?"

            "Every chance I get. I love that chaos. I love the adventure of it. The way I never know what's coming next, but it's always a good time." I can feel her hands tugging at the hem of the shirt, mindlessly pulling as she takes in my words. "You remind me of puddles."

            "Perhaps it's because I'm soaking wet and carrying about five pound extra of water at the moment," she says trying to break the spell between us.

            "Oh, it's for sure because you are soaking wet." I let my hand fall to the bottom of her dress. "But also because I'm drawn to you. In all the chaos you look like a safe place to be me."

            Harper's hands stop moving. She looks up into my eyes. "Always," is all she says. It's all the validation that I need.

            Her lip begins to quiver from the cold, wet clothing. "We should get you out of these," I say innocently.

            "That's a great line," she replies back sarcastically. "Does it work on all the girls?" And just like that the spell between us is broken. I know why she's doing it. She's protecting herself. I may be safe with her, but she isn't safe with me. She knows my heart isn't totally free. I wish that weren't the case, but she isn't wrong. I have some unfinished business and it's not fair to rope her into it.

            "I've only tried it on one and it's not looking very promising," I answer.

            "We don't have anything to change into." She shivers as she looks around the room. Our towels are wet from earlier so those aren't an option and the clothes we are wearing are completely soaked.

            I reach for the switch on the wall beside me and the room falls into complete darkness.

            "What are you doing?" She whispers as if it is a requirement of a dark room.

            I whisper back because it's funny. "Turning off the light. Why are we whispering?"

            In the darkness I'm attacked. Not really, but she slaps my chest playfully and says, "You're an ass."

            "I was testing the level of darkness." I switch the light back on. "I couldn't see shit, could you?"

            "No..."

            Click. Lights off again. "Ok I'll close my eyes just in case, but you get undressed first."

            "I am not getting naked!" She replies.

            Click. Lights on. Her hand is on the switch with mine. She is acting angry or shocked, even, but the smile tugging at her lips is telling me she isn't threatened by my terrible idea. It's honestly the only option besides sleeping in wet clothes.

            "Suit yourself," I say. Click. Lights off. "But I'm not sleeping in wet clothing. Keep your eyes closed you peeper. I'm getting undressed and then I'll take just the comforter. You and your wet clothing can stay unde3r all the blankets."

            When she hears the bed creek, she clicks the lights back on. "Seriously?" she asks. And this time there's some honesty in her apprehension.

            "I'm an honest man. I'm staying above the sheets." I plaster my hands at my sides in a gesture that says they are staying right there. All to myself.

            Click. Lights off. "Fine. But stay above my sheets."

            It takes a minute to hear the creek of the bed dipping as she climbs inside, her wet clothes at the foot of the bed with mine.