The Senior Trip

Chapter 44

Asher

Breathe. I have to remind myself. I've traveled a lot in my life. I've been to most states in the US and traveled abroad over the summers of my youth, but I've never wanted to be somewhere as much as I want to be here right now. It's not snowy mountain tops, presidents cut into rock, caverns stretching into beautiful underground cities of stalagmites, or even crystal-clear beaches on a foreign coast, but it's her.

My fingers float across her soft skin, and I know I could stay here like this all day, learning every curve her body makes. Of course the damn covers are helping to keep that a mystery, but I know it's for the best that I can't look at all of her because then I'd have to convince her not to leave this room at all. It wouldn't be such a bad thing if I didn't know she was starving. Something weird happens when I'm around her. I want to take care of her. It's not that she can't take care of herself, at the beginning of this trip you could even say she was doing that AND taking care of me, but I want to watch her smile. I'd do anything for that.

"I think our clothes are probably dry," I tell her, as her hand on my chest draws circles absently.

"Yea, it's pretty hot in here," she laughs. Harper rolls onto her bag, securing the blankets beneath her arms careful not to be exposed.

"I was thinking the same." Did I just lift my brows? Yes, I did. I chuckle. "Let's get dressed and head into town. I should also offer the owner some cash for the room."

"I have some too. We shouldn't need much more if we only have a few days left. I'll pitch in," she says, looking to where her small purse is sitting on the corner chair.

"I can't believe we don't have our phones," I say.

"I can't believe I've barely noticed it's gone," she answers.

She's right. I haven't reached for it at all. There might have been a few times I would have loved to take a picture, but having the escape from social media has been amazing. It's like the detox I didn't know that I needed.

"I wonder what everyone is posting on their stories," she says.

Suddenly I remember what's happening outside our little bubble. Jessica. I wonder if she's posted her usual overshare of pictures and I'm curious who is trying to slide into her DMs. My stomach lurches deep into my body. I feel humiliated. I gave everything to that relationship and it ended so suddenly with a warning.

"Sorry," Harper says quietly. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"I'm not upset," I reply quickly, possibly too quickly.

"Mmmhmm," she says, followed by a soft giggle. "Not bothered at all. Your jaw just ticks on its own."

I sigh, closing my eyes and rolling onto my back. When I open them again, I focus my attention on the light coming in from the window making shapes above me on the ceiling.

"Ok," I admit, "how about I'd like to not be upset."

"I'll buy that," she answers. "Maybe it's best we can't see. Prolong the inevitable so it doesn't ruin our day."

"Some sort of cosmic intervention," I joke.

"Some sort of cosmic mercy," she revises.

"I think I saw that band play last summer."

Both of us turn our faces to each other and I can't help but laugh. And now we are back, in the present and together. I love that about us. Nothing knocks us off our game for very long. It's as if we have years of friendship together and have no problem finding our way back to the tracks of the relationship. We work.

"I imagine it as a rock band, but with a twist. Like maybe they used to be a punk band but now they play shows in church basements so they have to clean it up," she says and then laughs at her own joke.

"Or maybe the lead singer was going through a tragic break-up and now all of his songs are about his ex. His band plays along because they don't want to hurt him by breaking it up, but secretly the all roll their eyes when he comes up with new lyrics," I say.

Now we are both laughing. Imagining some washed up band in a basement somewhere, the lead singer wallowing in his failed relationship.

"Maybe," she starts but is laughing too hard, "Maybe he gets drunk and points to people in the crowd trying to get them to sing along, but no one ever knows what he's going to sing."

"Or maybe," I say after a long laugh, "we have been wrong all along and the band is named that because it has two singers and they are in love." I take a second to calm down my laugh. "Maybe she's a wild flower child and fell in love with a punk star and now they create music that's a mix of hippie and rock."

"That's it," she exclaims, "I'm having t-shirts made as soon as I can."

"Put me down for one," I insist.

"You've got it," she says.

We stay in the sun for a minute, exchanging random giggles at the thought and it dawns on me that this must be what teens from years ago did to pass time. No zoning out looking at a screen, but talking and communicating until some sort of misstep or mishap took place that lead to the gold of relationships—an inside joke. Yes, I know that it happens now, but think of all the opportunities for this we miss when watching the word through a small screen. Now the jokes are shared across many people and while that's amazing and fun in itself, I kind of love that we have our own thing, sacred to just the two of us.

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