ROADTRIP ME
"It's cold AF," Lauren says when she stops beside me.
"It is January. Welcome to the Northeast," I smirk.
The air feels subzero and the wet breeze creeping off the ocean isn't helping. I smell what's left of low tide and hate that I don't hate it. I tilt my head back to see a starless sky.
"Shotty," Brody calls reaching the truck after Brooks.
"Keep dreamin'," Brooks scoffs at his brother. He winks at me and I roll my eyes.
"Fine," Brody says gruffly, holding the door open in front of me. "Your chariot awaits."
"Thanks bae," I smile, sidestepping Brody and jumping into the passenger seat.
It smells different than earlier, like allspice and some kind of tree. I see a tiny pinecone shaped air freshener hanging from the gear lever.
"Too much?" Brooks asks, flicking the air freshener with his pointer finger.
"And somehow not enough. I love it."
"Good. You two ready?" Brooks asks the backseat occupants. His eyes dart to the rearview mirror.
"Yup!" Lauren beams.
"Sure," Brody echos.
I swivel in my seat and eye them up, already cozied together under an afghan blanket. Brody is wearing a flannel, like Brooks. He's like some baby-faced lumberjack with his 2 o'clock shadow. Lauren somehow looks ready to hit a runway with her sweater dress, leggings, thigh-highs, and topknot. She's in for a rude awakening.
Lauren catches me mid-day dream and I smirk.
"Hands. I wanna see them at all times," I say, laughing through a forced stern tone.
Brody rolls his eyes at me, shaking his head.
I turn back in my seat, back to Brooks. He's wearing a flannel like Brody, but it's darker –burgundy and an almost black navy. His 5 o'clock shadow is nearing 8 PM. I realize it's the longest I've ever seen it. My fingers reach across the center console, tucking a piece of his long hair behind his ear, admiring the way it curls under.
Brooks takes my hand away, but keeps hold of it. Small gesture, but I'm into it. He's been a different person since I confessed those three little words earlier, like a weight's been lifted off his shoulders.
"We need gas." Brooks mutters, eyes flickering to the orange fuel light on the dash.
"And snacks," Lauren adds.
"We just ate," Brody says.
"Can't road trip without snacks. That's just sad," I say, agreeing with Lauren.
"OK. Gas and snacks. There's a spot right up here," Brooks says.
We approach a small intersection down some back road I haven't been on in years. There's a single light hanging from the traffic sign. The red light flickers dimly. The truck squeals beneath us as Brooks turns into the bumpy lot.
"Let's get the goods," Lauren says. She pushes open the back door and hops to the ground, landing perfectly in her heels.
"Right behind ya," I shout through her open door. I turn to Brooks. "Want anything?"
"I'm good," he says, bringing my knuckles to his lips.
I slide from the front seat and fall in line next to Lauren as we make our way across the uneven parking lot. I wonder what my worn jeans and sweatshirt look like next to her sweater dress. At least this terrain is easier to navigate in my duck boots.
A bell on the door chimes when we enter the corner convenient store. Lauren sets out, picking things up at random and stacking in high in her arms. I follow her around, scrunching my nose at the cheese balls and giving a thumbs up to the sunflower seeds.
"Soda? Water? Pick your poison." Lauren's face is in the cold drink section.
"Water is fine. I'll get it. You're running out of space," I laugh, looking at her leaning tower of snacks.
"I'm running out of hands," she laughs back.
"Let me help." I reach for the top items. Chips and pretzels, cookies & cream candy, and a pack of jerky. I wonder if Lauren always eats like this. She rolls her eyes at me looking, like she can read my mind.
"It's my road trip diet. Plus some snacks for the weekend," she says, holding up a pack of M&Ms.
"Right." I nod.
"Girl, I'm so glad you're here. I mean, when Brody told me about the weekend I was excited but I hardly know anyone else. Besides Brooks. And I met Trix last week." Lauren rambles more to herself than to me.
"I'm glad I'm here too. Believe me." I stress the word.
"Oh I do," she grins, winking.
We dump our groceries onto the counter. Lauren chats up the clerk and I let my eyes wander through the scratched windows. They wander to the truck, which is empty. Brooks and Brody stand beside it. Brooks is holding the gas pump and Brody is laughing, his eyes crinkling in the corner just like Brooks's.
"We're good. Lez go!" Lauren pulls two plastic bags off the table. She whisks past me and I follow her fragrant perfume out the door.
"Shit, did you get enough?" Brody laughs taking the bags from Lauren.
"Cleaned 'em out." I nod.
"OK. Roadtrip me!" Lauren says, climbing into the backseat.
"Roadtrip you?" I repeat, raising an eyebrow.
"Yea. Like I'm ready." She starts on the jerkey.
Brooks hangs up the pump and clambers into the driver's side. I'm the last one in. The musky sweet smell of allspice and pine engulfs me once again. Holy heat. It must be 90 degrees in here.
"Toasty, right?" Brooks asks, grinning.
"A sauna."
My sweater catches on my ponytail. I hear Brooks laughing at me before he helps pull it over my head. I rearrange my waffle-knit thermal and toss my sweatshirt on the floor by my feet.
Brooks pulls out of the pothole-riddled parking lot and reaches for my hand, his new favorite thing to hold when he drives. I gladly oblige.
The first three hours soar by almost as fast as Brooks is driving. Brody, on playlist duty, connected his phone to a Bluetooth speaker. It's been one indie folk tune after the next, not counting our jam mesh to Steve Miller Band's Joker. I'm not complaining. Lauren talked about ideas for the wedding and Brody agreed with everything she suggested. I once again find myself jealous of how normal their relationship is. How on-track it is.
My phone buzzes against my lap.
s'mores goods PLZ
5 mins out
"Trix wants us to get stuff for s'mores," I say, looking at my bright screen. It's casting weird shadows across the dashboard. "They're five minutes away."
"We can stop," Brooks mumbles, his eyes darting to the clock on the radio. "Just under an hour left."
"Next exit?" I ask, gazing out the window.
We are surrounded on both sides by tall, rocky slopes, like this stretch of road was carved right through a mountain. An endless road stretched ahead of us, dark in the absence of streetlights. Snow is already spotting the ground, more and more the farther north we go.
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