he's got a lot to learn about the world beyond his screens. she's willing to show him the golden beaches and every secret corner of the city she loves. they just have to work out how they're going to survive when his existence is a secret from publi...
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IT'S A THREE HOUR drive from Orlando to Miami. It's three hours Clay won't get back. He's seriously regretting letting Nick coerce him into this little adventure.
"You have the chance to go all the time. I've never been to Miami. Let's just go for the day, we'll go early and you can choose when we leave."
It's hard to say no to his younger friend. Nick has this terribly effective way of getting Clay to do what he wants. He'll start pouting and ( even though he knows Nick is only joking ) Clay just can't say no. It's been that way since they were in middle school. Nick's skill at persuasion has only improved over the years of their friendship.
That's how he's now stuck filling up his car at a shady gas station in the middle of southern Florida. The sun is hot, more than he's ever felt in the middle of December. Nick is completely oblivious to the strange vibes of the rundown station. Clay can see him beyond the square glass of the concession shop. The glass is graying, years of car exhaust and cigarette smoke tinting it a dismal shade. The shabby look didn't deter Nick from striding inside and gathering an armful of snacks.
He almost drops a bottle of Coca Cola on his way out. Clay shakes his head and smiles. He has to hide the expression from Nick. If he sees it, Nick will start yelling. It's just how he is.
They still have an hour to drive. Clay checks the GPS on his phone. The end point still seems so far away.
"You know, I was going to stream today," he remarks as Nick spills the packages of snacks across the passenger seat.
"Really? What were you going to stream?"
"Dunno, didn't really have time to plan it out. Got interrupted."
"Oh but this is worth it. Day with the kid, am I right?"
"Sure," Clay rolls his eyes. Nick shoves the snacks onto the floor by his feet. Clay holds out his hand and he starts his car.
"Pass me the Sprite."
"I was gonna drink that," Nick complains.
"Fine, then the Coke. I'm not picky."
Nick hands him the bottle. Clay takes one sip before letting the car roll forward and out of the gas station. His phone reroutes for a second before it points them in the direction of Miami. Nick opens his window. The air is drowning out Clay's music and the GPS, but the warmth it lets in isn't so bad. He can almost imagine that there's already a salty taste to the air.
Seventy-five degrees and humid. There isn't a cloud in the forecast for days. This is an exceptionally well-tempered week for December. Nick couldn't have picked a better time to visit Miami. Besides the summer, of course.
"We can call George when we get to the beach."
"I didn't tell him we were going," Clay admits. He doesn't know why. It's not like George had been asleep when they left. Well, knowing George, he might've actually been sleeping. You could never tell with their group. They were either awake at four a.m. or sleeping until three p.m. Sleep schedules were a bit chaotic for them.
