“I was bored.”
There it is.
“You want to work on living life, Zoe?” I ask.
There’s a pause, a long one while I wait for her to answer once again. And then she sighs, tipping her chin toward a sign for a rest area at the next exit.
“Let’s go get some junk food and eat in the car.”
And it’s small—infinitesimal, really—but it’s a win.
TWELVE
I’D LIE
-ZOE-
“I’m gonna run to the bathroom first, okay?” I say to Zander as we walk into the big rest area. “I want to wash my face and whatnot.” He smiles at me and nods.
“I’ll be here, grabbing snacks and drinks.”
I fight the urge to tell him not to pick anything that is too messy, instead walking back to the bathroom with my toiletries bag in my purse and trying not to let my mind stay on our strange situation for too long.
I fail, of course.
I fail hard.
Because what on Earth is happening right now?
How has my life changed so drastically in just a week?
In eighteen hours, even.
And what the hell is Zander’s plan?
My mind flits through a million and seven things he could be working toward, and none of them feel right, except for one that I will never let my mind sit on too long.
What if his plan is me?
What if he is finally being the brave one and jumping on the first time I can remember when we’re both single? What if he saw an opportunity, and he’s making a break for it?
It couldn’t be that, I think as I wash my hands, staring into the mirror. The hair around my hairline is going curly again. My regular blowout is not built for humidity and salt air, but I’ll have to worry about that later.
Because as I dry my hands, all I can think about is what Zander said when we waited for the sunrise.
“Why did we never work, Zo?”
“You good?” Zee has three stuffed plastic bags on his arms.
“What’s that?” I ask, confused, tipping my chin to the bags.
“Provisions. You good?”
I glare at him. “You got all of that while I was in the bathroom?”
“No idea what you were doing in there for fifteen minutes.”
Having a mental breakdown, I think to myself.
Zander just smiles.
“I want to get a coffee,” I say, rummaging in my purse to grab my wallet.
“Got it,” he says, turning to where he has two coffees sitting on a shelf—one hot, one iced.
He hands me the iced one.
I stare at it like it might bite me if I accept it.
“Take it, Zo,” he says. “Let’s get on the road.”
“What is it?”
“What?”
“What is it? I’m very particular—”
“Upside-down caramel macchiato with almond milk.” I blink once, twice. “Though the barista chick informed me that an upside-down macchiato is just a latte.”
I stare at him again.
“Are you ready to go, Zoe?” He’s looking at me like he doesn’t understand what’s going on, doesn’t understand why I’m so confused.
To be fair, I also have no idea what’s going on.
But I guess that’s all part of his plan. So instead of arguing, I just nod, grabbing the coffee he somehow knew exactly how I would order and heading back to the car, confused but refusing to even ask.
Because I decided in the bathroom that while we’re on this trip, I’m going to go with the flow. Not something I do well or even like doing, but it feels right in this situation.
And Zander feels like the right person to do it with.
“These are yours,” Zander says once we get settled in the car after he drives over to the gas pump part of the rest area. He hands me one of the three bags, and I stare at it like it might bite.
“What is it?”
“Jesus, Zoe, just take it.” I do, the bag dipping with the unexpected weight. He reaches for the door once he lets go, hopping out and stopping only when I call his name.
“What are you doing?” Again, he looks at me like I’m insane, tipping his chin to the gas pumps.
“Gotta fill the tank, babe.”
Ignore it, my mind tells my heart when it flips with the name.
“Just . . . wait,” I say, tipping my head toward the little stand where the attendant stands.
He smiles big, that one he makes when he thinks Luna or I am being slightly dumb and he knows he’ll be able to use it against us for eternity.
Oh fuck.
“We’re not in Jersey anymore, pip. Gotta pump your own gas here.”
“Oh,” I say, looking over and remembering. I’ve never needed to fill up in the city because my car was never with me, and anytime it was, I filled up in Jersey since it was usually cheaper.
“Wanna learn?” he asks, grabbing the pump and holding it up.
I kind of do.
But the bag in my lap is begging me for attention, and honestly, I’m kind of embarrassed already, so instead, I shake my head.
“No, not this time.” He just smiles and nods, slamming the door and leaving me with my music and this bag.
But I almost regret it when I start to look through it.
Magazines.
Home design and decor magazines. Four of them.
My fingers tremble just a hair as I open one, flipping through to see this year's trends, what colors are expected to be popular in the next four years, and what’s “out.”
My mind goes to the MASH card, to the days when I thought this was my destiny.
When I’d clip pictures and make mood boards and bring them to my mom. When she’d smile and take me to the store so I could redo my room or the living room or the sitting room for the fifth time.
Before reality and common sense and “safe careers” were even on my radar.
I’m still lost in thought when Zee hops back in.
“Ready?” he asks, looking at me.
He doesn’t even see that my hands are still slightly shaking.
“What are these?”
“Uh, magazines?” he asks, turning the key in the ignition.
“I know they’re magazines, Zander. I’m not an idiot,” I say with a roll of my eyes. “I mean, why did you get them?”
“Because the book you’re reading looks so fucking boring, it’s putting me to sleep.”
“What? No, it’s not. It’s very interesting,” I lie. “It’s about how to add habits into your life to become more productive.”
“Right there. That’s your fuckin’ problem,” he says with a shake of his head.
“Excuse me?”
“That’s your problem. You’re so damn worried about being productive and creating habits and routine that you’ve forgotten how to live life.”
“I have not. I—”
“What do you do for fun, Zoe?” he asks, hands on the wheel but looking at me.
I stare back.
“I—” I start, but then my mind blanks.
What do I do for fun?
“I—” I try again but come up blank again.