As O’Brien turns my way with puzzled eyes, I sink further into my seat.
Most Eligible Bachelor?
He’s single?
Sanity suddenly pushes away that sliver of hope. The title of ‘eligible bachelor’ means absolutely nothing. That doesn’t exclude him from having a girlfriend, it just means he doesn’t have a wife.
If I thought so before, he is most definitely out of my league now. I feel the pang of insignificance throughout my body. I’m now cursing the same pair of shorts I was just grateful for seconds ago.
Why did I wear these frayed Daisy Dukes and this ratty ass tank underneath this goofy ass sweater? I look like a hot mess sitting next to such perfection.
“Tell me… Is he hotter in person than in his pictures?” Blair prods.
I close my eyes in defeat. “I haven’t been online. I don’t have a phone, remember?”
“That’s right. Then tell me this. From a scale of one to blazing, how hot is he? I’ll understand if you can’t be as candid since he’s driving right now. By the way—it’s really loud there. Are all the windows down?”
Blair is behaving like a giddy schoolgirl. It’s both fascinating and frustrating at the same time. “We’re in a convertible,” I tell her. “What kind of car is this again?” I ask, now addressing Drew.
“Lancia Flaminia Cabriolet. The 1961 model,” he calls out over the wind.
“Did you hear that?” I speak into the phone.
“Holy shit—even his voice is hot!”
I groan. “Girl, you don’t even know the half of it,” I mutter under my breath.
“Damn…he’s that sexy?!”
I twist my body as far to the right and away from him as it can go. “It’s ridiculous. Words can’t even describe. I’m fucking losing my mind here,” I hiss discreetly. I try my damnedest to speak directly into the microphone. Although I can’t see him from this angle, I’m certain he knows I’m talking shit about him to my bestie.
“For fuck’s sake, I hope you strike gold on this road trip. At least kiss him or something,” Blair laughs heartily.
If only.
“Hey, do you have a pen handy?” I ask, ignoring her statement.
“Yeah.”
I call out Drew’s license plate number to Blair, and when I’m done, she laughs.
“Did you let her know the color of my vehicle as well?”
I spin around and catch O’Brien appearing amused.
I giggle. “It’s like a pewter gray,” I tell Blair.
Drew chuckles quietly.
“If he abducts you, I am going to be so fucking jealous,” she groans. I hold back a laugh. “I can’t wait to see your face, Waverly. I’m so ready to leave Bend and meet you in paradise tomorrow.”
“I’m kinda getting excited about it,” I say sincerely.
“Good. Give me a call when you get closer. You might even beat me there.”
“I doubt it. This interstate detour is the pits.”
“If you do happen to get there first, the house key is on the back deck inside the lockbox. I’ll text you the code. By the way, you’ll have to go past security in order to enter. My dad’s house is in a private community. I’ll give the guard desk the car and plate information you just gave me.”
“Sweet.”
“Who knows, maybe McHottie will want to stick around at the beach house. I don’t mind playing third fiddle. These next couple of weeks are all about you, my dear.”
“I don’t know about that,” I sigh. I catch his eyes narrow as they remain focused on the road. I disregard his eavesdropping, which was inevitable anyway being that we’re in such close proximity. “He’s headed to Salinas for a meeting once he drops me off.”
“Drat,” Blair whines.
“I’ve gotta go,” I say in a huff. The silence from Drew is causing my gut to twist. I need to bring this awkward two-way convo to a quick end.
“Okay. Safe travels, cupcake,” Blair sings.
“Will do.”
I end the call and place the phone back in the glovebox.
“Well—that was interesting,” Drew remarks with mirth.
I feel my cheeks blush. “My friend looked you up after you sent her your card.”
“As she should have.”
“West Coast’s Most Eligible Bachelor, huh?” I tease. When a look of annoyance smears across his face, my stupid grin washes clear away.
Watch it, Waverly. You don’t want to get dropped off in the middle of no-fucking-where and left behind.
Although the sky is still illuminated, the sun’s slumber is imminent when we cross into Shasta County. Drew pulls into a gas station for the first time since leaving Weed.
“I wasn’t at a full tank when I stopped at the café, so I think it’s best we fuel up now before it gets dark and we get too far away from civilization.”
I nod in agreement. As he parks at a pump, a big billboard located perpendicular from the station catches my eye.
Large Junk Art Sculptures
As Drew exits to get gas, I climb out to stretch my legs and walk over to his side of the car to get a better look at the sign. I tug nervously on the frayed seams of my shorts. I happen to catch his eyes on my thighs. A foreign feeling shoots up through me. As if remembering himself, he turns his attention back to the numbers scrolling fast on the pump before he takes notice of the large billboard advertising the junk art exhibit. His delight doesn’t go unnoticed.
“You wanna go check it out before we head back on the road?”
My eyes grow wide. “Sure.”
“You need to use the restroom or anything?”
“No.” I shake my head.
The pump clicks, and he places the nozzle back into its holster. “I’ll have to run inside real fast. Do you need anything?” He points towards the gas station’s small convenience store.
“No, thank you.”
Less than five minutes later, I’m back in the car as he returns, carrying a large paper bag in one arm. He gestures a bottle of water at me. It looks so cold and refreshing as it sweats in his hands. I nod and hold my hands out to catch it. He tosses it inside of the topless car, and it falls right into my hands.
“Great catch,” he remarks.
He saunters to the rear, pops open the trunk, and stores his paper bag before getting back in the car to drive the one-mile over to the junk art attraction.
It’s nearly forty-five minutes ‘til dusk as Drew and I witness a handful of families gleefully posing for photos in front of odd-looking monstrosities. These junk sculptures are part of an exhibit located in the middle of nowhere. If we weren’t off the beaten path, I would’ve never known of its existence.
As Drew and I stroll the grounds side by side, I am amused when I see what can only be described as a cross between a piranha and a beagle chasing the tail of Dumbo. I soon realize that the jagged-tooth-fish-looking-dog thing is actually made out of a Dodge Neon. I’m astonished.
“What?” Drew says, stopping cold in his tracks to study me instead of the odd sculpture.
“That’s the same car as mine. The one that broke down today.”