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“Something on your mind, Parker?” I asked as I settled into bed beside him.
“Nothing.” He quietly shook his head. “It’s just the way you said tomorrow.”
“Yeah?”
“You said it like I live down the street or something,” Parker murmured. “Like we’re next-door neighbors. It’s not… always going to be this easy, Nicholas. And even if it could be…”
Parker shook his head again, like he was trying to clear his mind. “Shit. Sorry. I don’t know what I’m talking about right now. Practical, right? We’re supposed to keep this practical.”
He offered me a thumbs up before he turned over in bed. “Goodnight, Nicholas.”
“Goodnight, Parker,” I said, even though I wanted nothing more than to continue the conversation, to get Parker’s attention by shaking his shoulder or pulling him back into my arms. That one little word from earlier flew right back into my brain, desperate to edge its way out of my mouth, desperate for me to tell Parker the truth of how I was feeling even if it blew up everything between us.
Desperate for me to tell Parker that I was falling for him…
And I was falling hard.
15
PARKER
Dear Diary—
Dear Journal?—
Dear OhMyGodWhatIsHappeningInMyLifeRightNow?—
The made-for-TV movie is heading straight toward tragedy. After last night, I’m sorry to report that I’m officially falling for a guy who has no intention of keeping things going between us once I’m out of sight and out of mind. At least, in good news, he told me that he doesn’t like to lie to people about that sort of thing, so when it’s time to cut me loose I’ll know that I’m being cut loose for good?
Good news is supposed to feel like a knife through the heart, right?
I just seriously have no idea what I’m supposed to do. The only thing running through my mind is forcing this car over to the side of the road and trying to shake a confession out of him. There’s no way he’s not feeling what I’m feeling, is there? There’s no way I’m really the only person falling alone…
Unless I was right about the whole tragedy thing then I guess this is just par for the course (what does this mean in golf language? Will look up later).
Fuck, diary/journal/thenamewillcometomeeventually…
I think I might really be in trouble here.
“What are you writing about?”
Nicholas’ question came from the driver side of the car, his hands relaxed against the wheel in front of him. I peeked up from my journal, taking in the scenery unfolding all around us as we drove down the road. Nicholas had pitched going on a hike this morning, somewhere he said would be breathtaking and scenic. I’d never heard of the exact location he’d mentioned but I was willing to take his word for it, my instincts always betting on the side of trusting him.
Although, if our current location was anything to judge the hiking spot by, it was already taking my breath away. The road ahead of us was nothing but trees and mountain, all the telltale signs of the city stripped away, not even a single billboard cluttering up our field of vision. The trees themselves seemed like they were reaching down to greet us, leafy branches stretched out toward the road and the sky both. I was quietly wishing that Nicholas’ truck had the kind of roof that came down, allowing me to have a moment with the wind blowing in my hair, my hands futilely reaching back up toward the trees, anything to get a feel for the nature that already surrounded us.
“Just about the trip.” It was a half-truth, my intention to chronicle the hiking trip itself next on my list of things to write down after having my emotional freak-out on the page.
“Good things, I hope?” Nicholas asked, his tone lined with genuine concern.
“Always.” I reassured him with a soft smile. I reached for one of the coffees he’d packed for us back at home, carefully sipping its still-a-little-too-warm contents out of a cozy thermos. There was apple cider, too, hanging out in the cupholders in the backseat, just as warm and just as waiting as the coffees. Nicholas had also packed a blanket for me, one that was currently sitting across my lap, a perfect space to hold my journal as I gave it a temporary rest.
Ugh.
Everything about the car right now was so blissfully domestic. The kind of blissfully domestic that it was dangerous to get attached to, the kind where things felt a little too perfect, a little too safe. Even though after last night, I knew that I would’ve been all too happy to buy into that kind of domestic bliss with Nicholas, something behind my chest yearning to be lost in it with him…
But I knew better than to fall for any of it if I didn’t want to end up with my heart torn up into tiny, little pieces.
“What’s in the backpack?” I asked, eager to distract myself from my current train of thought. “The one you threw in the back before we took off?”
