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“Give me one,” he says.

I do, and our fingers brush. Heat, like the brewing of an electric storm, moves through my arm.

Today, I’m less afraid of how this ends.

We’re both quiet for the next few hours. He plays through his music, then switches to mine. Honestly, there’s not a big difference, except I have a lot more pop on mine. For lunch, we find a taco stand and eat parked beneath a tree. I check my phone now and then, but mostly, I’ve been locking it in the glove box. After last night, I don’t have the bandwidth to argue with Dad right now.

Talking about it with Coen resurfaced a lot of forgotten anger.

I just need a minute.

“You good to keep driving?” he asks when we’re done.

“Yeah, I guess.”

There must be something in my voice, maybe I sound a little tired, because he considers me.

“What about we find somewhere to spend the night and call it a day?” he says.

Surprised, I study him. “Why? You trying to get me into bed again?” I tease.

“Maybe.” The corner of his mouth twitches. “Maybe I’m just…not ready to be home.”

His voice dips, rough and tired.

“Yeah,” I say decisively. “Let’s find somewhere really different.”

“Like where?”

He navigates onto the road. I dig in the glove box and take my phone out. Thankfully, nobody has texted me.

“I read online about this clown hotel,” I say. “Maybe someplace cool like that.”

“Absolutely not.”

Grinning, I shift in my seat to face him and lean against the door. In a fit of daring, I slide my bare feet across the seat. He doesn’t blink. He just slides his hand up my leg and cradles my calf.

Oh God, I think I’m wet just from that.

“What? You don’t like clowns?”

“Do you like clowns?”

“I like scary movies, but maybe staying in a clown-themed motel is a bit far.” I shrug, swiping my phone and going to the maps app. “I’m willing to bend on that idea a little bit.”

He laughs. It’s hard to focus on the screen when his fingers are trailing over my bare skin, but I manage to search for hotels and motels. About an hour and a half away, there’s a vintage-style motel with a theme park attached. That’s different, but I’m willing to give different a try. After all, isn’t that the whole point of road tripping? Trying new things?

“I found this place,” I say.

“What’s it called?”

“The Big Bayside Beach Boutique.”

He laughs, and I do too, but I’m being dead serious. “Wait, what?”

“That’s what it says.” I flip the phone around to show him.

“That place looks like a hoot.”