Where the Road Takes Me

by Jay McLean

  “Okay,” she said.

  But the air was still thick, and the mood was still sad. “Chloe?”

  “Mmm?” she said into my chest.

  I pulled back and lifted her chin with my finger. I made sure she was looking at me before I spoke. “I don’t ever want you to question this—the reason why I’m here—or whether I want to be here or not. Ever. I’m here because I want you. Because I’ve always wanted you.”

  Her breath became shaky. “Will you kiss me already?”

  I smiled. “You don’t ever have to question that, either.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Blake

  “Chloe,” I whispered in her ear. “Chloe. Chloe. Chloe.”

  I was bored. Edgy. Anxious.

  “Chloe.” I poked her cheek.

  Nothing.

  “Chloe.” I poked harder. “You sleep like the fucking dead.”

  That made her smile.

  “Oh cute, pretending to be asleep while I go out of my mind with boredom.”

  She sat up. “What the hell time is it?”

  I threw my hands up. “I don’t know. Time to get up. Let’s go.”

  We couldn’t find a Footlocker, so we ended up at a small sporting-goods store. I didn’t care, just as long as I got a decent pair of running shoes and some extra clothes. She walked around the store while I tried on different sneakers.

  “Babe!” she yelled out, and I couldn’t help but smile. “Did you want a basketball?”

  “Yeah, good thinking.”

  “There’s like eighty here. Which one?”

  “A Spalding twenty-nine and a half.”

  She laughed. “I have no idea what you just said.”

  Shaking my head, I made my way over to her.

  “What’s the difference?” she whispered.

  I picked up the Spalding. “This one’s a pro ball. Different material, sizes, grip.”

  “Oh.” She nodded but then shrugged. “I won’t remember that.” She turned her head, looking around the store. “You should get a skateboard, too,” she said. “We can skate together. How exciting.” She clapped her hands together. Then it dawned on me—that I’d never seen her like this. This happy. This free.

  “You mean I’ll skate, and you’ll roll?”

  “Hey.” She poked a single finger into my chest. “I’ve been getting better. You even said so. And now I can practice more since I have my own board.” Her eyes widened as she caught sight of something over my shoulder. “Go get the board and meet me at the counter. I need to get something.”

  I did as she asked and waited for her at the counter. After a couple of minutes, she was back, wearing a Duke cap too big for her head and holding a few jerseys. She took the cap off and set it on the counter, along with the three basketball jerseys. One blue, one black, and one white. All Duke. “What’s the difference?” she asked the sales clerk.

  I stayed silent, waiting for the moment. You know . . . that moment when something significant happens, but you don’t realize it until it’s over.

  “White’s home. Blue’s away. Black’s alternative,” the clerk answered.

  Her eyes moved from the clerk to me. But I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t form words. I could barely breathe.

  She shrugged. “I’ll take them all.”

  “Okay,” the clerk laughed.

  “Shit. And this.” She pulled out another cap from under her arm and reached up to put it over my head. Then she eyed me up and down, her head tilted to the side. “Oh!” she squealed, turning back to the clerk. “Do you have those little letters that go on the back?”

  “Yup,” he said, but his eyebrows were drawn in as he looked between us. “What name do you want?”

  “Hunter.”

  And there it was.

  That moment of significance.

  I put my arm around her shoulders, drew her into me, and kissed her forehead.

  “Number?” the clerk asked.

  “Twenty-three,” she said quickly, then looked up at me. “Wait. Do you change when . . . I mean if . . .”

  I nodded and opened my mouth to speak. Nothing came out. I cleared my throat. “Eight.” My voice broke. It felt like forever since I’d used it.

  “We can heat press the names and numbers here. You want it on all of them?”

  “Yes please,” she answered, but her eyes never left me. She pressed the front of her body against mine. “Are you okay?”

  I nodded once.

  Then the clerk cleared his throat. “You’re not Blake Hunter, are you?”

  My smiled was tight. “Yes, sir.”

  “So, Duke? I didn’t know. Was it announced?”

  “No, sir.”

  “You got a few offers, right?”

  Chloe pulled away. All the way away, until she was no longer touching me.

  I nodded. “A few.”

  Her eyes narrowed at me before she looked away.

  We paid and left the store, neither of us uttering a word. When we got in the car, I reached for her hand, but she pulled it away. I didn’t know what had happened between the store and now, but the mood had grown noticeably colder.

  “Chloe?” I said cautiously.

  “Blake.”

  “Chloe?”

  “Blake.”

  “Chloe?”

  “Just give me a minute,” she said. “I’m trying to think!”

  I sank into my seat. And I waited.

  “Blake?” she finally said.

  “Yes, Chloe?”

  She faced me. Then moved her eyes from side to side, as if she was about to share a huge secret. I sat up straighter and turned to her.

  “How big a deal are you?” she whispered.

  My lips curved into a smile.

  “This isn’t funny, Blake. I mean, I looked you up. I knew you were good, but that guy in that store—that you’ve probably never been to before—he knew you. That means you must be a somebody, right?”

  I shrugged.

  “Oh my God,” she mumbled under her breath. “And offers? It wasn’t just Duke?”

  I tried to contain my smile. She was so damn cute.

  “How many offers?”

  I shrugged again.

  “You’re not talking to me?”

  I shook my head. It wasn’t like earlier, when my emotions had gripped me, and the words hadn’t been there. I just liked messing with her and watching her get more nervous with each question.

  She squinted as she took me in. I didn’t know what she was looking for, but whatever it was, she must’ve found it, because her eyes went huge. “You’re like . . . a celebrity!”

  The notion was so crazy it made me laugh. “I’m not a celebrity!”

  “You are so!” She nodded frantically. “A sports celebrity!” Her hands covered the squeal that escaped her. “Oh my God.” She pushed open her door and stepped out of the car. “I’ve kidnapped a sports celebrity! I’m going to hell. Or worse. Jail.” She was pacing and rambling. “I’m going to sports jail. Where all the sports fans are going to throw rocks at the girl who stole their sports-celebrity-hero-god.”

  I dissolved in a fit of laughter.

  “This isn’t funny!” she yelled, but I couldn’t stop.

  When we got back to the hotel, I changed and went for a run. I asked her to come with me. She laughed in my face and told me that she’d rather poke herself in the eye with a pen than be seen running with a sports god.

  It was another quick run. I thought I’d be gone for ages, but the second after I’d left the hotel, I just wanted to get back to Chloe.

  “Your mom’s been calling. I think you need to . . .” Her words died in the air as she took me in. I had taken my shirt off midrun, because I was so sweaty. She’d seen me shirtless before but pr
obably not like this. She blushed and looked away, pretending to be engrossed with whatever was on TV.

  I took a seat next to her and started to take off my shoes. “Did you answer?”

  She pursed her lips and shook her head.

  “How many times did she call?”

  She shrugged, refusing to meet my eyes.

  I ran the back of my finger along her bare thigh, trying to get her attention. “What did you do while I was gone?”

  She stood up quickly. “Nothing. I’m making coffee. You want some?”

  I laughed under my breath. “Yeah. I’m just gonna shower real quick.”

  “I might um . . . go . . . I’ll be back . . . You shower.” Then she picked up her keys and left the room.

  And I couldn’t wipe the damn smile off my face.

  She must not have been gone for long, because by the time I’d finished my shower, she was back. Admittedly, I’d had a long shower. A nice, long, cold shower.

  I sat out on the balcony and dialed Mom’s number. “Blake?” she answered. She sounded pissed.

  Chloe came out with two coffees. She set them both on the table and started to walk away. I curled my arm around her waist and brought her down on my lap. She didn’t resist. “Hey, Ma.”

  “You didn’t come home last night. Your car is still at the bowling alley, and Josh won’t tell me what happened! Where the hell are you?”

  I frowned. “Don’t be mad.”

  “Never start a sentence with that, especially with your mother!”

  I switched the phone to speaker and placed it on the table. Chloe turned to me, biting her lip. She looked scared. I was scared. “I’ve kind of . . . left.”

  “Left!” she shrieked. “What do you mean, you’ve left?”

  “I’m with Chloe,” I said, as if it was a valid reason for my actions. “She was leaving, and I left with her. I had to. I’m sorry.”

  “HUNTER!” she screamed.

  We both flinched.

  But then she started to laugh. It started low, then built up to something she couldn’t control. I started to get worried. Maybe she was crazy. It wouldn’t surprise me—being cooped up in that guesthouse all day, making up stories could do that to a person, right?

  “Ma?”

  She laughed harder.

  Chloe tried to get up, but I held on to her tighter.

  Mom finally stopped laughing long enough to sigh. “Oh, Blake,” she said. “I’ve never been so damn proud of you in my life.”

  “What?” Chloe and I said at the same time.

  “Is that Chloe? Is she there?”

  “Yes, Mrs. Hunter, I’m here.”

  “Good,” she said. “I want to speak to both of you.”

  Chloe’s eyes went wide.

  “Okay?” I said.

  “Okay,” she repeated. I imagined her rolling her shoulders back, trying to calm herself down. “I need to wire some money to you. It might take a few days—”

  “No,” we both cut in.

  Then Chloe spoke over me. “We don’t need the money. I have enough.”

  “That’s rubbish.” Mom’s words were final. “I’m sitting on piles of it, and I have no use for it. I live in a guesthouse, for Christ’s sake. Blake, are you there? Blake!”

  “Yeah, Ma, I’m here.”

  “I’ll transfer you some money. Don’t let Chloe pay for everything. Be a gentleman, for God’s sake—” She paused, the kind of pause I knew meant she wasn’t done speaking. Her voice lowered when she asked, “Is she still driving that . . . antique convertible?”

  I couldn’t control my guffaw. “Yes.”

  “Right,” Mom said. You could hear her frantically typing away. “You’d better buy a new car.”

  “No!” Chloe yelled. “You can’t—”

  “Chloe,” Mom said. “If your car breaks down and you guys get stuck in the middle of nowhere and get attacked by serial-killer joggers”—I laughed—“I’ll always blame myself. Make an old lady happy.”

  “You can’t buy a car,” Chloe whined.

  “Why not? Consider it a graduation present for Blake.” More typing of keys from her end. “Where are you?”

  “Myrtle Beach,” I answered.

  “Great. I’ll call with details soon.” She paused again. “Blake?”

  “Yeah?”

  Her tone turned serious. “I’m proud of you for following your heart, doing something that makes you happy. You deserve it.”

  Chloe turned to face me, a perfect pout on her perfect face. She kissed my nose—the freckles, I guess.

  “And you take care of Chloe,” Mom said. “She deserves that, too.”

  “I will,” I answered. “She’s my red-letter day.”

  “She’s your unexpectedly phenomenal?” Mom giggled. “Holy shit. I need to put that in my next book.” Frantic typing. “Okay, kids. Keep in touch. Love you both.” Then she hung up.

  “What the hell just happened?” Chloe laughed.

  I shook my head. “I have no idea.”

  She picked up her coffee and handed me mine, but before I could take a sip, my phone chimed.

  Myrtle Beach Chrysler-Jeep dealership. Grand Cherokee. Chloe gets to pick the color. Happy Graduation. I love you. Mom.

  Mom wasn’t the only one who called. Dad did, too, over twenty times. We stopped by a store and picked up a new SIM card for my phone. I texted Josh and Mom my new number. I also told Mom to give Josh my old car; his was unreliable at best.

  Chloe found a homeless shelter nearby and gave them her car.

  Mom had handled all the financing by phone, so by the time we got to the dealership, all I had to do was sign for ownership, and Chloe had to pick a color.

  She chose red.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Chloe

  I woke the next morning to an empty bed. When I sat up to look around the room, all his stuff was still there. Relief washed through me. Then I saw it. Red ink on torn white paper, sitting on his pillow.

  Back soon. Gone for a run.

  P.S. You’re beautiful when you’re sleeping. Just thought you should know that—in case nobody else ever gets a chance to tell you.

  I swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat and read the note over and over. In case nobody else ever gets a chance to tell you. I wondered for a moment what he meant—but it was only a moment before reality kicked in. The best kind of reality. Blake was there—with me. And we had until August 19 to make it count.

  I got up, used the bathroom, and brushed my teeth, then climbed back into bed and waited for him to return. I had to wait only a few minutes before I heard him walk over to the side of the bed and stand over me.

  “Like the dead,” he whispered and laughed to himself.

  I shot up and wrapped my arms around his neck, bringing him down with me.

  “Jesus Christ, Chloe, you scared the shit—”

  I pressed my lips to his. Rushed and frantic at first, but then the kiss slowed enough so that he could position himself on top of me and between my legs. He tasted salty from the sheen of sweat that covered his face and his entire body. He was shirtless again. And the picture of him in my mind made my hips jerk up and into him.

  He moaned but pulled back quickly. “Shit,” he spat out, letting his head fall onto my shoulder. “I need to shower.” He kissed me once. “A cold one.”

  And then he was gone. I waited for him to get in the bathroom before kicking my legs wildly, like a teenager who had just made out with a boy she’d been crushing on forever. Because that was what I was. A teenager, crushing on a boy for the very first time in her life.

  I got out of bed, made us coffee, and waited out on the balcony for him. When he came out, he just stood in front of me. “You’re in my seat,” he said. My eyebrows bunched, but I got up an
yway. He sat down, but before I could move to another seat, his arm curled around me and brought me down onto his lap. “I think every room we get should have a balcony.”

  “Okay.” I picked up my coffee and used it to hide my smile.

  He kissed my neck a few times, and his lips remained there when he spoke. “Chloe?”

  “Yeah?”

  He pulled back and swiveled my legs so I was sideways on his lap. “I think that—I mean, I want to—” He cursed under his breath before continuing, “I want to take things slow with you. With us. We only have a couple months, and I want to remember all of it. I don’t just want to have sex with you and become another forgettable guy.”

  I opened my mouth to interrupt, but he cut me off.

  “I know,” he said. “I know that’s not what I am, but I don’t want to risk it. And I’m scared that if we have sex, then that’s the only thing we’ll remember from this time we have together, that’s all this adventure will become—sex. Because I’m positive that once I have you in that way, then I’ll need to have you always. And that’s just not good enough for me. It’s not good enough for us.”

  “Okay,” I said, because a part of me agreed with him, and another part of me wondered what the hell I’d done that made me deserve him.

  Sometimes the wrong path can lead us to the right road. And toward the greatest thing that will ever happen to us.

  We stood in front of the fridge and stared at my handwritten quote on the magnet I’d just placed there. I hoped he understood what I meant by it. I hoped he knew that I was talking about him. That he was the best thing that had ever happened to me.

  “Why are you leaving it here?” he asked.

  I shrugged. “Maybe one day someone will book this room, see that message, and those words might be exactly what they need to see. Maybe they’ll smile after reading it. Maybe a smile is all they’ll need to keep them going.”

  “You got another one?”

  I reached into my bag and pulled out a blank magnet and a red pen. He smiled when he took it from my hands. Then he leaned on the counter, wrote on the magnet, and stuck it right next to mine.