by Robin Hill
Jacob’s arms circle my waist so tight, it makes my heart clench. I’m afraid he might not let me go, and I’m not sure I want him to.
“You take care of your boat,” I whisper, bending close to his ear. “I promise I’ll see you soon.” I promise I’ll fly you to Miami if I have to rob a bank to do it. “Bring it to Florida when you come.”
He nods against my stomach, and I crouch down to him, my eyes burning.
“And take care of your mom too, okay?” I say, my voice tremulous. I smooth my thumbs across his freckled cheeks. “She’s going to be sad.”
He nods again and I stand, kissing the top of his head before reaching out to Jane. Her face is hard, resigned, and I hug her quickly, then jerk away from them and climb into Darian’s car. I don’t look back. It’s all I can do to keep it together for Jacob.
“You okay?” Darian asks as he buckles himself in to the driver’s seat.
I give him a small smile.
He starts the car and reaches for the radio but changes his mind and grabs my hand instead. “Maybe a little peace and quiet for a few miles.”
I turn toward my window and rest my head against the cool glass. “Quiet’s good.”
Tiny Texas towns pass in a blur, separated by long stretches of wildflowers along the side of the road. After a while, I tuck my hand in my lap and my eyes drift closed. But somewhere between Schulenburg and Sealy, my phone buzzes a text, waking me up.
Jane: Are you still moping?
Frankie: I’m not moping. I’m sleeping. WAS sleeping.
Jane: Seriously? It’s only been a couple of hours.
Frankie: Yep. 2 hours down, a million to go.
Jane: You’re totally moping. Wake up, sit up, & stop making Darian feel bad about taking you away from me.
I’m not making Darian feel bad.
I slowly turn my gaze toward him, and I’m met with wary eyes and a slight frown.
Well, shit.
Jane: Sync your phone. I made you a playlist.
“Jane made us a playlist,” I say with a salty grin.
Darian laughs. “Should I be worried?”
“We don’t agree on much more than Cross to Bear, so probably.”
I pair my phone to his sound system and click on the link Jane sends me. “I Looked at You” blasts from the speakers.
Darian’s face brightens.
“This is big,” I tell him. “Jane hates The Doors.”
“Still, she knows a perfect road trip song when she hears one.”
Frankie: You’re the best.
Jane: Love you too.
My hungry stomach reemerges as Tom Petty takes us into Louisiana, and I reach behind me for the leftover pizza I stashed on the floorboard.
“Not worth it,” Darian says, wrinkling his nose. “We’ll stop somewhere. What sounds good?”
I think on it, stretching my arms across my chest as a yawn breaks free. “Waffle House?”
“We just had waffles.”
“Those were Belgian. Not the same thing, and Waffle House is mandatory dining on a road trip.”
Darian shakes his head. “There’s one next to the motel I stayed at in Lafayette,” he says, “but that’s at least another hour.”
“I can wait. Is that where we’re staying tonight?”
“Uh, no,” he says quickly.
“Why not? Because it’s not the Ritz?”
“Exactly.”
“Come on. We’ve only stayed in fancy places. This is a side of you I haven’t seen before. The side that’s everyday Darian, not the guy constantly trying to impress me.”
“Fine,” he says, smirking. “My girl wants La Quinta, La Quinta she shall have.”
My chest warms. ‘Your girl’ just wants you.
We eat a late dinner of waffles and bacon, then drive across the street to the motel. After Darian checks us in, we park on the side of the building, right in front of our door. A giggle bursts from my throat as he scoops me up and carries me over the threshold.
“Look at you being all romantic,” I say as he lowers me onto the bed.
With his body hovering over mine, he grins. “You think I’m being romantic, but I’m just trying to save you from the mystery stains on the carpet.”
“Either way, it’s chivalrous.”
He drops a soft kiss on my mouth and then lies on his side, facing me. “There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you.”
“I believe that,” I whisper, inching closer until we’re nose to nose.
His hands slide down my back and cup my ass, pulling me against him, against the erection straining beneath his jeans.
A groan slips from my lips followed by, “Wait…”
“Wait?”
“I smell like car,” I say as I wiggle away from him, “I want a shower.”
“You smell like honeysuckle.”
I scoot to the edge of the bed and flutter my lashes at him. “It’s been a long day, and I can’t think of anything I’d rather do than stand under a constant stream of hot water.”
“You can’t think of anything?”
I kick off my sandals. “Nope. A shower sounds heavenly.” I remove my jeans and pull my shirt over my head, letting it fall to the floor. Wearing only a lacy black bra and matching thong, I walk to the wall-to-wall vanity and flip on the fluorescent light. It makes a staticky buzzing noise as it flickers to life, illuminating the room in a harsh yellow.
Darian’s amused eyes find mine in the mirror. “You think it’s safe? Showering all alone in a motel bathroom?”
I shrug.
He climbs off the bed and starts toward me. “How long’s it been since you’ve seen Psycho?”
“It’s been a while.”
I slip into the bright white box of a bathroom, letting the door swing closed behind me. It catches on Darian’s foot.
“Since you’re here…” I say, moving my hair aside.
Darian slips his fingers beneath my bra strap and unhooks it. “Anything else?”
I shrug again, then stiffen as those same fingers slide down my sides and into the waistband of my panties. His touch awakens a trail of goosebumps all the way down to my ankles as he pulls the tiny piece of fabric down my legs. I step out of them and into the shower/tub combo, draw the curtain closed, and turn on the water.
“You think you’re cute,” Darian says, rustling with his clothes. I hear him kick off his shoes, unzip his jeans. “But I have news for you. You’re too fucking sexy to be cute.”
I try and fail to stop the grin spreading over my lips. The curtain’s yanked open, and an arm swoops in right before Darian does, circling my waist and pulling my back against his naked front. I let out a high-pitched squeal and follow it with a fit of giggles I can’t seem to stop either.
“Okay,” he says. “Maybe you’re a little cute.”
I turn around to face him and lower myself to my knees. “How cute am I now?”
Darian’s head falls back, and a heady groan echoes above me as I take him into my mouth. I swirl my tongue around the tip, savoring his taste. With one hand wrapped around the base, the other gripping his thigh, I slowly move my lips up and down his length, carefully sheathing my teeth. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous. I’m not exactly…experienced. If Darian can tell, he doesn’t let on. His fingers twist in my hair, and I let them guide me.
Take me deeper.
Suck me harder.
Use your tongue.
The pitch of his moans emboldens me as I go down the list, checking them off one by one.
“Fuck, Francesca.”
Darian leans forward, flattening his forearms against the fiberglass wall of the shower. His eyes capture mine, and it’s a powerful feeling, watching him crave me. Lust for me.
He begins to move, gently thrusting, gently rocking in and out of my mouth. As his erection swells in my hand, his muscles tense beneath my fingertips. His eyes fall closed on a
groan and he straightens, lifting me to my feet, then off my feet. We stumble back against the shower wall, and I wrap my legs around him.
“I’m so in love with you,” he says, emerald eyes returning to mine, and with a gasp, he pushes inside me.
Queen of the Highway
Darian: I missed a call from WMN, but they didn’t leave a message.
Amanda: That’s strange.
Darian: Did they call the office?
Amanda: Not since Tuesday.
Darian: Let me know if you hear from them again.
Amanda: Will do.
Frankie
Tallahassee by five. That was our goal, anyway. But throw in a major accident on the interstate and a couple of unexpected stops, and five quickly becomes seven.
Dinner is another diner next to another motel. Yesterday it was an adventure. Today it’s a means to an end. Drive. Eat. Sleep. Repeat.
Darian doesn’t carry me over the threshold and I don’t try to lure him into the shower. Exhausted, we settle into bed with chocolate icebox pie and the Syfy channel on mute.
“I feel like I’ve aged a decade since last night,” I tell him as he takes our empty containers and stashes them on his nightstand. “I don’t know how you made that drive by yourself on so little sleep.”
He lies down beneath the covers, facing me. A slow smile spreads over his lips as his fingers walk up and down my arm. “I was on a mission. Had to see about a girl.”
My face heats. I nudge closer to him, rest my head on his shoulder.
“I don’t mind driving,” I say, flipping my palm to collect his wandering hand. “We could take turns.”
“That reminds me—” His phone vibrates on the nightstand, cutting him off. He rolls away from me to grab it.
“Shit. It’s Amanda,” he says, pushing up against the headboard. “I need to take this.”
I stretch to kiss his unshaven jaw and then climb out of bed. “I’m going to take a bath.”
A raised finger stops me. “Hey, Amanda. … Yeah, hold on a sec.” He looks up at me, his mouth twisted in a smirk. “You sure it’s safe?”
I laugh. “I’ll take my chances.”
Darian’s muffled voice melds into white noise as I gather my things and head into the bathroom. With stark white walls and harsh fluorescent lighting, it’s a carbon copy of the one we had last night. Only this place uses much brighter bulbs, I think as I sit in the shallow tub, drawing the curtain closed to dim the glare. A smile plays on my lips. Or maybe you were preoccupied and didn’t notice.
My phone buzzes on the closed toilet lid, the sound loud and garish in the shoebox-sized bathroom. I reach past the curtain and grab it.
Jane: It’s been over 24 hrs since I’ve heard from you. Text me back and let me know you’re alive.
I dial her instead.
“I was going to call, but I wasn’t sure if you’d be busy,” Jane says.
“We do other things besides have sex, Jane.”
“Why?”
Good question.
“So is this our new thing?” I ask her. “Checking in once a day?”
“For now. At least until I get used to you being gone. I hate that I can’t just jump in my car and come see you.”
I pull in my legs and lower my chin to my knees. “Me too.”
“Where’s that handsome man of yours? And why do you sound like you’re in a tunnel?”
“Phone call,” I say, my gaze fixed on the water rushing out of the faucet, “and I decided to make myself scarce by taking a bath in the world’s smallest tub.” I blow out a breath. “Jane?”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t have a car.”
“Don’t worry about that yet. You’ll get—”
“Or a job or a hairstylist or…shit…” I squeeze my eyes closed. “I’m going to have to find a new gyno.”
“Jeez, Frankie. One thing at a time. You don’t need a job and you know it. You just need to get off your lazy ass and put in some effort. How are your party box sales doing?”
“As good as can be expected,” I say, dragging a wet hand through my hair, “considering I’ve been MIA since Miami.”
Jane huffs. “Must be nice.”
“What must be nice?”
“You can play hooky for weeks on end and still make a living.”
“Only because I had like zero living expenses,” I mutter, “but now…”
“Now you need a car.”
I sigh. “Yeah.”
“You always have your dad’s life insurance settlement,” she says. “I know you don’t want to touch that, but I don’t know… Maybe you should think about it.”
I grunt.
“At least as a backup plan. A couple consulting jobs a month would cover a car payment.”
I grunt again.
“I’m just saying, don’t stress so much. It’s not as dire as you think.” A snort hits my ear. “Now having to find a new gyno? That’s dire.”
We’re checked out and packed into Darian’s car by ten the next morning. He smiles at me as he pulls out of the motel parking lot and onto the side street.
“Last day,” he says. “You ready?”
I flash a smile back at him. “Miami or bust.”
The hours crawl by as if we’re still navigating Texas’s farm-to-market roads, not Florida’s Turnpike with its seventy-mile-per-hour speed limit. Jane’s day-three playlist filters quietly through the speakers, low enough to lull me to sleep. After a couple of hours drifting in and out of consciousness, I decide to power it off.
Darian juts his chin toward the radio. “Not feeling it?”
“It’s making me tired, and I’m tired of being tired.”
He grins. “And you offered to drive.”
I kick off my sandals and fold my legs under me on the seat. It’s quiet for a moment, just the dull hum of the road beneath the tires.
“I’m going to need a car,” I say, breaking the silence. “I don’t want to be…dependent.”
“I know. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.”
“Nothing fancy.”
“We’ll get you something, but I want it to be something you like.” He checks the rearview mirror before turning his narrowed eyes to me. “What do you like?”
“For sure something younger than me,” I say. “I love my truck, but—hey! What do you mean ‘we’ll get you something’? You are not buying me a car, Darian. I have my own money.”
He flips on the blinker, then looks over his left shoulder as he changes lanes. “You’re moving to Florida for me. The least I can do is buy you a car.”
“No way.” I fold my arms across my chest. “Darian, I’m not kidding.”
He chuckles. “You’re cute when you’re flustered.”
“I’m not flustered, I’m…” My gaze lands on the Disney World sign in front of us and my sentence falls away.
“You’re what?”
“Are we in Orlando?”
“Close,” Darian says, glancing up at the sign. “Ever been?”
A memory tugs at my heart, and I slowly shake my head.
“I’m due a little vacation time, so I was thinking, how ’bout the two of us check out Disney World this summer?”
I flew at my father, threw my arms around his neck. “Really, Dad?”
He kissed the top of my head. “Really, kiddo.”
“You’re a Floridian now,” he says. “We should go.”
“My dad was going to take me once, but it didn’t happen.”
“That’s too bad. Why not?”
“Frankie, I only have a week. We have to fly. There isn’t enough time to drive.”
“You did this on purpose! You don’t care about Disney World; you just want to make me get on a plane!”
“That’s not…” His face crumbled in defeat. “Will you at least think about it?”
Tears flooded my thirteen-year-old eyes. “
I don’t need to think about it. I’m not going.”
“It didn’t work out.” I turn a forced smile toward him. “So, how many times have you been?”
“Twice.”
“Only twice? You grew up here.”
“My dad took me to Magic Kingdom when I was four,” he says, pushing back against the wheel to stretch his arms. “The first ride we went on was It’s a Small World. It scared the hell out of me.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Isn’t that a kiddie ride?”
“Yeah, right? I thought so too.” He shudders. “I wouldn’t go on anything after that.”
“Oh my God, your poor dad.”
“He was great. He said, ‘Son, we’re not here for the rides; we’re here for the food.’ We spent the whole day going from snack bar to snack bar.” His nose crinkles and he lowers a hand to his stomach. “I was so sick.”
“I bet your mother was furious.”
“We didn’t tell her,” Darian says. “Dad said it was our little secret.”
“I would have liked your dad.”
“He would have liked you too.” A small smile touches his lips. “You know, stomach ache aside, it was a really good day.”
“How was it the second time? Did you ride anything?”
“I had to.” His grip on the wheel tightens. “I took Annie.”
I want to know more about her, and I wonder if the time has come to ask. But before I can find the words, Darian’s phone vibrates in the cupholder and the moment is lost.
“Sorry, babe,” he says, glancing down at the screen. “It’s Amanda. I’ll just be a sec.”
By all means…
He lifts the phone to his ear. “What’s up?”
I turn to look out my window and stare absently at the unfamiliar landscape along the Turnpike. Aside from a few palm trees, Orlando’s pretty much the same as all the other cities we’ve traveled through in the past few days.
“No way.” Darian scoffs. “Not fucking happening.”
