by S. R. Grey
“Getting there will take up a lot of time,” I counter.
I want to go, but I just want him to realize it’s no quick trip.
Good thing he is in no way discouraged. “Ah, who cares if it takes a while? We can leave early in the morning, drive up to the area, and spend a few hours checking out the falls. It sounds like a great way to spend the day, if you ask me.”
He does kind of have a point. Plus, again, I’d like nothing more than to spend several hours seated next to Lars, driving up to Niagara Falls and back.
I nod. “Yeah, I think it’s doable. Let’s go for it.”
“That’s the spirit,” Lars exclaims.
“There is something to consider, though,” I warn.
“Yeah, what’s that?”
“It is still March. There aren’t going to be a lot of places that are open up there. And it may be kind of chilly.”
“Who cares?” Lars says. “I just want to see the falls. I don’t mind if it’s not warm. That is”—he raises a brow—“if you’re okay with that.”
I roll my eyes at him. “I’m fine with chilly weather. I live in Ohio, don’t I?”
“Ah, yes, you do. But as I recall, you once told me how much you hate snow. I’m assuming that includes the cold.”
Ah, so he does remember what I said that night in the theatre.
Smiling, I tell him, “You are absolutely right about me hating snow and being cold. That’s why I plan to check the forecast religiously before we go. I’m going to make sure it’s A-okay for a day trip.”
That makes Lars laugh. “I’m sure you’ll do that, Becca. I’m sure you will.”
He already knows me so well.
Eek, that’s a little scary.
But I’m not running.
Road Trip
Becca and I pick a day for our Niagara Falls adventure. She’s calling it that now, and I’m happy to go along with it.
I hope it is an adventure, a great one.
We end up choosing the last Friday in March. She’s not working at the consultant shop that day, and hell, I can take time off from working out anytime I want.
Becca, as I knew she would, checks the weather faithfully in the days leading up to our trip.
All is good, meaning there’s no snow in the forecast and no frigid cold.
With the plan on, I pick her up early Friday morning at her house.
As she hops into the Navigator, she asks, “You have your passport, right?”
I reply, “I sure do.”
“Good.” She nods approvingly. “We’re still in great shape with the weather too. There could be some light rain showers off and on, but the temperature is supposed to hover in the low fifties.”
Laughing, I say, “Thank you for that weather report. Do you have a traffic update too?”
“Ha, ha, Lars. You’re so funny.”
She smacks my arm as I place the car in gear.
“Seriously, though,” I go on, “that sounds great. It won’t be freezing cold or pouring snow. And”—I nod down to the jeans, hiking boots, dark long-sleeved tee, and olive green rain jacket I’m wearing—“I came prepared for rain.”
“I did too,” Becca says, smiling as she gestures to her own attire.
After I turn around in her long driveway, I stop the vehicle and take a look.
She is indeed ready for rain, having on pretty much the same style of clothes I have on: a rain jacket—though hers is black, not green—hiking boots, a long-sleeved tee, and jeans.
Her jeans are of the skinny variety, and I can’t help but notice how they accentuate her curves in a way that makes me have to look away.
If Becca catches me, she’ll see the want and longing in my eyes.
I’m trying to play it cool, be her “friend.”
Oh, hell.
“We better get going.” I blow out a breath as I hit the gas. “We have a long drive ahead of us.”
I’m worried that trying not to think dirty thoughts about Becca when she’s sitting this close to me for the next five hours may prove a challenge. I’ve already had one lusty thought and we’re only just now heading away from her house.
I’ve been so good lately too, keeping my innuendo and flirting to a minimum.
You can do this, I remind myself.
I can.
I got this.
I so very much do.
As we travel through the state of Ohio, I keep our conversation strictly platonic.
Becca does too.
She tells me more details about her life growing up in Columbus. And I share info with her about my younger years in Florida.
“I had a lot of friends in the neighborhood I grew up in. That made it really easy to put together ragtag football games with me and my brothers. We did that pretty much all the time.”
“No wonder you’re so good,” Becca remarks.
I smile over at her before returning my eyes to the road. “Thanks for saying that.”
“It’s true, Lars. Watching all those highlights and games from the end of the Comets season last year showed me one thing.”
I’m curious, so I ask, “Yeah? What’s that?”
“It proves you weren’t the problem with the team.”
“No.” I blow out a breath. “I guess not. I played pretty well as an individual. But, as you know, it takes a whole team to win. Sadly, our defense was consistently weak, and the quarterback we had for most of the season was absolutely horrible.”
Becca sighs. “Yeah, I heard about him. He was a real jerk and kind of a nut.”
I chuckle. “That’s putting it mildly.”
“Good thing he’s gone, yeah?”
“Yeah, good thing.”
I shake my head, thinking of the details of the sordid quarterback mess. It’s a long story, but suffice it to say that life with the QB we once dubbed Dumbo was not a fun time for the team.
Becca, nodding contemplatively and clearly having learned the details from Jodi, asks, “What do you think the Comets are planning to do about this upcoming season? I heard they’re shopping around for a new starting quarterback. Is that true?”
“Yes.” I nod. “Our backup is okay, but he’s not starting material. There’s chatter that the Comets are looking real hard at a guy named Graham Tettersaw.”
“Huh, is that so? Is he any good?”
“He is,” I confirm. “But we’ll see what happens. It’s too early for any major moves.”
We talk some more about random stuff, until we reach the New York state line.
Excited, I point over to a huge sign on the side of the road welcoming incoming travelers. “Ah, we have officially reached New York. It won’t be long now till we’re at our destination.”
“It won’t,” Becca agrees, sounding pumped. “I can’t believe how quickly the time’s going by.”
Glancing over at her, I say softly, “Must be the good company, huh?”
She laughs. “Yes, and that goes both ways.”
She’s such a doll.
We continue traveling north on I-90. I can’t believe I’m having such a good time just driving. I swear I could do anything with Becca and have a blast.
When we find ourselves closing in on Buffalo, she says, “Should we grab some lunch before we’re at Niagara Falls?”
“Absolutely,” I reply, my stomach concurring with a loud rumble. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Snickering, she says, “Yes. It sounds like someone’s hungry.”
I protest, “Hey, it’s past noon. We’ve been on the road for quite a while. This big body requires a lot of nourishment.”
I catch her glancing over at me, her gaze traveling up my legs, over my torso, and to my face.
Pretending I haven’t noticed a thing, I return my eyes to the road.
I won’t bust her.
But her perusal does make me feel happy.
I’m glad I’m not the only one always throwing out hungry glances.
And I’m about to do more, when, out of th
e corner of my eye, I catch her licking her lips. I almost freaking let out a groan.
Shit, I need to get my mind back on the subject at hand—food.
Thank God there’s a big green-and-white road sign up ahead.
Pointing to it, I say, “Hey, there’s an exit coming up. We can get something to eat there.”
“Sounds good,” Becca says. “Let’s do it.”
“Let’s,” I agree.
We bump fists, perfectly too, like we’ve been doing this song and dance for years.
Fuck, we really have become good friends.
We’re synchronized in clothing and in actions.
Why does that make me feel so damn good?
I don’t know, and I don’t have time to process it.
I take the next exit, as planned, and we immediately come upon a string of restaurants.
Though the choices are many, we opt for something quick and easy—burgers and fries from a fast food joint.
It’s not gourmet cuisine, but it does the trick.
A short while later, we finally reach our destination—Niagara Falls.
After parking and buying a guide book from a gift shop, Becca and I find ourselves standing on an observation deck on the Canadian side, checking out the amazing views.
“I think I like this vantage point best,” Becca says, holding up her phone and snapping a photo.
“It is amazing,” I concur as I do the same.
She then steps back from the railing.
Paging through the guide book, she says, “It says here that these are called Horseshoe Falls.”
“I can see why,” I reply. “They’re shaped like one.”
Leaning over the railing, I take more pics with my phone.
Becca slides in next to me, and since she’s standing really fucking close, the electricity that is always there but is usually kept at bay roars to life.
She must feel it too, as she quickly steps away, putting some space between us.
“Damn, I was just about to suggest a selfie,” I joke.
Looking flustered, she says, “Um, we can still take one.”
She stands beside me once more, though not as close, and I snap a selfie of us.
Moving away swiftly, she says, “See, if you were on Instagram, you could post that picture.”
I check out the photo and realize that though we’re not all jammed up on each other, we look like a couple, one with deep feelings for each other.
Showing Becca the pic, I poignantly state, “I’m fine with keeping this one all for myself.”
“Mmm, yeah…”
She walks away, pretending to be immersed in the brochure.
Hey, at least she’s not running.
When she turns back around, she says, “We should check out some other viewing points. This brochure has a long list of places to stop and take photos.”
“Sure.” I nod. “Let’s do it.”
Despite my enthusiastic tone, a part of me feels sad. I’m starting to really dislike this friends-only crap. It gets harder every day for me to pretend like I’m not attracted to Becca, insanely attracted to her. Not to mention, my feelings for her have grown stronger as I’ve gotten to know her.
I really care about this girl.
But what can I do?
This is how she wants us to be—friends only.
Sighing resignedly, I hold out my arm. “Okay, lead the way.”
I follow Becca to the next great viewing point, just as I will continue to follow her in the path of this relationship.
For some reason, though, I have a strong suspicion there’s about to be a detour.
No, Not Snow!
This day is turning out to be so much fun and much more than I expected. I knew Lars and I would have a good time, as we always do, but this is next level.
I guess it was good to get away.
One thing, it’s giving me a new perspective on things.
I enjoyed the drive up to New York and Canada with Lars, and I’ve absolutely loved checking out Niagara Falls with him. But I’ve realized something, something I’ve been running from.
Despite all my friends-only rules, I’ve slowly been falling for Lars Samuels.
As in, I love him.
There’s no denying there’s just something really fantastic between us. It’s more than just how well we get along, which is amazing. But friendship aside, that sexual energy that’s been there from the start has only grown stronger.
That’s why I had to move away from him on the observation deck. Otherwise, I might have done something foolish.
And now he wants a selfie.
I stand a reasonable distance away as he snaps the pic. I then crack a joke about Instagram and how he could post the photo if he had an account.
And then he shows me the selfie.
Damn, we look like a couple in love.
I quickly turn my attention to the guide book, and soon we move to a different viewing spot.
Only problem is, even though I’m standing a few safe feet away, the pull is still there, urging me to close the gap.
Oh, what the hell.
The fight in me is waning.
I inch a little closer to Lars, testing the waters.
But before I can gauge whether this is a wise move or not, my whole plan is washed out, like literally, when it starts to rain.
Damn it!
It’s not just a shower; it’s a freaking deluge.
“Shit, crap.” I yank my jacket hood up over my head, not that it helps much.
Lars does the same, hollering over the pounding rain, “I thought only light showers were in the forecast.”
As we desperately glance left and right, seeking some kind of shelter, I yell back, “Clearly the weather people were wrong.”
Laughing, he remarks, “Isn’t that usually the case?”
Spotting an open cafe around the corner, I point in that direction and say, “Should we head over there?”
“Absolutely,” Lars replies.
We make a run for it.
Once we’re inside the cafe, shaking rainwater from our jackets, he says, “This looks like a good spot to wait out this storm.”
“Definitely.” I pull my hood down, running my fingers through my damp hair. “I think this is perfect. We can even get something warm to drink.”
“Sounds good,” he says.
We find two seats at the counter and, when the waitress comes by, we order two hot coffees.
While we’re waiting, I take out my phone and check for updates on the weather.
Once I read the forecast, I murmur, “Crap.”
“What’s wrong?” Lars asks.
In a tone filled with pure dread, I reply, “Snow. Snow is on the way.”
The coffees arrive, and he holds up his cup.
As he’s about to take a sip, he says, “Wait. I thought the temps were staying in the fifties.”
“Ah, that’s obviously changed.” I turn the phone around so Lars can see the bad news for himself.
“Fuck,” he grinds out.
Turning the phone back my way, I say, “I better turn on the alerts. I could’ve caught this had I done so earlier. Anyway, here’s the full forecast. The temperature is falling. It should drop into the low thirties within the next hour.” I look over at him. “That means this rain will turn to snow real freaking soon.”
Frowning but still looking gorgeous, especially with how his dark hair is all messy and damp, Lars says, “I suck at driving in the snow. I’m a Florida guy, meaning I’ve not had much experience.”
“I can drive,” I offer. “But I must warn you, I’m not the best snow-driver either, seeing as I try to stay out of the white stuff as much as possible.”
Setting his cup down with a clink, he says, “This sucks, Becca. I hate having to leave already. It feels like we just got here. Still, I think the wisest course of action is to hit the road as soon as we can and head back to Ohio.”
“Yeah, I agree. With
this kind of weather moving in, it’ll get dark real fast. And that always makes everything worse.”
With the decision made, we finish our coffees quickly and leave the cafe.
It’s noticeably colder when we step outside. It’s still raining, though much more lightly than before. There is a different feel to it, though, which concerns me.
“We really need to get out of here,” I warn. “I think that snow is arriving sooner rather than later.”
Lars nods. “It would seem so.”
We retrieve the SUV from where we parked and prepare to start on our way back home. I offer to drive again, but Lars insists he’s got it for now since we’re only dealing with rain.
I’m cool with that.
But a short while later, once we’re in New York state, traveling south on I-90, the rain turns to something far worse than snow—it turns to freaking freezing rain.
“This is awful,” I squeak out, my heart pounding. “It feels like it’s already super slippery.”
“It is,” Lars confirms. “I have traction control on, but it’s not helping much.”
I blow out a stuttered breath. “You know, I really think we should get off the highway and stop for a while. Freezing rain is a whole other animal than snow.”
Lars is up for stopping, no surprise there. It’d be crazy to continue.
“I see an exit up ahead,” he says. “We can get off there.”
Relieved, I breathe out a fast, “That sounds perfect.”
My phone dings, indicating there’s a new weather alert.
When I check it, I find confirmation that this is only the beginning of the freezing rain. It’s going to last for a while before turning to just snow.
This is bad.
“I don’t even see any salt trucks out here,” I say, panicked, as we proceed down the exit ramp cautiously. “There’s really no one out at all.”
Oh, boy.
If people in upstate New York are staying in, the weather really must be bad.
Sighing, I lament, “Maybe we better think about finding a place to stay for the night.”
Raking his fingers through his hair, Lars concedes, “That’s not a bad idea.”
The only problem is the exit we’ve just taken is leading us into bumfuck nowhere. The road we end up turning onto is a country lane, surrounded by nothing but fields and farms.
