"Too late for that now anyway. I mean, the whole point of college is to have a successful career to support yourself and your family. But I think I’ve got it figured out without it."
"You sure do." I’m quiet for a few heartbeats, my hands resting casually in my lap as I’m wondering if I’ll get to reach my own goals when I’m his age.
"Can I get your number?" he asks.
"This one-time ride is all that’s on the agenda," I reply.
"Right," he says with a sad smile on his face. "I forgot."
"Sorry." I pause, wait a few seconds, then go on, "I don’t know if I’d feel right about this. About us, continuing as if nothing happened. You understand?" I look at him.
He looks back at me an nods once.
"I do."
"I still live with Jett. It’s already too complicated. I’ll need to figure out how to end it cleanly, and I’m just not ready for anything more than this." My hand bounces between us.
"I get it."
"We should probably head back."
"Yeah." He starts the car but remains still in his seat for a while.
We listen to the hum of the engine as our words fade to an echo. We’ve said all there is to say.
15CRUZ
The approachingnight swallows Wendy and me in its sticky black as we cross the remains of the festival grounds, stepping over electric cables that look like broken snakes and avoiding trash that hasn’t been picked up, keeping close as shadows play tag beneath our feet.
The same raw anticipation that thrummed right before our first real sober kiss back at the lake sparks in the crisp, fresh air between us. With our hands almost touching, but not for the sake of safety, we walk back to the artists’ area.
Everything around us has the feeling of an aftermath—the trailers folding up, the band buses like boxy ghosts slipping away. I catch glimpses of the old rides, dark and skeletal, covered with raindrops. It's a boneyard, stripped naked after its fever dream of sound and light.
Wendy's laughter sparks above it all, catching on my last punchline, pulling me in. Her hair, bright and defiant in the chaos, lures me deeper.
I want more.
I want a way to keep her, to wrap her around my heart and in my bed.
But she made it clear. She needs space. And I’m not Jett. I know that when a woman says no, it means exactly that. No.
"I’m so glad the rain is over," she rambles on next to me as we pass the line of security.
"Me too," I reply monotonously. Up ahead, a familiar face emerges. "Oh shit." I turn around before I’m recognized. I don’t want to socialize right now.
"What is it?"
"Just some dudes I know."
Wendy grabs my arm and yanks me sideways behind some trailer, her body warm against mine as we collide for a second. Her cheeks are flushed, but I can’t tell if it's from the chill or the heat of being tangled up with me in the rental.
"Let’s go through here." She pulls me further down between the vehicles and toward a different path.
We dodge another power line, a loose loop that trips her up, and she yelps.
"Festival booby traps," I say, seizing her by the elbow before she falls to the muddy ground. "Deadlier than landmines."
Her nose wrinkles in a mock pout, and it’s too fucking adorable. I want to kiss her. I want to kiss her and not stop. Her hair, a wild orange halo, is everywhere I look, and I’m wrecked by how much I’m starting to feel. It shouldn’t hit this fast. It should be slower. I try to mask the hunger, throwing another joke into the air like bait.
