Page 27 of Heart So Hollow

He motions further up the sidewalk, “I’m just up here.”

I slow to a halt when I reach the back bumper of a red SUV. My eyes run along the sides, up the front, and back to the bumper again, eyeing the white FORD painted across the raised metal of the hatch.

“Do you seriously drive an old Bronco?”

Colson looks over his shoulder at me, his hand on the driver’s side door, “It’s not old, it’s a classic,” he responds with a grin, “Eddie Bauer edition, even.”

I make my way to the passenger side and tug open the door. The interior looks like it’s either never been driven or been totally restored to its original state. I hoist myself into the beige leather seat and lift my bag over the center console to the back. The back of the Bronco is devoid of seats and now serves as one large cargo area with a tool box and duffel bag pushed against the wall. Laying on the black floorboards are a couple of green, metal T-posts and two large, yellow rolls of measuring tape. Colson sets his backpack down in his lap and unzips the main compartment.

He lifts a bottle from his backpack and hands it to me, “This is for you.”

I recognize the familiar shape and turn it around to read the label. A Naked Mango Madness smoothie—with protein.

I break into a laugh, “It’s like we’re back in class!” I exclaim sarcastically.

“God,” Colson backs the Bronco into the empty space behind him and shifts into drive, “I hope I’m more interesting than that.”

He spins the steering wheel and pulls away from the curb, leaving the library and any thoughts of academic rigor behind. I take a sip of the mango smoothie, eyeing him from the passenger seat.

“What?” he demands as we speed through campus.

“Friday night at the library writing a paper?” I shake my head with a tsk, “So lame.”

“Whatever,” Colson chuckles and flips his turn signal, “you did say yes.”

He has me there.

“OK,” Colson looks at me out of the corner of his eye, “where to?”

“Get on 315,” I reply, pondering the variety of options along this thoroughfare.

A few minutes later, Colson hits the accelerator and merges onto the freeway, going south, away from campus. Following the river, we pass the downtown skyline illuminated by the setting sun, continue beyond the soccer stadium, and approach the southwest side of the city.

“Alright,” Colson scans the highway signage along the road, “now where are we going?”

I empty the rest of the smoothie into my mouth and twist the cap back on the bottle, “It’s your turn,” I chirp as I reach behind me and drop the spent bottle into my bag.

Colson flips his turn signal and veers onto the interstate ramp, “How about Cincinnati?” He reaches for the volume knob and turns up the stereo, filling the Bronco with Satellite by Starset.

“Sounds good,” I nod as I begin to peel off my fleece jacket.

“You’re really OK with this?”

Once my arms are free, I settle back into my seat and brush my hair out of my eyes, “Why not?”

???

I feel a tap on my arm and look up from my plate of bougie nachos to see Colson’s arm extended out in front of us. He’s holding his phone in selfie-mode and I, instinctively, tilt my head toward him and smile.

“What’s that?” I ask as he retracts his arm.

“It’s so people know that I do like hanging out with you outside of class.”

“Ah,” I nod, “an hour and a half away on the riverfront, no less.”

A moment later, I feel my phone buzz with the notification that I’m tagged in the photo.

“No riverfront, yet,” Colson slides his phone back into his pocket, “I can take another one outside.”

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