Page 40 of The Road Sometimes Taken

The bathroom is quiet,not a soul sharing the space with me. Perfect opportunity for me to have my freak out in peace. I turn the faucet on, dipping my hands under the cold water and splashing some on my face. Good thing I didn’t wear makeup today or this whole situation would be even worse.Breathe, Cara, breathe.Is this the time when I message Allie and tell her that I almost kissed her brother… twice? Is this the time when I tell Manny to take me home instead of continuing this trip and ruining my life?

As I’m washing my hands, I notice the bracelets framing my arm. Damn it if they don’t remind me to stop being a chicken shit and to tell him how I feel, but how does one even go about telling someoneHey I think I have a crush on youas if I was a horny high schooler? I know I promised to seize the day every time I look at them but this is uncharted territory and I don’t know if I can.

I turn the water off and grab a paper towel to pat my face dry. Refreshed and hoping I can control my words and my body, I leave the bathroom. And just outside the door, I find Manny leaning against the wall, in the ridiculous outfit that somehow makes him look like a movie star. But instead of his usual smile, he’s frowning.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, bringing my hand to his face on instinct. I try to pull away quickly when I realize what I’m doing, but he’s faster and holds me in a gentle grip.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Manny’s voice hangs in the air, laced with a tone I can’t quite grasp. It’s a tone I’ve never heard before—raw and unnamable. Usually, I’m pretty good at reading people, but this feels like a foreign language I can’t decode. They say humans are complicated, hard to please, but I’ve always believed it’s about paying attention to the little things: a subtle shift in posture, a shallow breath before a lie, the flicker of a gaze that reveals too much. Yet here I am, lost. I can’t tell if he’s angry, sad, or something in between. Maybe I’m losing my touch—just like I lost sight of the truth with Cole. I never saw the end coming, never realized he didn’t love me as fiercely as I loved him.

“We just got here,” I reply, my fingers still entwined with his, but the warmth is beginning to feel like a chain pulling me down. Not to the ground, but into a spiral because I’m three seconds away from spilling everything I’m feeling and I don’t know if that’s safe.

“You’re uncomfortable, though,” Manny observes, his eyes searching mine, desperate for clarity. “If you think this was a mistake, we can leave. It’s okay, really.”

“Why do you think I’m uncomfortable? Just because I dropped that glass?” I shoot back, the defensiveness creeping into my voice. I’m not just a clumsy fool; I’m an emotional messof highs, lows, and confusion, and I can’t shake the feeling that everything is spiraling out of my control.

“No, not because you dropped it, but because of how you reacted to dropping it. Let’s go to the hotel or let’s go sit, yeah?” he asks, wrapping my arm with his and guiding us both out of the hall.

“I don’t want to go,” I whisper so quietly I think he may have missed it. But he nods, letting me know he did, per usual showing me how easy it is for him to listen to me. To respect me.

We walk back outside to the boisterous crowd, but instead of joining them like before, he leads us to a set of tables in the garden near the water. The view is spectacular. Many people say they prefer things like glaciers or mountains, and they don’t appreciate the natural wonders in front of them every day. For the people here, this may just be a river, but for those who have never seen a river, this is a miracle.

Manny pulls the seat out, letting me sit down before he takes the one across from me, sitting down and propping his feet up on a bar under the white metal table between us.

We sit there in silence before it’s so uncomfortable I have to break it. I used to be able to sit with myself and be fine in the silence, just being in the moment. But sometimes my thoughts are my worst enemy and I’d rather fill my thoughts with joy instead. Fiddling with my bracelets, I remind myself that even if joy is not real, it’s better than the alternative and sometimes you have to fake it ‘til you make it, right?

“Are you excited about Nashville tomorrow?” I ask.

“Are you going to change the topic and not tell me what happened back there?” Manny retorts, nodding and pointing his chin toward the dancing area.

Because suddenly you make me nervous. Because I can’tthink straight when you’re around. Because I shouldn’twantyou but I do. Desperately.

“It just slipped,” I say shyly, my cheeks burning.

“Why are you hiding from me?” His frown deepens, and for a moment, his gaze flickers away from mine, landing instead on the pretty waitress gliding toward us. She’s wearing a tiny black dress that clings in all the right places, her long dark hair cascading down her body.

“Can I get you guys anything?” she asks, her smile bright, as if the world revolves around her.

“I’ll take a water,” I reply, trying to keep my voice steady but it wavers like my heart, which feels like it’s teetering on the edge of something painful.

“Same,” Manny agrees, but there’s a subtle shift in his tone, a hint of annoyance I can’t quite place.

“Coming right up!” she chirps, and as she puts her hand on Manny’s shoulder, a flash of irrational fire ignites in my chest. What the hell?! Why does this bother me so much?

“Cara,” Manny starts, leaning forward, his forearms resting on his lap, as if he’s bracing for something.

“What?!” I snap, the tension in the air crackling like electricity, the fear of losing him—losing this moment—making me crazy.

“No, no, don’t snap at me, sunshine. I need you to talk to me. What happened back there?”

I wanted you to kiss me.The thought is at the tip of my tongue. I fidget with the skirt of my dress and look down at my lap, trying to avoid this conversation and his stare. I feel soft hands under my chin, slightly tilting up until my eyes are on him and he has nearly closed the space between us.

“Truth or dare, Cara,” he asks, serious and certain. He might be asking me to play this game but his face says the opposite. It feels like a challenge; more profound than the silly gameI like to play. Isn’t that what we’ve been doing though? Using this game as our arsenal? Playing dirty under the disguise of a dare to get the other person to do what we feel is right. His eyes lock onto mine, piercing and intense, as if he’s searching for something buried deep within me.

“I don’t want to play this game now. Just drop it,” I add.

“You’ve never been one to back down from a truth or dare, right?”

My eyes roam back and forth, switching between his eyes nervously, waiting for a tell to clue me in on what’s actually going on here.Give me a sign, Manny.

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