Page 28 of From Now On

“Yeah.” I exhale. “Working in the service industry.Reallyexciting stuff.”

“That’s not why you’re moving to New York, Eve.”

A thrill runs through me when he says my name. Just like earlier, I’m not cold anymore. Even the asphalt under my butt feels softer.

“No, it’s not,” I agree. “But pursuing art isn’t exactly…realistic. I’m probably setting myself up for failure.”

It’s the first time I’ve admitted that aloud. Because two of the people who know me best—my mom and Ben—have expressed concerns.

And you can’t share doubts with someone who’s casting aspersions. I’ve had to be unfailingly optimistic and upbeat andcertain, and it’s a relief to be the worried downer for a change. To admit I’m scared it will be a mistake.

“That’s better than never trying at all,” Hunter says.

“You think?”

“Yeah. I do. But it doesn’t matter what I think. It’s about what you think.”

I think he’s right. That, as worried as I am about not succeeding, I’ll regret not trying a lot more.

I also think my crush on him is bigger than it was yesterday.

CHAPTER EIGHT

HUNTER

“You can turn on a light,” I say. “It won’t bother me.”

The scratch of Eve’s pencil abruptly stops. “Oh. It’s, um, fine. I’m just doodling.”

I’ve been trying to tell what she was “doodling” for the past two hours, ever since she pulled a sketchpad out of her backpack. She seemed more relaxed as soon as it was in her hands, sitting cross-legged and balancing the bound paper on one knee. I basically went cross-eyed trying to look over there while simultaneously keeping my gaze on the road.

Now, it’s pitch-black out and we’re in standstill traffic. We were moving—crawling—for a while, but the tires haven’t rolled an inch in ten minutes. The GPS is estimating our arrival time as 12:30 a.m., and I’m guessing the next update will be even later.

Ahead of us is an endless stretch of red brake lights. I glance in the rearview mirror, and immediately regret it. Pretty sure the truck behind me has its brights on.

White dots dance across my vision as I squint at the GPS. Arrival is estimated at 12:43 now.

A half hour later, we’ve barely moved, another hour has been added to our ETA, and I have to piss so badly it’s physicallypainful. The fast-food place we stopped at for dinner oversalted the fries, so I downed an entire root beer plus most of the water bottle I brought.

I blow out a long breath. “We should stop.”

“For the night?” Eve sounds surprised by the suggestion, but I don’t see a better option.

“Yeah. This isn’t looking like it’ll clear up anytime soon.” I nod toward the red lights ahead. “We get off the road, get some sleep, and leave early in the morning. We should make it to the rental by noon.”

Eve closes her sketchbook and sits up straight. “Okay. Uh, yeah. Okay.”

I flick on my blinker.

It takes us fifteen minutes to make it to the next exit—which thankfully has a hotel and a motel on the sign—and we aren’t the only ones getting off. Several other cars take the same ramp. Three of them pull off at the first hotel, so I keep driving to the motel farther down the street. TheVacancysign is flickering, but the parking lot is pretty full. There are two leather-clad men straddling motorcycles in the spot next to us.

I park in the closest open spot to the office and hand Eve the car keys so she can lock the SUV if she wants. “I’ll be right back.”

When I enter the small office, a middle-aged couple is talking to the man at the front desk. I duck into the tiny bathroom. By the time I reemerge into the small lobby, the couple has disappeared.

“Good evening, sir,” the man greets. His name tag readsAlfred. For the late hour, he seems awfully chipper.

“Hey. Could I get two rooms, please?”

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