Page 46 of The Bro Pact
He slides into the booth seat, and I grab my own plate, sitting across from him.
“So, everything’s hooked up, and we can stay here for up to two weeks,” Warren says, chuckling when he sees the look on my face. “Not that we have that much time, but you know what I mean.” He dips a pizza roll into the mayo, popping the whole thing into his mouth before speaking with it full. “We’re good to go.”
I smile, eating one of my own pizza bites with a fork andnomayo. “Thanks for doing all that, Ren.”
I don’t know shit about engines or RV connections. Ask about sports or the judicial system, and I’m your guy.
“No worries,” Ren mumbles around a mouthful, guzzling his soda before letting out a loud burp.
My nose crinkles, making him smile as he continues to inhale his food.
He sits back, dusting his hands off when he’s done. “Ahh. That was good. Thanks.”
I hum my acknowledgement, finishing my own and tossing our paper plates into the trash can.
We move to the lumpy couch, continuing ourFinal Destinationmarathon, and I addtanning bedsto the list of things I’m afraid of, right afterlogging trucks.
I must doze off because the next thing I know, Warren’s soft words wake me. “Hey, Kyle? Wanna go for a bike ride?”
Cracking one eye open, I peer at him as golden streaks of sunlight seep through the blinds, highlighting all of his sharp angles.
My stomach grumbles, and I glance down at my watch, realizing we must have napped through dinner.
When I look back up, there’s too much excitement and a hint of impatience shimmering in his bright eyes, and I realize there’s no time for dinner.
So, I grab my portable lunch bag and toss in an ice pack, then some small containers of carrots, ranch, cheese, and crackers. I throw in a pack of salami, and at the very last second I decide to clean some strawberries and slip in a bottle of whipped cream.
Then we’re out the door with our helmets and backpacks, unlocking the bikes from the back of the RV.
We’re off, dust and dirt stirring behind us as the sun starts its descent across the mesa.
“We gotta hurry,” Ren urges, even though I’m sure we have plenty of time to get somewhere nice to see the sunset.
Regardless, I pedal harder and follow him into a thicket before we burst out the other side, appearing right in front of the Colorado River. The stunning mesas tower behind it, reflecting in shades of gold and orange as the sun sets.
“Wow,” Ren says, folding his kickstand out with his foot.
I do the same, and we unbuckle our helmets, leaving them behind.
“Let’s get closer to the river,” he insists, grabbing his backpack.
“Okay,” I agree, lifting everything else and following him down to the rocky bank.
We find the smoothest area we can and quickly lay out our towels, followed by a thick blanket.
We settle on top, barely feeling the pebbles underneath trying to poke us in the ass.
The sun sets further, morphing into shades of pink and magenta and splashing its vibrant colors against the tall tables of red rock.
“It’s so vibrant,” Ren whispers, staring at the world in complete awe.
I slip the Polaroid out of his bag and snap a photo, needing to capture this moment and the quiet wonder on his face.
He ignores me, continuing to get lost in the view. “So beautiful.So free.”
“It is,” I concur, but I’m no longer staring at the sunset, I’m staring at him.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
