Page 18 of The Bro Pact
“Grab a hoodie and meet me outside,” Ren says excitedly, hopping up from the driver’s seat and rummaging around in his luggage.
We really need to unpack.
I do the same, slipping a hoodie on and quickly using the restroom.
When I step outside, Warren’s already out here watching the sunset, with a reusable grocery bag in his hand and what looks like a folded blanket.
Everything is bathed in shades of gold and pink.
“Come here,” Ren whispers, leading me around the RV and up the ladder on the back, taking us to the roof. I haven’t been up here yet, and I smile as he lays the blanket out and sets the bag down in the middle.
He settles on one side, smiling up at me and chewing on that damn tongue ring.
Why is my heart racing, and my stomach doing somersaults?
“This is awesome,” I whisper, ignoring the strange feelings and smiling kindly instead.
I settle next to him on the blanket, stretching my legs out and wondering what he brought in the grocery bag.
The crisp sound of a beer tab opening gets my attention, and I grab the can from Ren’s outstretched hand, taking a healthy swallow.
He opens his own beer, and we just sit in silence, side by side, watching the beautiful colors erupt across the horizon.
“It’s like an oil painting achieved only by layers and layers of color blended together. It’s so rich and vibrant. Unbelievable that nature can create something so beautiful.”
I turn to stare at him as he stares at the view—entranced by the setting sun and enamored by its beauty—he doesn’t even notice me watching.
Ren slips his Polaroid out, aiming it at the dunes and taking a picture. His eyes are sparkling, excitement rolling through him as he uses his phone next, snapping a few digital photos before turning to me.
“Smile!” Ren says, and it doesn’t take much.
I’m happy right now. This place is stunning and unique.
Kind of like my best friend.
“Can you take some of me?” he asks, handing his phone over.
I snap a few photos and grab the Polaroid camera to get one of those too, telling him to act natural, like he’s just up here watching the sunset by himself.
“So, are you doing the blog?” I don’t mean to push, I just really think he’d be great at it.
“I still don’t know yet. Undecided seems to be the theme of my life,” he chuckles. “But you’re right, I want to capture this journey whether I end up sharing it with the world or not.”
“Of course.” I give him a small smile that he returns easily.
His sharp bone structure is illuminated by the sun, and his raven hair is half up, the rest of it cascading over his shoulders and blowing in the wind. He looks like a male model and has the body of one too.
Why do I seem to have a problem with checking him out?
It’s creepy.
I really need to stop.
I snap a few more photos of him, and then we lean back on the blanket, sipping our beers and watching as day slowly becomes night out on the dunes.
Warren rummages through the grocery bag like he’s Mary Poppins and pulls out an electric lantern, switching it on and setting it between us.
Next, he pulls out two pizza Lunchables—extra cheese—and sets them on the blanket. “Your mom packed these. Did you see ’em?”
