Page 25 of The Bro Pact
“So, are you finally going to tell me where we’re going,Magic Mike?” I ask, teasing Ren with the nickname. He’s relaxed behind the wheel with his hair down and a HSU baseball cap on, not a hangover in sight.
We left the dunes an hour ago and stopped at a little diner on the side of the road for coffee and donuts. Now that we’re fueled up on caffeine and sugar, we’re ready to go.
“Ha. Ha. You know I like to dance when I get drunk,” he chuckles with no remorse and zero shame. “And yes, I’ll tell you. We’re going to Moab, Utah, but there’s a surprise stop along the way. And I won’t tell you what that is, so don’t ask.” There’s an excited sparkle in his eyes that worries me a little. “We have about four and a half hours left on the drive.”
I’ve never been to Moab before, but I know there are tons of outdoorsy things to do.
“What are we doing in Moab?” I ask, even though I’m not holding my breath for an answer. Ren seems to enjoy making things a surprise.
“Not tellin’.” He smiles wide, grabbing a string of licorice and tearing off a piece with his front teeth.
It’s fine, though. Really.
For once in my life, I like not knowing. Not being in charge. It’s relaxing and somewhat of a relief to let someone else handle things. Despite his wild tendencies, I trust Ren completely, and there’s no doubt he’ll show us a good time.
A few hours later, we stop at an old gas station off the highway to fill up, and I step out to stretch my legs.
“Of course you have to prepay with cash out here in the middle of nowhere.Jesus Christ,” Ren mutters.
“I’ll go with you,” I say. “It’s my turn to pay for gas anyway, and I want some Skittles.”
The little bell above the door chimes as I push it open, stepping into the tiny desert convenience store.
As I walk to the end of the first aisle, looking for my candy of choice, I notice the clerk behind the counter following Ren with interested eyes.
He’s not much older than us, mid-twenties maybe, and he’s got that surfer look going on with long, unruly blond hair and tan skin. Out here, I’d guess he’s probably a rock climber.
I grab a bag of Skittles and stalk toward him while he practically salivates over my best friend.
I clear my throat to gain his attention. “Forty bucks on pump two.”
I glance down at his nametag.
“Thanks,Justin.”
His eyes flicker my way as he punches buttons on the register before scanning the Skittles.
Ren takes that moment to run up behind me, wrapping his arm around my shoulder and slapping a bag of sour gummy worms and a Slim Jim on the counter.
“Your turn for gas means your turn for snacks,” he snickers. “Thanks, bro.”
Ren leaves in a whirlwind—off to pump gas—before I can even say a word. Justin’s eyes follow him the whole way back to the RV and continually dart out the window while he scans the rest of the items, placing everything in a plastic bag and reading me my total.
I wait for my change, but before I can escape out of there, Justin shocks me with a bold question I was not expecting. “Are you two together, or can I get your friend’s number?”
I pause, caught off guard, as my mind scrambles for a sufficient response.
“No.”
A simple answer to both questions.
Satisfied with myself, I grab the bag and leave in a hurry, unable to wrap my mind around the fact that he thought we were together.
As in,gay.
Why would he think that?
Ren’s still pumping gas when I return, so I climb into the passenger seat in a daze, tear open my Skittles, and pour some into my mouth while I wait.
