Page 31 of Exit Lane
But here he is, at a roadside inn somewhere in Illinois, one hand cupping my jaw and the other reaching for my top button.
We kiss like we’re breathing, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, like survival. He pulls the small of my back closer to him, reaching beneath my pajama shirt, sending the same message to my brain I get every time we touch: Why haven’t we been doing this forever? Teddy sighs as he kisses my neck, his erection pronounced against my thigh. No amount of fantasizing could prepare me for the very real, very desperate need surging between the two of us right now.
I peel off my top, and his mouth moves from my neck to my breasts, teeth clamping down gently on my nipples. Never in my life has sex felt so present. Like there is nothing else in the world, not even the room we’re in. Every inch of my body and brain are lit up in Teddy’s touch. I sit, straddling him, and drop my head to trail my tongue along his chest and his abs. Watching him watch me, I pull his boxers off, move down his body, and wrap my handaround his dick, leaning down to lick before taking him in my mouth. “You,” he whispers. “This.”
His fingers twirl through my hair, and I close my eyes, focusing on the presence of his body. The muscles where his hip meets his stomach tensing under my palm. My mouth glides up and down him as he trembles, the press of his dick against the back of my throat and the groan it elicits each time it makes contact. Being able to give him pleasure like this turns me on so much I start to writhe against his leg, desperate for friction between my own.
“Marin,” he pants, his fingers gripping my shoulder as my mouth fills with the taste of him. He is still for a moment, head back and breathing heavy, but then in one swift and decisive motion, he pulls me up so we are face-to-face and starts kissing me forcefully. His hand moves between my legs, his fingers spreading me open before he puts two of them inside of me. “I missed this so much,” he whispers into my mouth. “All of this.” His thumb presses firmly against my clit as he says it, and the pressure is too much, everywhere, all at once. As my orgasm crests, so do my tears.
XXVI
Teddy
Marin’s body softens against mine in a pile of scratchy sheets and sweat. The morning light illuminates the room, covering our naked bodies. “Why did we go three years without that?” I mutter, tracing my fingers across her back, taking in every detail of her form.
She rolls over and takes my face in her hands. “That’s on me.” Marin wraps the top sheet around herself and walks to the window, pulling back the curtain tentatively.
“My love,” I say, the words comforting in my mouth. “This is the Midwest. I promise you, they’re not going to let snow sit on the interstate overnight. The roads will be fine.”
She scampers across the room like it’s Christmas morning, tripping over her makeshift sheet dress, and kisses me on the cheek. Every second we spend like this feels dreamlike, nearly inconceivable. I can’t help but romanticize the winter storm that landed us here as I listen to the plow trucks back out of the parking lot.
“I’m going to try to channel cold-plunge energy in this shower,” she says, then pauses, puts her hand up. “But not, like, in a wellness way. In a we-have-no-other-option way.”
At that, she drops the sheet and crosses into the bathroom. My eyes trace down her neck, her back, her legs. These parts of her I’ll get to see and touch and kiss again and again. A marvel.
I check my phone. Two texts from Carter. A few from my parents, and a message from Violet. “Sorry if it’s weird I’m texting you, but Mar’s location is somewhere in Illinois, and she won’t call me back. I think she’s with you, which makes me feel better. Will you just let me know when you can?” I smile at the screen. I assure everyone that we’re in one piece and on our way to Iowa City. “More soon,” I type.
Marin dresses in silence. I let myself obsess over the way she wraps her bra around her rib cage, feel the way my heart drops when she asks me to button the back of her shirt. I don’t have to collect these moments like they’re scraps. I’m so used to being starved of them that I don’t know how to respond to the abundance.
“Here’s what we’re going to do,” I say as I repack the trunk of our rental that seems somehow even more yellow in the light of day. “We’ll stick to the interstate, take it slow, and focus on finding a real espresso option as soon as possible.”
Marin laughs, leaning in to kiss my cheek, her giant sunglasses pressed against my face. “I love letting you make the plan.”
On the road, snow mirrors the late-morning sun back at us. Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young plays on the radio. A little Stevie Wonder. It takes herculean focus to steer thehatchback within the plowed lines and not reach over to hold her hand.
“Being in the car with you still makes me nervous,” she jokes. The GPS says we’re an hour and a half out.
Marin
Sitting in the passenger seat just a few miles into Iowa, I wait for my chest to clench the way it always does when I enter this fraught territory. But as we pass the signs to Davenport, my breathing stays steady, my shoulders are relaxed, and I still have a smile on my face that I don’t hold back. It’s like I’ve broken a spell, and there’s nothing left to feel but hope.
Teddy reaches for my hand, pulling it in for a kiss, his eyes never leaving the road. “You’re it, Marin Voss—worth every single night I fell asleep missing you.” We grip each other’s fingers too tightly, a physical expression of the emotions we’ve been clinging to separately for too long.
Snow starts falling, but not like before. Instead, it’s a dusting of individual snowflakes spinning before they land.
I owe it to Teddy to prove what I wrote in my notebook is real, to show him that it’s not a diary: It’s a record of my real feelings and real intentions, ones meant for him to hear. I need to say the words I wrote to him out loud while he’s actually here in front of me, where he can hold me accountable.
I press my back against the door and turn my body toface him, pulling my leg onto the seat. “Teddy, Icouldbe in Iowa with you.”
He grins. “Well, good thing, because youarein Iowa with me. Right now.”
“No, Teddy.” I reach across the console and rest my fingers on his sleeve. “I could live in Iowa with you.”
He glances over at me just long enough to gauge that I’m serious, then puts on his turn signal.
He pulls over to the shoulder of the road, puts the car in park, and unbuckles his seat belt at the same time. He twists toward me and presses his mouth against mine, a perfect fit of two uncontrollable smiles.
And then he laughs against my lips. “Marin,” he says, holding my face in his hands, cold from the steering wheel. “You are not moving to Iowa. That coat,” he gestures at the plush fabric draped over my shoulders, “does not translate in Iowa.”
