Page 39 of Not Another Yesterday
We get to Nashville a little while later and grab some lunch before I check us into the hotel for the night.
“You have standards,” Miranda says as we step into the room, which is bright, modern, and clean.
“Didn’t want to risk catching some disease.” I throw my backpack on one of the two queen-sized beds. I made sure to book a room with two so we each had our own.
“I’m just glad there wasn’t a blacklight in that Pikeville room. Aside from the bathroom, I’m pretty sure the bed, the carpet—hell, the walls—would’ve lit up like a Jackson Pollock painting,” I say with a disgusted face. “There were probably fluids all over that damn place. Did you see those lampshades?” I shudder.
“Ew, Rony,” Miranda laughs. “On the lamps and walls?”
“Not everyone has great aim.” I shrug, and she dissolves into a new fit of laughter. That’s something I’ve always been able to do—make her laugh. No matter how bleak things got for either of us, I could always crack her open just enough to let in some light. When you’re freefalling, that matters. Iknow.
“Gross,” she wheezes.
“I swear there are documentaries about how nasty motels are. I bet the one we stayed at last night was featured in one of those. You know they’ve found semen on remote controls?”
Miranda struggles to catch her breath from laughing so hard.
“Stop, Rony,” she screeches, tears streaming down her face as she holds her stomach, doubled-over. “That’s so nasty.”
“I’m truly sorry to burst your bubble about how clean last night’s place was.”
“You don’t even know if it really was as bad as you think it was,” she says, desperately trying to catch her breath. “Okay, the place was old, but—”
“Dude, I couldsmellthe stale cum on the sheets. And those pillows were way too stiff and crinkly.”
Miranda folds her arms over her stomach like she did this morning. “Rony, seriously, you need to stop. I can’t breathe…” she squeals.
I stretch my arms over my head. “Fine. I’ll shower, and then maybe we can grab you some clothes once you catch your breath.” I grin and pull a fresh pair of boxers and a clean long-sleeved henley from my backpack.
When I walk into the bathroom, the white tile looks clean and the space smells fresh. Much better.
I stand under the shower for a long while, relishing the hot water, my muscles relaxing with the warmth. I wash myself thoroughly and brush my teeth for a second time today before finally drying off and slipping into my fresh boxers and shirt, then pull on my jeans again. Incredible what a hot shower can do for the body and soul.
***
Miranda and I set out and spend a couple of hours getting some basic necessities for her to take to Montana, along with a temporary phone and some new clothes.
I shake my head with a groan when Miranda holds up a lacy thong-and-bra set and notes how unsatisfactory the selection is at the store we’re in.
“I took your virginity, Rony. Stop acting all shy around me,” she says with a wicked grin before she throws the underwear into her shopping basket, then drags me onward.
Half an hour later, we leave the store with the essentials. It’s not much, but it’ll get her by until Miranda has the chance to stock up.
Once we’re back at the hotel, I fall stomach-first onto my bed, send off a quick text to Cat with only the words “I love you,” then pass out. I didn’t get great sleep last night, and this is the first real chance I’ve had to rest since getting Miranda’s call yesterday morning. I only wake up when Miranda rouses me a couple hours later, telling me she’s hungry. I’m too damn tired to go anywhere and happily agree when Miranda suggests room service.
I check my phone, but there’s neither a message nor a missed call from Cat. I haven’t heard from her at all today and it’s making me surprisingly antsy. It’s not like I can’t go a day without hearing from Cat. I can and I do. All the time. We’re both busy people; we don’t constantly expect check-ins. Still, I’m oddly restless. I texted her twice today without a response.
“So, how are things back home?” Miranda asks, then takes a bite of her dinner that just got delivered to our room.
“Pretty good,” I say with a nod as I inspect my club sandwich. I take off the ham I had specifically asked them to leave off.Yuck.
“Do you still work at that bar?”
“Yep.”
“And Columbia? Is it everything you dreamed it would be?”
I chuckle. “Umm, sure.”
