Page 40 of Resurrection
The mention of Ernie’s hits me like a wave. All those late nights and greasy burgers, sitting in his beat-up car, thinking we had forever. "Yeah. It’s still around." I try to sound casual, but on the inside, I’m all fire.
"Or we could do something else," he adds quickly. "Whatever you want."
"Ernie’s is fine," I say, feeling the flutter in my chest again. "I haven’t been there in a while. Perfect opportunity."
"Sounds great." He packs up his guitar with the same care he used to take with me, and we leave the rehearsal room together. We’re walking side by side, and I’m hyper-aware of everything. How close we are. How natural it feels. Like no time has passed but also like I’m holding an electrical wire.
In the parking lot, he points at an Audi. It’s a far cry from the rusty thing he drove in high school. His father bought him a used Honda Civic for his seventeenth birthday, and he was so attached to that car.
"Hop in," Tyler says, opening the door with a flourish. "No sticky seats this time."
I get into the passenger seat. "You’ll drop me off back here after?"
"Of course." He rounds the vehicle and settles behind the wheel.
The interior smells like leather and him, a mix that’s both new and nostalgic. I buckle up, trying not to read too much into this. Into any of it.
Tyler’s car glides down familiar streets and I relax into the leather seat, pretending this is just a ride with an old friend and that the radio playing softly and Tyler humming along is no big deal.
We pass places that are loaded with history, each one a mile marker in the story of us. I point out what’s changed and what hasn’t, trying to focus on the scenery instead of the guy behind the wheel.
"There’s that taco stand. Remember?" I say, gesturing out the window. "We used to get dinner for a three dollars and twenty-five cents."
"Sure do," he replies and glances over at me. "Best cheap date spot in town. It’s still there."
"Looks like it. But there’s competition now. Big, fancy restaurants. Some chef from San Diego opened a sushi place."
"Just what Sageview Ridge needs," he jokes. "You gonna take me there next?"
I snort, turning my head to look at his profile. "Like you’d set foot in a sushi place."
He laughs as he takes a right down a street that seems smaller than I remember. "I’d set foot in any place you take me to."
I ignore the comment, watching my childhood landmarks roll by. There’s the movie theater where we had our first real date and the park where we used to hang out after school, making out under the stars.
"Wow," Ty says, his voice full of awe. "They haven’t torn down the drive-in."
"No, they haven’t."
"They still show movies there?"
I nod, feeling the pull of the past. "Friday nights. Two for one."
"What about this place?" he asks and gestures at a new strip mall in the distance. "Wasn’t that the old video store?"
I roll my eyes, remembering all the bad action movies he used to rent. "Guess you’ll have to find somewhere else to get your B-movie fix."
He gives me a playful shove, his eyes still on the road. "You loved those movies. Admit it."
"Maybe," I say, letting myself get caught up in this easy back-and-forth. It feels dangerously good.
We’re pulling up to Ernie’s, and I’m steeling myself for what it’ll feel like to sit with him again, late-night-burger style. Then my phone rings—a buzz that snaps me back to reality.
I see Koda’s name and feel my heart sink. It’s never a good sign when the owner of the casino where your business is located calls you at this hour. It’s not necessarily late, but it’s not working hours either.
I’m tempted to let the call go to voicemail, but my sense of responsibility doesn’t allow for it. Instead, I swipe at the Answer button.
"Koda?"
