Page 136 of A Love Letter to Whiskey
After the sixth time, I cursed, typing out a text that was as desperate as I felt.
— I need you, B. Please. —
My heart was in my throat as I watched those little bubbles bouncing again. But this time…
— See you in twenty. Lot G. —
I was out the door in two minutes flat.
• • •
I shivered a bit as I stood against my Jeep waiting for B, even in my Alder hoodie and sweatpants. My hair was still a little damp from my shower earlier, and likely a fucking mess from how much I’d run my hands through it since then.
I had my eyes on my shoes, thoughts racing, until I heard the soft taps of her sneakers against the pavement. I looked up, my heart stopping in my chest when I laid eyes on her after so long.
She stopped, like she felt it, too, and I drank her in.
B wore sweatpants, too, and an oversized sweater that hung off her shoulder. She didn’t have a stitch of makeup on, but her skin glowed like the sun, her eyes bright and showing me without her saying a word that she was scared of me.
Of being close to me.
Of what she might do if the opportunity was right.
Her hair was resting on her shoulders in tight, ringlet curls, still slightly wet. She opened her mouth like she wanted to say something, but then she closed it again, waiting.
I frowned, more emotions than I fully understood at that age rushing through me as I took in the sight of her, as I realized what just seeing her did to me.
It made me burn, it made me fucking wild with jealousy, and somehow, it made me feel like everything would be okay, too.
I pushed off the side of my Jeep before I really realized what I was doing, and then she was in my arms.
She inhaled a stiff breath as I wrapped her up, dropping my head to the crown of hers and squeezing her tight. She was hesitant, but then her arms snaked around me, too, and she held me just the same.
I couldn’t get her close enough.
Every second that I held her, relief bled into me like a warm summer breeze. I inhaled the scent of her shampoo, citrusy and sweet, wishing I could just hold her like that forever.
“Jamie,” she breathed, trying to pull away.
“Not yet,” I pleaded.
She paused, but nodded against my chest, and I held her for a moment more before pressing a selfish kiss to her forehead. I let her go then, climbing into the Jeep as she took up her usual spot in my passenger seat.
André Gagnon blasted from my speakers as I threw the Jeep in drive and drove us off campus. I knew where I wanted to take her, but first, I just wanted to drive.
I kept silent, my eyes on the road. My body hummed with the need to talk to her, to tell her what was going on. I cracked my neck a few times on the drive, tapping my thumb on the steering wheel, my knuckles white where I gripped it. I didn’t relax until B kicked her boots off and propped her fuzzy sock-covered feet up on my dash.
Seeing her like that had me loosing a sigh, the tension in my shoulders ebbing.
Two hours passed on that drive, both of us silent and listening to the music. Finally, we drove slowly through Mission Valley and Pacific Beach before winding up through Bird Rock toward La Jolla. We both rolled our windows down, B hanging her hand out the window and surfing the air waves as the heat still blasted high enough to keep us both from freezing.
I pulled into a parking space, cutting the engine and hopping out without a word. I grabbed the large bag I’d packed from my trunk, and then I started walking.
B didn’t even ask where we were, she just followed.
I wound us through a few small houses and a grove before walking onto a small, secluded beach. It was a hidden spot, public — though, from how close it was to the elaborate houses on its edge, most people assumed it was private property.
I pulled a thick blanket out of the bag I’d packed, laying it out on the beach before I took a seat. I glanced back up at B, pulling out a second blanket for her to cover up with and patting the spot next to me.
She peeled off her boots and plopped down beside me, and I covered us both with the blanket, our shared warmth easing the bite of the cool wind.
“What would you do if everything you had planned for your future went up in flames and there was nothing you could do about it?”
B was leaning back on her hands, her eyes on the ocean, and she shifted a bit. “Find a new future, I suppose.”
