Chapter Nineteen

We stop for gas about an hour after we leave Dell's Hollow. El pulls off the highway and steers us through a small town whose name I forget immediately. We pass rows of Victorian houses with peeling paint and wide porches and several trailer parks before reaching the edge of town. A streetlight illuminates a two-pump gas station under a broad metal awning and a falling-down motel next door.

I haul myself off the bike as soon as El parks. My back and legs ache from sitting behind her the whole way, holding her waist, but I have zero regrets. The feel of her body in front of me and the smell of her hair has fully wrapped me in a delectable cocoon of full-on crush, hunger, and exhilaration. I take off my helmet and stretch. The sound of cicadas fills my ears, dense as the summer night air. "Nice driving," I say to El.

"Nice hanging on," she says, lifting her visor and grinning at me. There's a wildness to her right now, a recklessness that was clear in how quickly she hit the throttle on the bike as we pulled away from my house. She was still safe enough on the road as we drove—because you can take the honor student out of the volunteer club, but you can't make her totally rash—though there were definitely some turns where I held on tighter than others.

It's nearly midnight according to my phone, and there's no word from Dad yet. Around my neck sits Mom's necklace, cold and comforting at the same time.

"I'll get gas," I offer, pulling my debit card out of my wallet. All my many years of race winnings are in this checking account, and I know El makes almost nothing at Putt by the Pond.

I slip my card into the machine, and El takes off the gas cap and sticks the handle into the bike. As she's pumping gas, I stretch again and look around.

The gas station would be sketchy if there was anyone in it, but it's empty. Likewise, no cars drive through the tiny town's main street, and there's not even a dog barking. We're out of the mountains and nearly into Virginia, but my phone says Richmond is still at least two hours away. A huge yawn—the kind that makes my ears pop—splits my face.

El's looking at me and my yawn snares her, making her do the same. We both laugh through our yawns, as nerves, elation, and the thrill of the unknown yawn back at us.

A light rain has started since we pulled into the gas station and it whispers against the metal overhang above the pumps.

"So, what now?" I ask, looking up at the rain and the dark road in front of us. Suddenly, the thought of my warm bed feels incredibly enticing. The race, kissing El, the fight with my dad, and now this surprise road trip have left me exhausted. I'm not sure I can hang on to the back of El's bike for another two hours as we drive to Richmond. Not to mention we have no plan for what we'll do once we get there.

El looks up at the sky. "Can you check the weather? I looked before I left my house, but it didn't seem too bad—"

Of course she checked the weather before sneaking out and stealing a bike, because El Blum might be a wild card, but she's a prepared one. It's a little thing, but one I adore about her.

I swipe to my weather app. "It looks like it's going to rain for the next three hours, maybe more. And there's a thunderstorm warning."

El swears softly. "That's what I was worried about. I'd hoped we'd avoid it, but I think we're going to get drenched." She finishes pumping gas and puts the handle away.

I look over my shoulder, at the small roadside motel next to the gas station. There's one car in the parking lot, and the neon sign by the office says IT‘LL Do MOTEL.

You've got to be kidding me.

As if hearing my skeptical thoughts about the "It'll Do," a crack of thunder splits the night and the rain goes from a whisper to a roar.

"Well, we can't stay under this metal awning for the next three hours," I say. "Unless we want to get hit by lightning. And I don't think we should drive in this storm."

"Are you seriously considering the It'll Do Motel?" El says, looking around like a better plan will materialize in the night.

"How bad can it be?" I ask. "It's probably like the motel in Schitt's Creek."

El darts another nervous glance my way. "This place makes that motel look like it's four stars at least."

She isn't wrong, but what other choice do we have?

"C'mon," I say. "It'll be an adventure."

Ten minutes later, a sweet old lady whose name tag says FLORA has checked us into our room and explained some of the history of the It'll Do Motel, including how the name was a joke at first, then a bet, and then somehow became the permanent name for the place. She would've told us more about it, but we pleaded exhaustion. When I'd tried to get two rooms, El had protested.

"I'm not sleeping in this motel alone," she'd hissed.

Which, fine with me. I just hadn't wanted to presume, but I was more than good with sharing a room with her.

After El parks the bike under the covered concrete porch in front of our room, I unlock the door, flick on a light, and suck in a breath.

"Well, this is …" I pause, my words utterly stolen by the sheer amount of floral in the low-ceilinged room. The walls are papered with a green-and-pink roses print, the bedspread on the queen bed is covered in bright yellow daisies, a bright pink-and-blue carpet bursting with miniature flowers has been spread over most of the dingy gray motel carpet, several large floral needlepoints are framed on the walls, and there are no less than three fake flower arrangements on the bedside tables and beside the TV.

El leans against my back, peering into the room. "Wow," she breathes, her voice a whisper beside my ear. "Flora wasn't kidding about the renovations she's been doing."

Before checking us in, Flora assured us that she'd been busy visiting craft stores to spruce up the It'll Do, which had been in her late husband's family for years and is now hers. She'd shown us the tiny blue flowers she was hot-gluing to a vase, and told us she'd give us the best room in the place.

"Wow, indeed," I echo, forcing myself not to lean backward against El's body.

Her closeness absolutely evokes the way she sat on my lap in the Hornet after I won the race. The way our lips grazed each other's. The hand she shoved into my hair to pull me closer to her …

I take a step forward, putting some distance between El and me. Outside, the rain hammers the pavement, and the lone streetlight beside the It'll Do Motel's sign flickers. When El closes the door behind her, there's a long stretch of quiet between us.

Right. We're just two girls alone in a motel room. Two girls who were kissing a few hours ago. And there's only one bed. And we're wearing rain-soaked clothing (well, maybe not soaked, but wet clothing). And I desperately want to kiss El again… .

"This is like a rom-com—" I start to say right as El blurts out, "You can have first shower."

I nod at that, clamping my teeth down on my dorky rom-com comment and, to shake off my nerves, fiddling with one of the fake flowers that's fallen out of its arrangement. Maybe it'll be easier to talk to each other when we're cleaned up.

I take a quick shower in the floral-heavy bathroom (tiles painted with flowers, flower art on the walls, flower shower curtain), and then slip into the long T-shirt and boxers I normally sleep in. When I come out of the bathroom, El's sitting on the edge of the bed, still wearing Max's jacket, looking at her phone.

A pang shoots through me, starting low in my belly but ending somewhere around my heart. She looks up when I close the bathroom door, her eyes lingering at the place where my T-shirt stops on my upper thighs, and then her gaze moves upward.

A laugh bursts from her when she gets to my head, where a hot pink flower-themed towel is wrapped around my wet hair.

The laugh chases some of the tension from the room. I curtsy and pull the towel from my head, making my wet hair cascade around my face. I wave the towel in El's direction. "Flora has not been shy about embracing the florals."

El smiles at me, meeting my eyes. "Entirely. I love a woman with a passion." I hold her gaze for a moment and a briefly panicked look crosses her face. She clears her throat hurriedly.

"You know what I mean," she says. "With the flowers and all. I didn't mean anything about women, or passion, or like your passion for racing, and oh my God, why am I still talking?" She buries her head in her hands with a groan.

A wicked thought runs through my head but it's chased by me taking pity on El and not making her tell me more about how much she likes passionate girls.

I sit down on the edge of the bed next to her. The mattress lets out a groan and sinks at the middle, making me slide nearly into El's lap. My thigh brushes her wet jeans. She looks up in alarm. "Got it on the flowers. Any word from your parents yet?"

Not moving away from me, El gestures with her phone. "They probably think I'm still asleep in my room. Since tomorrow is Sunday, I'm betting we've got at least until noon tomorrow before they figure out I'm gone. What about your dad?"

I pick up my phone, scanning through its apps quickly. "Nope, nothing. He hates confrontation with me, and probably won't even check on me until dinnertime tomorrow night."

She nods, shifting her leg against mine. My bare ankle brushes her calf.

"Well," El says slowly.

"Well …"

She hops up suddenly. "Well, I guess I need to go shower!" With that, she grabs her backpack and hurries into the tiny bathroom, slamming the door as she goes.

Huh.

I run a hand over the indentation her body made in the bedspread. That moment of closeness was painfully uncomfortable. Does El not want to be around me? The way she kissed me in the car says yes, as does her calling me to go on this trip. But maybe she's not really thinking clearly. Maybe she just wants me here for moral support and I'm reading too much into her kisses. Maybe I'll put a pillow between us in the night, just so I don't accidentally roll over and start spooning her. Or maybe that would be a great thing?

The air conditioner kicks on then, sending a blast of freezing air across the tiny room. With it comes a dusty, floral scent that makes me believe Flora has been crushing rose petals and dropping them into the air conditioner. The air makes goosebumps rise across my bare legs, and I grab my messenger bag and scramble under the covers, burrowing deep in the floral sheets. My toes find the warm spot where El was sitting on the bedspread and I dig them into it.

The shower starts in the bathroom and El's voice floats through the thin particleboard door. A smile pulls at the edge of my lips. El Blum sings in the shower. Who knew?

Outside, rain snickers against the windows, and thunder sounds in the distance. I'm so glad we got off the road. For tonight, it feels like we're in a secret pocket of the world. One where none of the adults in our lives know where we are, and where we can be whoever we want to be. I inhale, taking in the scent of roses, dust, and freedom. This is what I crave—little spots of time where I'm answerable to no one and the world unfolds with mystery and promise. Thinking of that, I rifle through my bag, looking for the F1 Academy application.

It's not there. My hands fly over my toothbrush, my extra socks, the tampons I threw into the bag in case my period surprises me, and my wallet, but there's no application.

Panic flares in me, sweeping my breath away, and I grip the strap of the bag. Did the form fly out somewhere while we were driving? Is my dream lost to the winding roads between here and Dell's Hollow? I could reprint it, yes, but I'd not saved the handwritten sections I'd labored over for days. It would be awful to have lost that form.

My mind flies back over the events of the evening, landing on when I pulled out the form and showed it to Dad.

Oh.

That's right, of course.

After I got back to my bedroom, I took the form out and threw it on Grandma's craft table. I'd almost torn it up, but I couldn't quite bring myself to do that. But what was the point of saving it anyway? It's not like Dad was going to sign it. What had he said? "You'll find other dreams, JoJo."

I doubt that, but maybe it is enough to not worry about it tonight. This is the time for existing in the weird rose-scented bubble of Flora's crafting fever and sharing a bed with El Blum. Which is something I'd not even let myself dream about. I drop my messenger bag to the floor and grab my phone.

I'm deep in a TikTok hole by the time El comes out of the bathroom. She's wearing a tank-top-and-sleep-shorts PJ set that's printed with tiny elephants. It's adorable and she gives me a shy smile as she turns off the bathroom light.

"Ready for bed?" she asks, coming over to the side opposite me. She turns on the bedside lamp and pulls back the covers. She slips under them, bringing with her a wave of heat from the shower.

I put my phone and the necklace from my mom on the bedside table with shaking hands. This is it. I'm officially in bed with El Blum for the first time.

I'm not a virgin—I've had sex lots of times, but with exactly two people. First there was Caitlin Walters at summer racing camp last year when we shared a cabin, and after Cait, there was Paul Morris, my boyfriend of a few months last fall. Those times with Cait and Paul were fun, sure, but this feels different. Everything about El feels different. Cait and Paul were casual hookups with lots of flirting. El feels substantial somehow. With her, I know the places where she might break if I don't hold them carefully. I've seen her grief over her sister, and I don't want to cause her more pain.

But I also desperately want to kiss her.

She turns toward me, propped up on one elbow. "Hey, Jo," she says.

I turn toward her, and the mattress sinks again, making it so our noses are nearly touching. "Hey, El."

She scoots a little closer. Our knees touch and I hold absolutely still, trying to control my racing heart.

"Is this okay?" She places one hand on the place where my hips dip into my waist.

"Most incredibly okay," I breathe.

El scoots even closer, tangling her legs with mine. Her thigh grazes my knee, sending heat through me. "And this?

"Also okay."

I lean in, planting a featherlight kiss on her lips. She closes her eyes, and the small hungry noise she makes nearly undoes me.

She pulls me to her, so our breasts touch, and that's it—I'm officially all in. Our kisses deepen, growing more fast and furious with each touch. We're shoestrings wrapped around each other and everything in this moment is our hands, El's hair on my cheek, her warm breath, and—

And then she stops kissing me abruptly, pulling away in one quick motion.

"Oh no," she whispers. She covers her mouth, and her eyes widen in horror.

"What?"

I swear, if El tells me this is a mistake, I'm going to spend the night under a floral towel in the bathtub.

"I'm wearing my retainer." El groans and pulls the covers up to her face. "I cannot believe I'm kissing the hottest girl I've ever met, and I forgot to take out my damn retainer."

Her voice comes out muffled from beneath the blankets, but I can't help but laugh in relief. She wants to kiss me.

I pull the covers down and kneel in front of her. "For what it's worth, I didn't even notice," I say, brushing a piece of her blond hair behind her ears. "What are the chances I could get you to spit out that retainer and we pick up where we left off?"

"High," says El, turning her head and removing her orthodontic hardware. She plops it on the bedside table and turns off the light.

A thin strip of light from under the door is enough to show me El's eyes as she snuggles under the covers next to me.

"Hey, Jo," she says, her lips right beside my ear.

"Hey, El," I whisper back, stealing a quick kiss.

"I'm so glad you came with me on this trip." She cups my face with her hand, and I lean into the touch for a moment.

"I'm so glad you asked me, Motorcycle Girl?," I say softly. "Now, can we please stop talking?"

El leans in for a kiss at that and I pull the covers over us, shutting out the storm, the scent of dried roses, and the rest of the world. Just for tonight.