Thankfully, she wasn’t paying close enough attention to realize he wasn’t taking the most direct route to Chicago. He wanted to get back to the historic highway he’d traveled all those years ago. Despite their new-found connection, he still didn’t think he could explain why.
Not yet.
He placated her by only stopping at the most memorable spots—the giant road sign that let them know they were officially in Oklahoma, an old Art Deco styled Conoco station that looked like the real-life inspiration for the animated movie, Cars, and a quick drive through the historic downtown in Sayre, Oklahoma, where they indulged in ice cream at one of the country’s oldest soda fountains.
He snapped several photos at each of location, chronicling even the smallest details of the trip, making every single moment into a memory. He also managed to take a few more candid ones of Lauren.
They took turns playing songs for each other on her Spotify, and he made her laugh more than once with his horrendously off-key singing. When that got old, she forced him to dictate to her a letter expressing interest in the head coaching position, which he still wasn’t sure he wanted to send. And after that, she dozed off for a good hour while he concentrated on the sounds of the road and not on how adorable she looked lightly snoring in his passenger seat.
If he didn’t count the beginning of the trip, Lauren actually made a pretty excellent travel companion.
In honor of her wish, he drove a little later than in previous days, but when the sun started to drop in the sky, he pulled off onto the shoulder, turned on his hazards, got out of the SUV and sat on the hood, taking in the scene before him. He wasn’t the type to let a moment pass, not when the moment was this good. Up ahead was nothing but open plains—miles and miles of fields and farmland, and while he could appreciate the stellar views of oceans or snow-capped mountains rising over a horizon, there was something so familiar, so comforting, about this scene in front of him now.
Tonight, God was showing off, as pink and blue melded into purple, touched with a warm orange glow and the outline of the clouds, the fields, and the dusty road that seemed to stretch out in front of them forever.
The passenger side clicked open and Lauren got out of the Jeep, joining him on the hood. She said nothing, only fixed her gaze on the spectacular view in front of them, as if she knew the moment needed no words.
Then, just before the sun disappeared, she held her phone up and snapped a photo of him.
“For your scrapbook,” she said.
He smiled. Man, he liked being around her. It surprised him, really, given how different they were and how little they had in common. He may have promised Spencer he’d keep his distance from her, but that seemed like a million years ago.
Before, the promise made sense. He wouldn’t have been any good for Lauren, no matter how good she probably would’ve been for him. Thinking back on how he was, he shuddered. Sometimes flashes of his previous actions would paralyze him, and he had to literally shake them out of his head.
He couldn’t change what was. His friendship with Lauren was new. It meant something to him.
Why then, did he reach over and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear? He wanted a better view of her face—but there was no way he was going to say that out loud.
She stiffened at his touch, and he quickly pulled his hand away.
What was I thinking?
This wasn’t just some girl—this was Lauren. Lauren, the girl you marry.
She shifted. “It looks a little like home.” The words sounded flat, even to him.
He should apologize or say something witty. But try as he might, he couldn’t find words.
“Wanna know something crazy?” She slid off the hood to the side of the car. “When I’m in California, I miss the cornfields.”
He watched her as she tucked her hands in her jeans’ pockets, her face lit by the gentle glow of the sun slipping out of sight. “Oh, that’s not so crazy.”
“You don’t think?” She faced him. “I mean, most people probably don’t find Illinois to be very beautiful. We don’t have mountains or oceans, but we have so much green. It’s not green in California. I miss it sometimes.”
“I get that,” he said. “I miss it too.”
Common ground.
She smiled, and he felt himself relax, hoping this meant she wasn’t reading too much into his stupid move.
“If you miss it, maybe you should go back more often,” he said.
She shrugged. “Besides Spencer, it’s about the only thing I miss.”