“Back to civilization,” Lincoln said, echoing Sebastian’s thoughts. Sebastian found himself wishing that the trip would keep going; that they could ride into Canada, past Niagara Falls and Lake Ontario, and onward from there. Bike trips—any trips—were a liminal space, a kind of between place, apart from the routines of work and job and waking up in the same place every morning. Sebastian wasn’t ready for it to end. Especially not when he thought about the pretty pink Abby’s skin flushed when he’d kissed her, how she’d slipped both her small hands into his hair and tugged it, gently, then hard enough to make him shiver.
He found himself staring into the distance with what he suspected was an extremely moony smile on his face. He sniffed the air. “Do you smell that?”
“Honey Nut Cheerios,” said Lou, who’d come up on their left. “There’s a General Mills factory in Buffalo, so whatever cereal they’re making, that’s what you’re smelling. Last time Ted and I came through, everything smelled like Lucky Charms.”
She waved and rode off. Sebastian looked at his friend. “Isn’t Sue married to Ted?”
“I think so? And don’t change the subject. If you want to be with this woman, you’d better say something.”
Sebastian nodded, thinking that Abby knew everything that was important about him; everything that mattered. She’d seen him at his weakest and his worst, as the butt of a thousand Twitter and TikTok jokes. She’d seen him naked. And he’d seen her. He knew the way she’d fuss with her ponytail when she was nervous or thinking; the way she would arrange the pillows to make her burrow every night, and how, sometimes, she’d pull a pillow over her stomach when they were in bed, and how he’d have to kiss her and touch her until she forgot about how she looked and he could gently pull the pillow away and toss it on the floor.
He wanted to spend more time with her. He wanted to learn everything she liked, her favorite songs and movies and restaurants. He wanted to go with her on another bike trip, just the two of them. Maybe it wasn’t love. Maybe it was too soon for him to be sure. But he wanted more time with her. Of that, he was positive.
The Empire State Trail ended （or began, depending on which direction you were going） on the shores of Lake Erie in Buffalo. The Breakaway riders arrived at just after four o’clock in the afternoon. They took turns posing at the blue-and-gold metal plaque that marked the trail’s terminus. Morgan, who’d been riding in the sag wagon, still looked a little pale and drawn, but she smiled when she posed with Lily, and the Pressers arranged their boys and bikes and bodies in front of the sign, laughing as Abby took their picture. Sebastian took a picture of Abby with her mother. Abby took a picture of Lincoln and Sebastian （“Want to make a TikTok?” she’d asked them, her face innocent, and they’d both shouted, “No!” at the same time）。 Then Lincoln had taken pictures of Sebastian with Abby. He’d put his arm around her, pulling her close, and she’d looked up at him, smiling, a little flushed. He’d wanted to kiss her, but Eileen was still around. They’d have the night together, and all day tomorrow, for deciding what came next. Instead of pleasant anticipation, Sebastian felt anxiety nibbling at the edges of his happiness. Three more nights. Two more days. Then all of this would be over.
They got back on their bikes, and Abby led the group through downtown Buffalo, onto a quiet, tree-lined street, to the night’s B and B. He’d been riding beside her, and they’d been laughing, coasting along, talking about where to go for dinner, and how many Buffalo wings they’d eat, when Sebastian saw Abby go very still.
He followed her gaze and saw a dark-haired man who was standing in the driveway of the house where they’d be staying. He was medium-sized, trim and fit in khakis and a button-down shirt. His hair was short, and he had the sharp jawline of a superhero, and he was looking at Abby, expressionless.
“Oh, shit,” Abby said softly, and let her bike coast to a stop.
“Abby,” said the man. He pulled out his phone, consulted its screen, and looked up again, eyes narrowed. He wasn’t looking at Abby, Sebastian realized. He was looking at him. His skin prickled as he squeezed his brakes, pulling over by the side of the road and unclipping his shoes from the pedals.
“Mark?” Abby’s voice was a little squeaky. “What are you doing here?”
Instead of answering, Mark waited until Abby was close enough, then brandished his phone’s screen at her. Abby looked down, at whatever he was showing her. When she raised her head, he could see a flush creeping up her neck.