Jess wakes up in the dim light of the cheap hotel (or was this one a motel?) she and Nick had managed to stumble across and snag the night before.
They'd arrived late and had been relieved to find a hotel flashing the always-encouraging vacancy light (unlike that time in the Grand Canyon where they spent hours trying to find a decent place with a vacancy and then gave up and looked for any place that had a vacancy) and booked a room within minutes. They'd both been exhausted by the time they checked in and Jess wasn't even sure she knew the name of the hotel, let alone its Yelp reviews, which was completely unlike her. She was used to researching her accommodations well in advance… but at the very least the past few days she'd been frantically Googling them on her phone before she and Nick made a commitment. They'd narrowly avoided a Hampton Inn with "dead roaches in the bathroom and mysterious stains on the bedspreads" thanks to this skill.
It wasn't the first time in the past few days that she'd done something so unlike herself, either.
The sun begins to shine through the parted curtains, rousing her even more. She glances at the clock, flashing bright red numbers at her. 6:43am. They'd gotten in well after midnight, but surprisingly she feels energized.
What were they doing.
What had started out as a simple "Give me the keys," had led to a week away from home and a mini road trip across the Southwest. They'd driven through California, Arizona, New Mexico and had crossed the border into Texas just for the hell of it, since neither of them had ever been to Texas before. They ate in a little diner that had guns displayed proudly on the wall and spent the night in a hotel just across the Texas-New Mexico border. Other than stopping at the Grand Canyon, they mostly found unknown, random, quirky destinations to visit like the Museum of Roadkill (she hadn't been a fan) in Arizona.
This had been the last thing she'd expected when they'd hopped in the car that night. They hadn't even been prepared to travel. They'd bought a couple of changes of clothes along the way from gift shops and cheap stores, they were living off complimentary toiletries from the hotel rooms that supplied them (the "finer" establishments, as Nick called them which in reality weren't very fine but compared to the room they found in New Mexico at 3am, a Holiday Inn definitely qualified as "finer"), and they'd had to buy a cell phone charger somewhere along the way, too. Rather than buy two chargers, Nick's phone was now out of commission and they were surviving solely with Jess's since it was equipped with GPS and unlimited minutes rather than Nick's allotted 300 minutes a month cell phone plan.
Not to mention she has no idea what has become of her sari and Nick's suit (borrowed from Schmidt). They'd tucked them into the back of the car that first morning, after Jess changed into a "I Love CA" t-shirt she bought for cheap from the gift shop of the hotel they'd stayed in. She is sure they were in dire need of dry cleaning. The suit seemed to be rejected by Schmidt, but the sari is rented and she wonders if they are going to keep her deposit after all this. Oh well.
"My way's slower!" Nick had exclaimed that night as they took off in her car.
"Why would you want to go slower?" she'd shouted, laughing in her delight. In that moment everything felt new and perfect and exciting. She had been fully expecting him to say no to her. In fact, if she was honest, she had been expecting him to stay inside that bar all night and not come looking for her. She was doubly thrilled that he'd come after her, and that he'd changed his mind… and mostly that he hadn't hidden behind his true feelings and kept on pretending that calling it was for the best (the way she, too, almost had).
"I just want some time. For… us," he'd said, his voice surprisingly serious. "I don't want to go to the loft just yet and have to deal with those two clowns."
She'd laughed, but she had realized right away that he'd had a point. Right now the last thing she wanted to do was go another round with Schmidt and "Was I?" or some other inane chaos when she had things to do with Nick. Things to do to Nick, especially. She also knew they probably needed to talk about things and that was never going to happen at home.
"Let's spend the night somewhere," she'd declared suddenly, her way of agreeing with him.
"Huh?"
"Let's drive and just… find a hotel, let's not go home tonight." She felt rebellious and impulsive and she liked it. Had she ever done something like this?
Nick had grinned at her and now, here they were, eight days later.
Nick was still slumbering beside her, so she took a moment to glance at her phone on the nightstand. Nothing. Cece seemed to have calmed down about Schmidt in the past few days. Jess felt a little guilty bailing on her best friend after her failed wedding and declaring her love for an ex-boyfriend who may not choose to be with her, but she hadn't known about that situation at the time. She'd spent time chatting with Cece on the phone and they'd talked it out as well as they would've in person. Cece had shown no signs of animosity in Jess and Nick's adventure, but sometimes Jess still felt like a little bit of a bad friend.
Then she'd take a look at Nick who was usually sleeping right beside her (in bed or in the passenger seat of her car) or sitting right beside her (driving or riding shotgun) and she didn't care.
They had been together nonstop for eight days and they hadn't killed each other yet. She was thrilled at how this was going: this was the beginning and she felt like this was an excellent bonding experience for them as a couple (a couple!).
She'd been a bad daughter, too. She hadn't even said goodbye to her father before he left for Portland. She'd even lied to him that she was spending the night with Cece, "You know, after everything that happened." He'd seemed to understand, Jess even felt like he was proud of her for being there for her friend in her time of need (guilt trip number two!), but she was sure that he'd ended up noticing Nick's absence from the loft, too. She hoped that maybe he would just find it to be a coincidence.
Oh well. She was being an amazing girlfriend.
They were having fun. They were laughing. They were talking about all kinds of things. They were having some fantastic sex and they were getting good at it, quick. It had been good since that first time, but they were quickly getting more comfortable and familiar with each other. Nick had figured her out within days, he'd even found that spot behind her right ear, and… damn.
Nick seems to know he's in her thoughts, because he grumbles and rolls over, searching out her waist in the process.
"Morning," he mumbles sleepily. He seems to take a minute to go through the same 'Where are we now?' process that Jess had done not long before.
"Goooood morning," she says in a sing-song voice, leaning forward to give him a kiss. "Happy Memorial Day!" she adds, giving a little salute she hopes will come across as pretty All American.
Nick laughs. "Is that today?" he asks, his eyes drooping closed again. "At least today's a legitimate day to be playing hooky from work."
"Are you sure you're not going to get in trouble at the bar?"
"Nah. I had two days off anyway, and Bob was happy to take my shifts this week. He wants the doubles, he's saving up to go to Tahiti."
"Tahiti?" Jess asks with a laugh. She can't picture Big Bob in Tahiti. "Why Tahiti?"
"I dunno, he's going with his girlfriend. You know girls." Jess raises her eyebrows at him and he opens his eyes, seemingly knowing he's going to be greeted with a look. "They're wonderful and amazing and all that."
"That's more like it."
"Especially mine," he tells her, reaching out to pull her closer. She feels a little thrill and butterflies in her stomach at his words. Mine. I'm his.
"Is that so."
"That's so."
She laughs and wriggles her eyebrows at him. "Want to do something patriotic in honor of the holiday?"
Nick chuckles. "That's not exactly what I'd call patriotic," he says as he rubs her thigh under the covers. "Fun, maybe. Patriotic, not so much."
"Sure it is! Really, what's more American than having some amazing sex in a cheap hotel room in the middle of… where are we?"
"Sedona. And probably a super sized meal from McDonalds. Or apple pie."
"Not as much fun."
"You've got that right," Nick says with a growl, pulling her to his lips.
"Burns calories this way," she adds between kisses. "Instead of putting them on."
"Definitely." The talk stops as the kisses go from short and sweet to longer and more intense. Nick's just about ready to flip her over when she interrupts.
"Hey," she says, pulling away momentarily. He's already getting used to this. "We've only had sex at home- at the loft- once. We've had sex in random hotel rooms thirteen times."
"You've been keeping track?" Nick asks, raising his eyebrows at her.
"No. Well, yes. I guess. It just kind of happens. 'Oh this is the first time. Oh now it's been two times. This was the third time' then eventually you just… lose track. Is that weird?"
Nick shrugs. "It's weird the number isn't higher," he tells her with a growl, kissing her neck and making her sigh.
"Thirteen is pretty good. It's been only eight days!"
"I've got news for ya Jess, we're about to make it fourteen real soon." He nibbles at her ear, making her gasp. "In case you weren't aware."
"It's just funny that we've had sex out here across America more times than in our apartment."
"As soon as we get home we'll catch up real quick," Nick assures her and she laughs, really laughs, and she can't help but think about how happy she is right now. With Nick Miller.
She's been having such an amazing time with him on this trip these past eight days, it thrills her a little to realize it's going to continue when they get home. They're going to continue when they get home.
This trip was the best confidence boost in them she could've asked for. The fears she'd had were slowly disappearing. Maybe she is realizing they could do this, or maybe she is just falling for him more and more until they don't matter to her anymore.
"God Bless America," she says, and they both burst out laughing.