maya.

We hooked up a few more times that summer. We didn't really talk about it, but it kept happening. I think that, in the wake of our breakup and with all of the time and the tension that built up in the months that followed, there was almost something chemical to it. Like we were physically making up for lost time.

Sometimes, in my aftershocks, while we were spread out together woven in between the linens of my high-rise queen bed, I'd try to feel less naked despite not wearing any clothes.

"…I mean, we're exes," I once slurred with vindication as he tried to steady his breathing. "Exes do this sort of thing all the time, don't they?"

Or, "We're still friends, aren't we?" I had excused once or twice. "So, that's a thing, isn't it? 'Friends with benefits', or whatever it's called?"

But one evening as I curled myself into his side, my reflection delved deeper. "If anything, it's probably sentimental. We're about to be thousands of miles apart. Who knows when we'll see each other again…If we'll see each other again…"

That time, he didn't just let me stew in my validation and softly agree at my bedside; he sucked his teeth in measured thought before hugging around my middle. "I'll come visit you, you know."

I shook my head, brushing it off with a hollow chuckle. "You don't have to do that. It's bad enough that you're gonna drive me all that way there and then go all the way back."

"I don't mind," He countered. "Really."

I think that's the moment that stuck to my ribcage and stayed with me, parasitic and cold, until the night before our road trip; as I perched in his lap, his arms draped around my waist and tongue brushing along mine, fully submerged in a heated pool of shared lust, I felt it suddenly slam at my heart and burst in a chilling explosion.

I froze.

He felt it, I imagine, as he stiffened up himself and retracted from the kiss we'd been building. "…You okay?"

Hesitation washed over me. Icy shards of doubt and dread embedded into my lungs. I forgot how to breathe for a moment.

But, I combed my hair back away from my face and forced an unconvincing smile. "Fine! I'm fine." Tilting my head and dipping back in, I tried to deepen the kiss to distract him. Heat it up, even.

But he knew me better than that. "…Hey, if you're having second thoughts, we can stop." He tenderly pushed me back. "We don't have to do this."

"No, I want to do this," I insisted, thinking I was frustrated with him for stopping but knowing it was because he was onto me. I leaned back to peel my shirt over my head and tossed it to the side. Mustering up my attempt at bedroom eyes, I hooked my thumbs through the belt loops of his jeans. "We're leaving tomorrow. We might never get the chance to do this again."

"I mean, I already told you I'd visit," He smirked, his hands roaming my now-bare sides but noticeably avoiding my bra. Tempted, but not seduced.

"And I already told you that you don't have to," I managed a giggle, guiding him back on the mattress and placing a kiss at his neck.

"Yeah, but I want to," His brows bridged together. "Why? Do…you not want me to?"

I shook my head, "It's not that, it's just…" My mouth hung dumbly open for words that didn't even know how to form.

He touched his tongue to the corner of his mouth and let out a heavy sigh, propping himself up on his elbows. "Talk to me."

My mouth screwed up in thought. I took a very, very deep breath, in through my nose, out through my mouth, and shook my head. "…I…just…keep feeling like I have to justify myself for even doing this," I shrugged. "With you."

He frowned slightly. "How come?"

"Because…I should still be mad at you, right?" I sat back, "I shouldn't just be…letting you back into bed with me."

"…Are you? Mad at me, I mean? Because if you are, I get it, I really screwed up—"

"No, I'm not—I mean…not really…not anymore, I…think…" My tongue ran across the backs of my teeth,, my fingernails raked through the roots of my hair. "Like, don't get me wrong, I was—like I really, really was, but…I don't know." I wet my lips. "So much has…just…happened since then."

"…And…?"

"…And…now…" My hands fell into my lap and I shrugged. "I don't know how to feel about…you know." I bent my fingers in air quotes. "'Us'."

He nodded slowly. I could see the gears turning in his head, like he was trying to assess the proper way to navigate the situation. History taught him well. "…Do…you want us to get dressed again?"

"—No, I don't mean like that, I wanted to do this—or…at least I thought I did—"

"I mean, if you changed your mind, it's really okay. I know we just kind of…jumped back into things."

"But did we really?" My nose crinkled. "Like this is always what we've done. This…back and forth…thing…And I know you've been with Esme all year, but it's not like it took us all that long, to…I don't know…"

"…Fall back into old habits."

"Yeah. Exactly." I exhaled. "And I haven't minded it. Since we almost kissed at prom, I've just, felt this…this, sort of…" I wet my lips, looking upwards in thought.

Slowly, he nodded. "…Yeah. I know. I've felt it, too."

"But now that it's happening, I just feel like…okay, what's next? Yeah, this has been great but, do we tell people? I'm sure they already know, but what are they gonna say? How does it look?"

"Hey—"

"Because on one hand, yeah, Grace and Jonah were all 'just kiss already' and I know Tiny already told you that he figured we were having sex again by now but I feel like it just looks bad, plus, I'm moving to California tomorrow, how are we gonna manage that?"

"Maya—"

"—Are we gonna get all jealous if we see other people? Are we gonna even want to see other people? Is this gonna become some long-distance thing—because then I can't think about that without remembering how you couldn't even handle me going to New York for a few days with Jonah—"

"Maya!" He sat up and grabbed me by the shoulders. "Breathe."

I'd forgotten how. My head was spinning from how quickly I'd spiraled, and my nerves were tingling from my neck down my spine, and my chest was shallowly heaving with hyperventilation and my fingers shook as they went numb and

"Breathe."

I paused, and looked up at him. With a nod, I let myself deflate. I breathed in deeply through my nose, held it for three seconds, out through my mouth, held it for five seconds. He nodded, so I did it again: in, four, out, six. His thumbs trailed from the pits of my clavicles out to the tops of my arms.

If there was one thing I could depend on Zig Novak for, it was knowing how to calm me down.

When I spoke again, my tone was audibly smoother. "I'm overcomplicating this, aren't I?"

"Maybe a little," He chuckled sweetly, his tone babyish but syrupy as he gave my shoulders a squeeze. "But I can't tell you how to feel. Plus, I understand where you're coming from."

"You do?"

"Of course," His posture straightened. "This has been…familiar, and…great, but…yeah. It does pose a few questions. Especially about what happens next."

"Yeah," I pouted, "Exactly. Because…obviously, we've missed each other."

"Well, yeah. That's been made…very clear." His smarmy grin made me laugh.

"You're such a doofus."

"I'd like to think that's part of my charm by now." He winked, his hands trickling down my arms and taking each of mine. "…How about this: moving forward, whatever we do, or…don't do—whatever we are…can be totally up to you."

My forehead creased. "I don't understand."

"Like, for now…whatever you need this to be, it can be." He sighed, "Look, I spent…years chasing after you, even when you didn't want me to. Then, when you needed me the most, I wasn't there for you at all."

I shook my head, "No, you couldn't have known—"

"Yes, I could have." His features faltered.

My bottom lip trembled. "…You had a girlfriend—"

"But that didn't mean I had to neglect you." He closed his eyes and drew me in closer by our fingers. "You needed someone to be there for you, and I wasn't."

"But that wasn't your responsibility—"

"Just…let me say this." He chuckled solemnly. "I…have never just…been what you needed me to be: a good friend, a good boyfriend, someone to talk to, someone to…not talk to…" He smirked gently, eyes scanning the room. "And no matter how I've treated you, you've always kept my best interests at heart. Even when I didn't deserve it." His eyes slipped shut for a moment, then opened to meet with mine. "It's high time I return the favor."

My eyebrows furrowed. "Zig, you don't owe me that—"

"It's the least I can do," He squeezed my knuckles between his. "You're about to be going through some big life changes. You're going to be stressed. I don't need to add onto that, but…if it helps, maybe I can…I don't know. Be on standby. For whatever you need." He shrugged. "It's not like I have any other plans at the moment."

I chewed over my bottom lip. "…I don't want you to just…sit around waiting for me to make up my mind."

"It wouldn't be the first time I waited for you."

"Yeah, and look how well that turned out."

"Well, this time I'm actually asking you first." He laughed coolly. "Besides, it's not gonna be a matter of you making up your mind. It'll be…me, being here for you, however you need me to be, for however long you need me to be it, no pressure on my end. Just…everything on your terms. For once." He raised his eyebrows. "Does that sound okay?"

Mulling it over, I let out a quiet laugh. "When did you get all wise and shit, anyway?"

Bashfully, he beamed. "Since I already managed to lose you once and It hurt like hell, and it was entirely my fault as much as I couldn't admit it…And the fact that you even want me back in your life is a miracle, so…I'm not about to mess it up by being a complete jackass all over again."

"Fair." I teased, nudging his arm with mine. His features brightened up. I swung his arms with mine for a moment before nodding. "Yeah. That all sounds okay."

He smiled. And I smiled back. I asked if it would be alright if he just stayed with me for the night. He vehemently agreed to that and scanned the floor to find our shirts as I searched the TV for a good movie to fall asleep to.

My mom didn't question his presence at breakfast the next morning. My family had hardly commented on the affair at all, and I couldn't tell if it was because they weren't surprised, didn't mind, didn't want to hurt my feelings, or didn't know what to make of it anymore than I did. As much as I could have used the input, I was happy to be spared the awkward interviews.

My dad was still away on business, so we Skyped him in to bid me his bon voyage as Zig loaded up my belongings. "Is it weird knowing your whole life for the next year fits into that kid's car?" My dad laughed through the laptop.

I rolled my eyes and smiled. "Believe me, that's not the weirdest part about this."

I lost track of how many times my mom cried before we even pulled out of the driveway, and in turn, how much I cried with her. Zig jokingly bragged about being the only one to not get in on the waterworks. "It'll hit you once you have to leave me in California," I teased through tears.

"No, it'll definitely be sooner." My mom bet, wiping her eyes on her sweater sleeve. "My guess is somewhere in middle-America."

Before leaving town, we stopped at a convenience store to stock up on snacks for the road trip. As we roamed the aisles in search of trail mix and soda, I watched the well-wishes pour in on social media through my phone. "It's ironic," I mused as Zig piled various cans of Pringles into his arms. "Zoe Rivas ruined my life, like, three different times, and now she's writing on my Facebook wall that we just have to do lunch next time I'm in town."

"I'm not surprised," He laughed, handing me two tubs of cotton candy. "She did confess that major crush she always had on you at Moneybags's party."

"Oh, yeah," I winced, recalling the conversation. "That was something. She basically ran me through every mean thing she ever did to me and was like 'yeah, you were just so cute and I didn't know how to handle being into girls and I kind of took it out on you without realizing it. Sorry?' Granted, she'd had way too much to drink, and the sentiment was nice, I guess, but I had no idea what to say." I added on with a laugh.

"Eh," He shrugged, nabbing a whole display of lollipops, "She's always been kind of a drama queen, hasn't she?"

"I mean, you seemed to like her well enough for a while."

"Don't start roasting me now," He groaned, "We have a long drive ahead of us."

The shortest route from Toronto to San Diego would have taken about 40 hours driven straight through. However, we decided to make our trip more scenic (and subsequently, longer) by planning some sight-seeing along the way.

At the cusp of the states, we picked up two cartons of poutine from a street vendor and sat atop the hood of his car to watch Niagara falls from a distance. "You realize how cliche we are right now?" I laughed, wiping my hands on a balled-up napkin.

"All we need now is some maple syrup, eh?" He grinned my way, mouth full of fries. "And maybe a moose or two."

"If we had all day, I'd say we stay here until it gets dark out. The falls looks way cooler lit up."

I shook my head. "No, I'm way more excited to see Manhattan at night again."

Contrary to popular belief, most of New York is dry, rural nothingness. You find that when you drive through its upstate for hours on end seeing nothing but forests, fields, and the occasional lake or cow. It smelled of wet earth and fertilizer, which was kind of refreshing, but more than once we had to roll up the windows when passing roadkill skunks and chicken farms. The vast expanse of countryside veered us in and out of phone signal, so I pulled my CD bank out from the backseat and flipped through its plastic sleeves. "Did I make you listen to latest 1975 album yet?"

He laughed at me. "How do you go from Panic! At The Disco to The 1975?"

"I like a lot of music, okay! And they aren't even that different." I shoved his arm (not too hard, since he was steering), "At least I've been listening to more than that one As It Is album that came out last year."

"You're the one that got me into As It Is!"

"And now I'm trying to get you into The 1975!"

In a playful groan of faux defeat, he gestured towards the car stereo. "Fine. Indulge me in your indie Brit-pop fantasy men if you must."

"Oh, I must," I chuckled, pushing the disc into is cradle and adjusting the volume accordingly. "Stop acting like they're One Direction."

"They might as well be."

"You couldn't be more wrong."

And of course, he ended up enjoying it. He always enjoys my recommendations. I tried not to sing along with everything so that he could hear the music, itself, but it's practically an instinct of mine. I just hoped he didn't mind.

Closer to Long Island, our service returned, and my phone flooded with missed messages. "Grace and Jonah snapped me a video together wishing us a safe trip," I announced.

Zig clicked his tongue. "What a couple."

"I know," I sneered. "Almost makes you forget that she kissed you last year."

"Oh, god, don't remind me," He made a face. "I'd have thought she'd want you before me."

"Dude, she literally told me to stay away from you when we were all in the rubber room."

"See?" He laughed. "That's like some diabolical scheme to keep you all to herself."

"I mean, this was back when you 'hated' me—"

"—Okay, we both know that I never really 'hated'you—"

"—But you acted like it, and she was all, trust me, you don't want that Zig as your friend."

"And then suddenly she wanted me!" He shook his head incredulously. "Out of fucking nowhere!"

"You thought it came out of nowhere?" I scoffed, "She went off on me at the white party for 'existing'."

His eyebrows raised and he spared me a glance. "Did she really?"

I nodded. "After you rejected her, apparently. She was on about my perfect hair and perfect eyes and perfect body that guys go gaga over. Which is messed up when you think about it because she was mad at me because my ex boyfriend didn't want her…and then I was just supposed to act okay with all of that because she went on to tell me about her CF." I wet my lips. "…Which, I mean, I did, but that's beside the point."

"Yikes." He grimaced, looking back at the road. "That's a lot."

"Yeah." I sighed. "Wasn't one of our finer moments."

"…Can't say I disagree with all that 'perfect' stuff, though."

I rolled my eyes, but was blushing. "You're an idiot."

He flashed me a winning smile.

A brilliant balayage of orange and pink backdropped the city skyline by the time we crossed over the Brooklyn Bridge. I practically squealed when I saw the small, seafoam silhouette of the Statue of Liberty standing on the horizon, but she blurred in every photo I tried to take. We parked on a well-lit street near Penn Station and wandered around Times Square, mesmerized by the colorful cascade of flashing lights. "I almost forgot how magical this place is," I wandered the streets in wonder. I bought a few cheap mixtapes from street performers we came across. Zig paid to get a caricature of us drawn together. We stopped for pizza and pretzels and hot dogs and cheesecake and sat by the fountain in Central Park. Once we realized how late it had gotten, we splurged for a 3-star motel room because anything higher was out of our price range (anything lower either had no vacancies or shady reviews on Yelp). He turned to me when the clerk at the front desk asked how many beds we had wanted, then he grinned like a fiend when I quietly said "only one".

We didn't leave long after sunrise, but we did buy a bag full of NYC bagels for the road, just to see what the fuss was about. (Note: it's because NYC bagels truly are just that good.)

Heading west, we made Chicago our next goal. I set my entire iPod on shuffle and went in and out of sleep throughout the day. Zig jeered that we kept trying to play the alphabet game through the drive, but each time I'd nod off somewhere between D and G.

By the time we made it to Illinois, it was already 7 PM, and we both weren't up for as much tourism as we had been the night before. But we did make sure to take mirror selfies in the famous Bean sculpture and pick up some deep-dish pizza as we walked through the dusk of the city.

"This is more like a pie than a pizza," He noted, mouth full of molten mozzarella. "Like a pie of cheese and tomato sauce. You can't not eat it with a fork. That's not pizza, if you ask me. And the sauce is on top, what is that?"

I laughed through a bite of the buttery crust. "You've just been spoiled by New York now."

"You're probably right." He hummed in agreement, but crammed more of it into his mouth.

We got a room for the night from Airbnb to try and save a few bucks. The place was small and the host family still occupied it so we kept our clothes on and made as little noise as possible. We were back in the car by dawn.

Zig insisted on driving straight through the midwest as he had no interest in really exploring it; we made a few pit stops for restrooms and tourist traps but mostly kept trekking along. Between car games, playlists, binging junk food, and barren landscapes, the hours dragged into one another. I took lots of pictures and videos out of boredom and replied to people's messages whenever my 4g kicked in. Somewhere in the evening, I fell into a nap out of boredom.

By the time I woke up, it was pitch black outside, which was disorienting to say the least.

Stewing in the low volume of the pop punk playlist Zig apparently put on while I was sleeping, I took a moment to synchronize with my surroundings and cranked my seat back upright. Then, I turned to look at him.

The sunken bags under his eyes were exaggerated by the blue-green glow of his dashboard lights. His posture slacked beneath his half-zipped leather jacket and his whole head looked ready to slump into the steering wheel. It was shocking to know that he was somehow conscious in this state.

"You look exhausted," I wrapped myself up in the knitted sunflower afghan I'd purchased from a gas station in Kansas. "You want me to take over for a while?"

He laughed a soft, sleepy laugh. "You don't even have your license yet."

"I know how to drive." I stretched, "You basically taught me over the summer, remember?"

"Yeah, in parking lots and side streets," He made a face. "Not…major highways, for hours."

"It's the middle of nowhere. How bad can it be?"

I watched him dual himself with contemplation. "…It's dark out."

"So?" I chuckled. "No one's even around." I watched him chew the inside of his cheek in thought and nudged him in the ribs with my elbow. "C'mon. This way you can get some sleep and we won't have to stop anywhere."

He thought it over a bit more. Eventually, he nodded. "Yeah. Okay." He turned on his hazards and pulled over to the far side of the road. "You can't tell your mom I let you do this, though. She'd have my head."

"Don't worry. She'd have mine, too," I laughed as I unbuckled my seatbelt, opening the car door to step out.

We rounded the front of the car to switch sides. As I adjusted the driver's seat and the mirrors accordingly, he settled into passenger, cocooning himself with the ornate floral blanket and refusing to lay back so he could watch me. "Drive as safe and inconspicuously as possible, okay? You don't want to draw attention to yourself." He insisted as he fought his heavy eyelids from drooping shut.

I assumed the position of a model driver: posture straight, eyes on the road, hands at 10 and 2. "Of course, of course."

"Stay at the speed limit. A little bit under it, even." He yawned as I carefully merged back onto the road. "And if you need anything, wake me up."

"Uh-huh." I chuckled, flipping through his phone to for an acoustic album to soften up the stereo.

His lashes fluttered and his head lolled onto his shoulder as subtle guitar strums and gentle falsettos began to breathe through the speakers. "Mhmm…" With that, he drifted off easily.

I waited until he was snoring to drive a bit faster.

What he didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

We were heading out of Utah by the time that he woke up.

The GPS led us into Las Vegas en route, so we decided to stop there to stretch our legs. Being that it was morning and neither of us were 21, we knew that our options were limited, but even in the daylight it was a breathtaking city and we figured we could at least do some sight-seeing. We took pictures by the Luxor and the Las Vegas sign as well as with three different Elvis impersonators, grabbed two cold brews with double shots of espresso, and sat to watch the Bellagio Fountains as they churned out their first show of the day. After a while, we realized we were hungry for actual food.

"It's like my stomach finally noticed that I've eaten nothing but gummy worms and hot Cheetos for the past 24 hours," I whined as we wandered, looking for a cheap place with an open sign.

"Mine's still mad that I had beef jerky and two Red Bulls and called it a dinner last night," He laughed, pointing out a breakfast buffet.

The interior informed us that, at peak hours, this place could hold upwards of 200 people. But at that hour, it looked desolate; save for a few guests seemingly from local hotels and stragglers sobering up from wild nights before, there was hardly anyone there. In fact, I counted more staff than customers. We were seated almost immediately at a small table in the back that overlooked an unlit casino.

As we draped our coats and bags off the backs of our chairs, our server offered to start off us with drinks, listing things like coffee and juices and sodas but then nonchalantly segueing into cocktails. Zig and I looked at each other, both confused and curious, before he dared to nod at her mention of bottomless mimosas. "Yeah, that sounds good."

"Alrighty!" She smiled, scrawling on her notepad.

With bated breath, we waited for her to ask for IDs.

But instead she just flashed us a cordial smile and reiterated the all-you-can-eat routine. "And I'll be right back with your drinks." With that, she turned on her heel to leave.

Once she disappeared through the kitchen doors, we looked at each other with disbelief. "Is she not gonna card us?" Zig whispered, a devious glint in his eye.

I grinned. "Doesn't look like it."

He grinned back. "Nice."

We piled our plates high with pancakes, waffles, French toast, bacon, hash browns, home fries, various forms of eggs…the self-serve bars had rows upon rows of heated metal trays and plastic bins over ice, limitless with brunch-driven cravings. And with each round of dishes we emptied, our glasses were refilled.

"I'm so full already but the dessert table look so good," I moaned through a mouthful of freshly-cut fruit.

"Oh, I'm definitely getting dessert," Zig popped a few sausage links into his mouth. "I keep thinking I'm full but then the mimosa makes me burp and I have room to eat again."

"Ew, you're so gross," I was laughing regardless, crumpling up the nearest napkin so I could throw it at him.

We gorged ourselves on cakes and cobblers and pies and tarts and all different kinds of macaron ice cream sandwiches. The two of us were shoving cinnamon buns in our mouth when the waitress approached with our second pitcher of mimosa and just opted to leave it on the table. By the time we were stuffed to satisfaction, we'd nearly drained the whole thing.

"That means both of us had almost an entire pitcher each," Zig calculated as we waddled down the Vegas strip, reluctantly walking off our post-buffet bloating.

"That's crazyyyy," I scrunched up my face in thought. "I don't even feel that drunk."

"Oh please. You're a lightweight!" He poked at me. "You never think you're drunk and you always are."

"I am not!" I bumped my hip into his.

He merely lost his balance, but when he returned the gesture, I nearly off of the sidewalk. He threw an arm around my shoulder to help my balance, though his was hardly any better.

Clearly, neither of us were in a state to drive, so we decided to wander until we sobered up.

We eventually found ourselves outside the Venetian, a hotel whose architecture was vast and striking as the rest of Las Vegas but mostly caught our drunken attention with its winding channel of crystal blue water and the promise of gondola rides. "I didn't even know there were gondolas outside of, what, Italy?" Zig was immediately enchanted, reaching for my hand but grabbing my wrist as he galloped to get a closer view.

I stumbled to follow with his long-legged strides and laughed at his eager demeanor. "Zig, you probably have to be staying there to get—"

"No, you don't have to—it says so on the sign!" His fingers found mine and his brows bridged together with an almost childlike wonder. "Maya we have to do it, come on."

"You're ridiculous!"

"Come onnn. We can just relax, take in the view…Hell, it's even kind of romantic, don't you think?" I could tell his smirk was meant to be sultry but his eyes were glossy and he looked so goofy but I can't say it didn't work.

Besides, it didn't take much to convince me. What's there not to be charmed by in a gondola ride?

Zig insisted on paying each of our $29 tickets. The tour was meant to seat four guests, but at just past noon with no one else on line, the gondolier set sail for just the two of us.

With champagne bubbles where my brain usually lies, I didn't think much of curling into Zig's side, smiling warmly when he wrapped his arm around me. We listened to the lap of tranquil water against the wooden rowing paddle as we rolled through the canal, passing by cafes and restaurants and under bridges and balconies, all of which slowly were filling with people as we waded by. Our guide was a tall and animated man who seemed like he'd have more pep in his step if he'd had another coffee before his shift started, but with mimosa in veins and Zig purring in my ear, I had no reason to be bothered by it.

"We should just stay here," The boy's warm breath tickled my hairline. "Get a room, forget moving you to California."

"You're dumb," I giggled, pushing him away in that way that managed to only lean me in closer to him.

"I'm just saying, since we're in Vegas and all," He slid his arm down my waist, lips perched just above my earlobe, "That nothing would stop us if we just wanted to, say, get hitched and live in a crappy motel around here."

"Actually, I don't turn eighteen until December, so we really can't." Somewhere around there I stared tuning out the tour guide as Zig's teeth grazed the vertex of my jawline.

I could feel it when he exhaled a laugh. "Then we'll just have to come back then."

"—You talk too much." I turned to face him, fully intending to follow with some witty remark about not being able to hear the gondolier's crooning, but found my eyes at the level of his lips and forgot my agenda entirely.

His gaze fell as well and he wet his own lips. Even his rebuttal felt distracted. "…Shut me up then."

My breathing quietly hitched in my chest and the hairs at the back of my neck prickled. He leaned in enough to test the waters but paused with an inch between us, rolling the ball into my court.

Closing my eyes, I met him in a tender kiss.

One of his arms laid tucked around my middle as our lips moved in unchoreographed manner, delicate and dulcet and practically chaste but still dormant with a shared, silent lust; his other hand found mine so he could lace our fingers together and hold them in my lap, lightly squeezing them whenever my tongue pushed against his or my teeth brushed along his bottom lip (basically any time things started getting too heated and he needed to calm himself down). I could only guess the gondolier took notice as his singing grew quiet among the white noise of the city and all I could hear besides the ringing in my ears and the slosh of the waves as we floated along them was the breath of the boy who was holding my own by his mouth.

We ended the ride more lightheaded than we were when we started, I think.

"I could probably drive now," Zig announced as we padded down the busying sidewalk, knuckles still braided with mine.

"Yeah? You think you're up for that?" I looked up to him, free hand casually laid on his stomach.

When he glanced down at me, his posture insisted 'yes', but his eyes begged '20 more minutes of making out in the backseat of my car first'.

You can guess which one we went with.

Between driving through the night and the residual alcohol still in my system, it didn't take long for me to fall asleep once we did get back on the road. I was thankful to find that we'd made it over the Californian border by the time I arose from my nap.

We made sure to hit some real famous hot spots—The Golden Gate and Bay bridges, the Hollywood sign, the Walk Of Fame, the Boulevard—before deciding we were both kind of maxed out on tourism and should get some good rest in before move-in day. Secretly, I figured that actually reaching the destination made us realize that our long-awaited road trip was now over, and that we'd have to return to the real world tomorrow. So we wanted one last night to ourselves.

"I mean, it's not like California's going anywhere," Zig mentioned as we filed back into the car.

"Yeah exactly," I nodded in agreement, one hand tucked in the pocket of my shorts while the other cupped his exposed shoulder. "Plus, you said you're gonna visit, right?"

It took him a moment to process the question, but I could see a soft twinkle in his eye when he smiled over at me. "Right."

With the radio loud so we didn't have to talk and our arms linked on the center console, we took our time driving down to San Diego.

I don't think we'd really recovered from brunch but Zig had been on about trying In-N-Out since talk of the West Coast began, so of course he started itching to order once the sun went down and the neon signs lit up. On line at the drive-thru, it occured to me that we hadn't figured out where to sleep for the night, and neither of us seemed thrilled at the idea of spending anymore money on lodging. "Do you think your dorm room's open yet?" He asked as he looked over the menu.

I shook my head. "Not until tomorrow. You can get room keys as early as 8 AM."

"Hmm." He drummed his fingers on the ledge of his open window. "I mean, we could stay in the parking lot."

My eyebrows rose. "You think we can do that?"

"Why not? I've got your parking pass somewhere in there," He tipped his chin towards the glove compartment. "Besides, it's a college campus. There's security and shit. It's not like we'd be sleeping in a truck stop."

I shrugged one shoulder. "Point."

We ordered more than we were probably hungry for. I folded my legs up onto my seat so I could keep the white paper bags huddled up in the footwell, and Zig turned on the heat so that they wouldn't get cold in the twenty-some minutes it took us to get to SoCal Art. Unsurprisingly, the lot was empty, but there weren't any sort of tolls or gates or guards to stop us from driving onto the campus. We rounded the building that would tomorrow be my home and parked as close to the entrance as we could. "You'll thank me for that tomorrow," Zig laughed as he slid the permit into the corner of the dashboard so it would be visible through the windshield.

With two double cheeseburgers, chocolate milkshakes, and a vat of animal-style fries spread between us, we perched ourselves on the hood of his car in a nest of bags and napkins. There weren't any signs of other humans around, but we kept pretty quiet anyway, making light conversation about the food and trip the breeze and the moon and the stars. We ate well past when we'd gotten full because we didn't want it to go to waste—especially Zig, who didn't know when his next In-N-Out meal would be.

"I don't think I can move," I groaned in discomfort, laying all the way back and resting my hands atop my bloated belly.

"You don't have to if you don't want," He chuckled, gathering our garbage and tossing it in a nearby trash can. "It's nice out, we could just lay out here for a while."

He got the sunflower blanket from the passenger seat and climbed back onto the car next to me, spreading it over the two of us. He envelope me in his muscular arms and I nestled into his side. The illumination of Southern California was eclipsed by the tall school buildings around us so we had a good look at the heavens, which were still pretty dull from light pollution and smog but majestic nonetheless. We tried to find constellations before realizing we didn't know much past the Big Dipper, so we started making up some of our own.

"That one kind of looks like a dog." I traced in the air to my left. "Those two make a head and that's the body and tail."

"Kind of a three-legged dog." He ran his fingers through my hair.

I scrunched up my nose. "Gives him character."

He smiled, gesturing towards the horizon. "I think that cluster looks like a heart."

"I think you're just a sap."

He laughed to himself. "So be it."

I could tell he fell asleep with he stopped playing footsies with me under the heavy afghan; his breathing was deeper but contentedly so, and his lips were pressed against my head, and when I laid my head against his broad chest I could hear his tepid heartbeat. I knew we had planned to eventually get back in the car, but he was just so peaceful and I was just so comfortable. So I curled up into him, kissed his cheek, and drifted off with him to sleep.

sorry a second chapter took so long to get here! i've had a few things going on in my life but i'm happy to get this story back on track. thank you to everyone who has enjoyed it so far and who has sent me such thoughtful responses to it! it really does keep me coming back to write more. (:

-kina