Piper volunteered to do all the grocery shopping for our trip, and when she arrives at my house on Thanksgiving morning, you'd swear we were going away for a month.
As I shove my duffel bag into my car, she arrives in an Uber.
I squint against the sun and watch her fumble with two bags. "Need some help?"
"Yes, please."
I grab three grocery sacks from the trunk. "What is all this?"
"Food, supplies, stuff we'll need." She sniffs. "Don't worry about what's inside," she instructs as I peek in one of them and see sweet potatoes and corn syrup. "Just take them to your car. Oh, and please tell me you have an ice chest."
Twenty minutes and a whole lot of eye rolling later, we're finally on the road.
"I've never ridden in your car." Piper glances at the interior. "I've always wanted a Range Rover."
"I bought it from Brent after he and his wife had their third kid."
"Brent can afford this kind of car on a teacher's salary?" she asks.
"His wife is a surgeon," I reply. "And I think he bought it used."
"Ah. Makes sense."
"I don't think we've wished each other happy Thanksgiving," I say as we make our way onto the interstate.
"Happy Thanksgiving." She leans over and kisses my cheek. "Are you excited?"
"I am." I grin. "You?"
"Very."
I eye her up and down as much as possible from the interior of my car. "You look very autumnal."
She has on jeans and a gold sweater with a brown leather jacket and a maroon beanie.
"Thanks." She eyes me. "You look hot."
I blush. "I'm not wearing anything new."
"Looking hot is your natural state of being." She shrugs, pulling my free hand into her lap. "I printed out a couple different routes we might take, but I'm leaning towards the one that dips into the valley." She pulls a few papers from her purse. "Apparently, it's been unseasonably warm and the trees in the valley are still ripe with fall colors."
"Sounds nice."
She takes out a pamphlet. "I also picked up this leaf peeping guide."
"Leaf peeping? What are we, an 80-year-old couple?" I chuckle. "What else do you have in there?"
She releases my hand and sets her purse on her lap, taking out various papers and a book. "A guide for things to do in Lake George; a list of quality restaurants; and a brochure for the Fort William Henry Museum—a must see for the history buff in me."
"Wouldn't it have been more convenient, not to mention more environmentally friendly, to use your phone for all this information?"
"Probably, but it's easier to access it this way." Piper shrugs. "And I promise to recycle or donate every one of these things when I'm done."
I'm tickled by her antics. I've never met someone quite like Piper Chapman, and I don't think there's a soul on the planet even close to who she is. She's persistent, detail-oriented and too fucking adorable for words. The best part is, Piper is who she is—she doesn't put on airs or try to be someone different. She has a self-awareness that most middle-aged people don't have much less 21-year-olds.
"Seems like the only thing you don't have is a mix tape," I joke.
"Oh, but I do!" She yanks a cord out of her purse, plugging one end into her iPod. "I didn't know if your car would have an audio jack."
"It's old, but not ancient."
She plugs the other end into the dashboard. "I even included some old people music on here just for you."
"Old people music?"
She nods. "You know: the Bee Gees, Steely Dan, Abba."
"Those are bands from the 70s!" I laugh. "I was born in the early 80s."
"Ah." Judging by the look on her face, she's messing with me. "Then how about The Cure, Depeche Mode, and Bruce Springsteen?"
"The Jersey girl in me loves some Springsteen." I smile from ear to ear. "What else do you have?"
She lists a few more 80s bands and a slew of pop artists I've never heard of.
This trip will be good for us on so many levels, not to mention discovering each other's idiosyncrasies along the way. The thing I'm most curious about is if our age difference will play a role in how we get along. It hasn't yet, but the most time we've spent together is two days in a row, and when we did that, 90% of the time we were either fucking or sleeping.
The drive through the valley was worth the extra 45 minutes. The trees are alive with colorful leaves, some of which are so bright they make my eyes hurt. With the windows rolled down, music playing and the smell of damp leaves in the air, there's a feeling of exhilaration that courses over me. It doesn't hurt that a beautiful woman is beside me. Piper alternates between admiring the foliage to reading excerpts from the leaf peeping guide, and I'm fascinated by her thirst for knowledge. It's not just Autumnal trees—she's fascinated by everything she sees from obscure road signs to old diners along the drive. She has a youthful exuberance that I've never witnessed or experienced myself. It might sound cliché especially given the season, but Piper is a breath of fresh air.
We stop for lunch at one of the roadside diners, and Piper reads highlights from her Lake George guidebook aloud.
She munches on one of my fries instead of feasting on the side salad she simply had to order. "Did you know that Lake George contains approximately 186 islands, 154 of which are state-owned with about 50 available for camping and some 30 plus that are privately owned?"
"I did not know that." I take the final bite of my Club sandwich.
"And that 'Diamond Island,' located three miles north of Lake George Village, was named for the quartz crystals which were found there and mistaken for diamonds?"
"I'm going to stop you right there, babe." I cover her hand. "I can assure you, whatever you ask me about Lake George, I will not know, so posing these questions will get you nowhere."
"Oh." She looks offended.
"I'm not saying you shouldn't tell me more, just don't make it a question."
She sips her root beer. "Sorry, that's the teacher in me."
"Because you've been a teacher for so long," I comment through a grin.
She gives me a look. "Fine. Let's talk about things we want to do while we're there."
Piper lists the top ten things to do in Lake George, most of which are summertime activities, but she's undeterred. She mentions the red trolley, a museum or two and a dinner cruise on a paddlewheel boat.
"I know one thing I'd like to do that doesn't involve any top ten attraction." I wiggle my eyebrows.
"Well, that's a given." She stands, kissing me on the cheek. "I want to take a few pictures of the foliage outside. I'll meet you at the car."
On the last little jaunt to our cabin, Piper convinces me to pull over on a dirt road to have sex. (Not that I needed much convincing, but I did protest just so I could observe her pouty face.) Once I'm pretty sure no one is going to drive by, we get out and Piper takes a picnic blanket with her.
"We might want to be quick seeing as how exposed we are," I say, walking further into the woods.
She stops. "How about here? Under this canopy of red and gold."
I look up at the colorful leaves and can see the bright blue sky peeking between branches. "Wow, look at that."
She lays down the blanket.
I get turned on just thinking about having sex with her in the outdoors.
She unbuttons her jeans while I undo my corduroys, and we stand on the blanket and kiss. Piper slowly lowers us to the ground, and before long, we're rolling right off the blanket in a passionate makeout session.
The thrill of possibly getting caught coupled with Piper's pussy in my face is enough to make me cum in record time. Since we're in the 69 position, her orgasm hits just after mine begins, and neither of us attempts to remain quiet.
"That was hot," she pants, moving so that we're face to face.
I hold her close. "Sex with you is always hot."
"Agreed." I hear her chuckle. "And look, we didn't get caught except by that squirrel."
"Fuck!" I immediately jump to my feet. "I'm not a fan of squirrels."
She laughs. "Why not? They're so cute."
"They carry rabies." I make a beeline out of the woods and call over my shoulder, "I'll be in the car when you're done making friends with the wildlife."
We drive another 30 minutes to the cabin, and Piper is like a school girl when she sees the location near the lake and steps inside.
I run my hand over the back of the 1970s plaid sofa. "It's old and a little tattered, but it'll do."
She moves further into the living room. "The fireplace is even bigger than I thought. And there's tons of wood."
"That's good since we're expecting a major cold front to roll through tonight." Piper read me the weather forecast, and if it holds up, the region expects up to a foot of snow overnight into tomorrow.
We unload the car, putting away the groceries and unpacking our bags. Piper finds a place to plug in her iPod and turns on the third playlist she made for the trip titled Lake Life. I enjoy her taste in music, and even though I haven't heard of half the bands she's included, I've liked every song, particularly the one playing now, From Gold, by Novo Amor.
After sitting on the deck, holding hands and admiring the view for half an hour, Piper turns to me. "Are you ready to cook our Thanksgiving feast?"
"Shouldn't we have put the turkey in like five hours ago?"
"We weren't here five hours ago." She stands, offering me her hand. "And I bought a turkey breast that takes like two hours to bake."
I follow her inside. "What else is on the menu?"
"I figured we should only attempt simple recipes," she begins, removing items from the refrigerator. "So we'll have cranberry sauce, green beans, and broccoli-cheese rice. The most complicated dish will be the sweet potato casserole."
"Yum." I pull the sweet potatoes and onions from a bag. "What about gravy for the turkey?"
She holds up a packet. "We just mix this with water, and voila!"
We chop all the ingredients, stealing kisses and even little dances along the way, and it reminds me of our first date when I made Beef Bourguignon, only this time, Piper and I are a couple and I have much higher hopes that this meal will turn out better than the first. It's hard to describe how I feel when I'm around her other than to say I'm overjoyed. She makes me feel young again—like I get a total redo of my relatively shitty 20s.
Turns out, making even a simple Thanksgiving spread is a lot of work—I blame much of it on the amount of peeling and chopping I'm doing. By seven o'clock, we're both exhausted and starving, and the food is finally ready.
"This is amazing," I say with my mouth full. "These sweet potatoes are like crack."
"Mmm," Piper offers. "They are good. The turkey is a little salty, but it's edible."
I stab a piece of meat. "Try it with a dab of cranberry sauce—it takes the saltiness away."
"Oh, yeah. Much better."
After we shovel food into our mouths for five minutes, Piper makes a sound. "We forgot to toast!" She raises her glass and waits for me to do the same. "I offer thanks to you for giving us a chance. I know we defy conventional coupledom," she pauses as I giggle at her choice of words. "But I think this could be good."
I tap my glass against hers. "I think you're right."
After eating almost everything on my plate, I say, "This is my first real Thanksgiving."
She passes me the green beans. "What do you mean?"
"I didn't have a traditional meal on most holidays," I reply. "My mom worked in restaurants similar to the one where we had lunch today. She got paid double time to work on holidays, so when I was young, I'd usually hang out in a back corner of the restaurant and read. When I was old enough to stay at home alone, my mom would get in way past dinnertime, but she'd bring me leftovers."
Piper frowns. "That sounds awful."
"It was all I knew." I shrug. "The turkey was always cold and dry; the mashed potatoes were from a box and you could walk across the skin of the gravy. It did not taste like this."
She takes my hand. "I'm sorry you've never had a proper Thanksgiving."
"I'm having one now." I issue a grateful smile.
"Good." She squeezes my hand, and then releases it. "Tell me more about your mom."
"She was the best." I scoop another round of green beans and sweet potato casserole onto my plate. "She worked a lot, which taught me the value of tenacity, but when she was off, we'd hang out a lot. She believed in tough love, but she was always fair. When I told her I liked girls, she took me in her arms, kissed me and said, I think that's great, kid." I unexpectedly choke up. "Wow, sorry." I dab my eyes. "I haven't talked about her in a long time."
"It's ok." Piper smiles softly at me. "I like hearing about her."
"One thing she made sure of was that I stayed in school," I continue. "She didn't want me to live a life like hers where she worked 10-12 hours, six days a week making minimum wage."
"Did she see you graduate from college?"
I nod. "She was still alive when I got my Master's, too." I set my fork down. "I think she was proud of me."
"I know she was." Piper grabs my hand again, caressing it with her thumb. "I'm sure she's looking down on you now, beaming with pride for who you've become."
"I hope so." I wipe my eyes again. "I am not a crier. This totally took me by surprise."
She raises her glass. "A toast to Diane. May she always live on in your heart."
"Cheers." I take a long swig of Beaujolais nouveau, so very thankful for the woman next to me.
I change the topic to the weather, which seems to be shifting rapidly. We clean the dishes, turn the music louder and put the pumpkin pie in the oven.
"I'll build a fire." Piper starts stacking logs in the fireplace.
"Need some help?"
"No, thanks. Sit down and kick your feet up."
I plop on the sofa, letting my head fall back and my eyes close. "If you say so." Damn, I'm tired. It didn't help to let out such raw emotions at dinner, so now I'm physically and emotionally beat.
"Would you mind if I played some instrumental music?"
"Sure."
With my eyes still closed, I focus on the calming music and the smell of the cabin—it's a little musty, but the scent of sweet potatoes, roasted turkey and pumpkin pie permeate the air. And then Piper sits next to me and smells like home. It's a combination of baby powder, red wine and a little bit of crushed leaves.
I open my eyes, keeping my head on the back of the sofa, and turn to her. "How is this so easy?"
She shakes her head, eyes glistening. "I don't know." And then leans in for a kiss. "But I'm glad it is."
"Maybe we can just stay here forever."
She tucks herself against my body. "If we can't, let's make every moment count."
I nod against the top of her head. "Let's."
I wake up in a foreign bed next to Piper and smile at her sleeping form. It takes me a moment to realize where I am, and I'm glad we're miles and miles away from home. The morning sun is trying to peak out from behind a layer of clouds, but it isn't quite ready to show its face yet. We left the blinds mostly open before climbing into bed last night, and when I get a good look outside, I notice snow on the deck.
I kiss Piper's shoulder before quietly sneaking out of bed to see how much snow has accumulated. As I approach the sliding glass door, I see it's still coming down lightly and there's about two inches already on the ground. There's a significant draft by the door, so I back away and snag one of the terrycloth robes from the closet. I decide to let Piper sleep in, and I'll make coffee and enjoy the stillness of the morning. It's rare that I allow myself to enjoy mornings like this. When I'm at home, there's always something to do whether that's cleaning the house, responding to e-mails, or going to the grocery store, so to just exist and savor the quietness of the morning is a real treat.
The coffee the owners left for us in a welcome basket is phenomenal—it's rich, smooth and a little nutty. Usually, I take almond milk and a touch of sugar in my coffee, but this is too good to ruin it with that stuff. With the hot cup in my hands, I gaze into the distance and can barely see the lake through the fog of snow. It's a beautiful scene like one might find on a Christmas card or in a holiday calendar.
I turn on Piper's iPod to listen to some calming music, and the gentle sound of Yiruma's piano wafts through the air. I keep the volume low so as not to wake her.
Last night was the first night we've spent together without having sex. I smile as I recollect our dinner together and our conversation about my mom. Even after dinner when we relaxed in front of the fireplace, sex was the furthest thing from my mind. That's a real breakthrough for me—the first few months of just seeing Piper made me want to fuck her. The more I got to know her, the more I wanted her sexually, and when we ultimately got together, it was the first thing I thought about.
It's not that I'm 'over' having sex with her—hell no! I just think we hit a point yesterday where getting to know each other and sharing our emotions surpassed our desire to make love. Of course, now that I'm thinking about not having sex with her, all I want to do is have sex with her. I don't think Piper would mind if I woke her up with my head between her legs, so I do just that.
She breathes heavily after what I assume was an unexpected orgasm. "What was that for?"
I crawl up her body, kissing every bit of exposed skin. "Making up for not having sex last night."
"Huh. I guess we didn't." She rotates on her side, facing me. "That's interesting."
"What's interesting about it?" I prod.
"It's the first night we've been together and haven't had sex."
I try to hide my grin, considering I was just thinking about the same thing. "True."
"I'm not complaining," she offers, brushing a strand of hair over my shoulder. "I'm glad, actually."
I chuckle. "You're glad?"
She nods. "We've crossed a threshold where sex isn't the most important part of our relationship."
"You're right." I rub her arm. "I was drinking coffee before you woke up, thinking about that." I pause to kiss her innocently on the lips. "Yesterday was the first time we discussed something super personal. I don't talk about my mom much. In fact, I don't remember the last time I told anyone details about my younger years."
Her eyes search my face like she's looking at a map. "I'm happy you told me."
I give her a grateful smile. "Me, too."
"I would've liked getting to know your mom."
I smile, feeling tears prickle my eyes. "She would've loved you."
We lie in bed, wrapped in each other for almost an hour, basking in the glow of this fresh, surprisingly mature relationship.
"I'm dying for some coffee." Piper finally sits up. "Did you make a full pot?"
"I did and it's delicious." I get out of bed ready to start the day with my girlfriend.
It should come as no surprise that Piper wants to hit every major attraction in Lake George. First, we go to the Fort William Henry Museum, then we freeze our asses off exploring Fort Ticonderoga. Piper is like a kid in a candy store at both historical attractions. I enjoy myself, too, but I like watching her exuberance even more than touring the sites themselves. Despite having a ton of leftovers, we opt for an order of fish & chips at The Docksider, and Piper encourages me to choose our next adventure.
"I'd love to explore the village."
"Perfect."
We hold hands, walking from store to store, and I'm on top of the world. Despite a few ugly stares, most people pay us no attention. I don't care what people think about us, as long as they're not affiliated with Mounthaven.
A gold thumb ring in the window display of the town jewelry store catches Piper's eye, but she's quickly deterred by the free samples of fudge a man is handing out next door at Sweet Tooth. She insists upon buying a block of peanut butter fudge while I peruse the jewelry shop, and then we spend some time in Adirondack Gifts & Books. I purchase a Christmas tree ornament, commemorating our trip and hoping it'll be the first of many future ornaments I buy with her. She buys a vintage Lake George sweatshirt that wreaks of 1976—that's part of its charm, she says.
It's part of your charm, I think.
Author's Note: Thank you again for the reviews. This story is likely going to be 14 chapters, so four left after this one. I don't think I'll be able to post another chapter until Monday evening at the earliest. Have a great weekend!
