Nosilla: Aha! I say that all the time!
Pancakes: Yay!
Unknown-Dreams: Yay! I love singing in the middle of the street at 12 AM, when it's snowing!
Slightly: How would you know? You've never done it!
Shut. Up.
As I was driving Spot's car back to my house, I began to wonder what the heck I was doing. Oh yeah, that's right. I was taking a spontaneous roadtrip with a guy I barely know to New York. The night would prove to be interesting.
At my house, I hurriedly packed my favorite clothes, my toothbrush, my shampoo, etc. and then sat in front of the computer. "Hold these," I instructed, handing Spot several ziplock baggies full of CDs. He obliged, and I pulled up the internet. Quickly typing in MapQuest's URL, I searched for directions to New York. It came up, and I clicked 'print.'
Next stop was Starbucks. I was surprising myself with how organized I was being. I ordered two very large cups of coffee and poured them into the furnaces Spot provided. And then we began driving.
I drove first, since there was no way I was going to sleep for a while. Every now and then taking a sip of coffee, I began to reminisce about my relationship with Luke. He's been a good boyfriend, the type that you only hear about it stories. He'd brought me flowers and chocolate, and he's make CDs of cheesy love songs for me. (I left those at home to rot.)
Luke had been good-looking, the type of guy my younger sister would've classified as "dreamy." Well, actually, she did classify him as "dreamy" when he and I spent Thanksgiving at my parents' house. He's charmed my family within minutes.
But then Luke's work hours changed, and I got to see him less and less. He'd go in in the afternoon, work all night, and sleep in the mornings. It was draining, but he worked tirelessly on. I used to visit him at work, but the manager got ticked off at me; he said I was "distracting" Luke.
That was probably about the time Luke started cheating.
This thought make my stomach lurch unpleasantly, and I glanced over at Spot, wondering if he'd noticed my sudden change of expression. I tend to wear my heart on my sleeve.
But Spot was sound asleep, snuggled into my sweatshirt, which I'd let him wear rather than the noisy ski jacket he'd had on earlier. He looked boyish and innocent, and I couldn't help smiling. I couldn't wait until we got to New York; he obviously missed his friends a lot.
I continued driving, putting on soft Broadway music. This didn't seem to disturb Spot in the least, so I kept listening. When my coffee ran out, I pulled into a gas station, yawning. I grabbed Spot's ski jacket, pulled it on, and hopped out of the car.
I pumped gas into the car, which definitely lightened my wallet. I don't normally have to pump a car as big as Spot's. I was used to the very small Volkswagon Bug I have. I hurried inside, eager to get out of the cold, got some coffee, and paid for my gas.
When I returned to the car, Spot was sitting in the driver's seat, waiting for me. "Coffee still warm?" I asked, motioning to his thermos. He nodded. I shut the door and we took off. Eager to take advantage of this time where I could sleep, I set aside my coffee and put my seat back, propping my feet on the dashboard. In an instant, I was asleep.