Reece pulls out his wallet, throws a couple bills down, and scoots out of the booth, heading toward the front door.
“We can split it,” I say, grabbing my purse and his jacket, and chasing after him.
He doesn’t bother to respond, and I nearly slam into his back as I follow him into the storm.
I see immediately why he’s come to a halt, understand exactly why he’s swearing under his breath.
The parking lot is a swimming pool. “Holy crap,” I yell over the whining wind, lifting my hands to shield my eyes so I can look toward Horny. The water’s more than halfway up the tires. “What happened?”
“Guess they weren’t dicking around with the flash flood warning,” he replies.
I glance up at him. “What now? We can’t drive in this. And Darla said the freeway was flooded too.”
Reece scans the parking lot before pointing to our right.
It takes me a second to realize what I’m looking at. Dim neon lights read Motel, except with the t burned out. Even through the fierce rainstorm I can tell that the motel hasn’t seen a single upgrade since the Reagan administration.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Reece grins at me, looking deliciously boyish, and yet the way the shirt’s plastered to his torso all over again is solidly man. “Yup. We’re staying at Moel.”
With that, he grabs my hand, pulling me toward the car so we can get our stuff, and I squeal in horror as I follow him through water coming all the way over my ankles. Apparently wherever we are has seriously crappy drainage.
“We can’t stay at that gross place,” I call after him, trudging toward the car.
He glances back, happy smile still in place, as though he’s enjoying this. “Scared?”
“Um, yes. Of herpes. Mold. Bedbugs.”
Reece laughs low and loud as he pulls the keys out of his soaking jeans and pops the trunk. As I stare at his happy profile, it hits me that the thing I should really be scared of is standing right in front of me: the boy who once broke my heart, and who I’m terrified will soon have the power to do it all over again.
Chapter 25
Reece
To the surprise of no one, the motel has plenty of rooms available. No need for us to share a room.
I tell myself I’m relieved. Relieved that there will be a wall and two doors separating me from the soaking wet, laughing Lucy.
How long since I’ve seen her like this, I wonder, as we dash from the check-in desk to our rooms.
How long since I’ve been like this? Light, and carefree and…happy?
Not since my dad got sick, certainly.
Maybe not even since I’d locked eyes with a heartbroken Lucy over the blond head of Abby Mancuso and known that my life would never be the same, that I would never again feel as happy as I had that summer when Lucy had looked at me like I was the light of her life—like I was worthy.
But I’m feeling something close now. Got a glimpse of what my life could have been like when I stupidly kissed her on the side of the freeway yesterday like a guy who couldn’t help himself.
Because I couldn’t. Nothing could have stopped me from kissing Lucy at that moment, her looking all proud and victorious and sweaty, and mine.
Yesterday, she’d been dangerous to me, and the situation’s only getting worse. More intense.
I know it feels like hippie horseshit, but I have the weirdest sense that this apocalyptic rain is somehow cleansing. Like, it’s washing away the crap of the past few years, clearing away the memories that haunt us both.
The motel’s parking lot isn’t nearly as flooded as the diner’s, but it doesn’t really matter. We’re soaked through, my leather jacket probably ruined, but I don’t care.
I don’t care about anything but the fact that we’re both smiling, and maybe a little about the fact that Lucy’s green tank top is plastered against her body, revealing the outline of her bra, and if I stare hard enough, the outline of her nipples.