Love and Relativity (4 page)

Squeezing her shoulders again, I steered her back toward the front door. “You have every right to fear getting hurt. You’re talking about Ruben, here. But you’re thinking way too far ahead. Now you’re stuck dragging some poor guy around, and you’re just using him. That’s really crappy, Whit.”

“I know, I know,” she whined, blocking the doorknob from me. “I’m a terrible person. But in all fairness, I’m not completely using Enrique. We take American Lit together and have lunch once a week. He’s a good friend.”

I didn’t say a word.

“Emma!”

“What?”

“This is where you’re supposed to say ‘Okay, Whit. You’re not a total bitch.’”

“Sorry. Not happening.”

“Damn you!” She pulled on the knob and swung the door open to storm out.

“I say when we get back from this trip, you don’t say a word about it to Ruben. He doesn’t have to know you brought someone. Just pretend this never happened. Next week when you see him at Pete’s, man up and tell him how you really feel and be done with it.” I turned to lock the door behind us and joined her at the top of the stairwell, freezing when I heard loud rock music blaring from a stereo in the parking lot below. She gazed at me innocently, coughing and clamping her hands tightly underneath her chin. “Whitney...”

“Here’s another time you’re supposed to say ‘Okay, Whit. You’re not a total bitch.’”

A horn honked and a chorus of laughter ensued amidst the loud music, and one glance over the stairway railing made me wonder for the second time this morning what in the world possessed me to wake up at the crack of dawn and agree to this trip.

“Good morning, Pumpkin!” Jackson’s voice carried through the apartment building hallway up to meet me. He rested on the hood of his truck, Ruben, Kayla, and Michelle gathered around him with coffees in hand. Jeff jumped out of the back of the truck with a girl I didn’t recognize and sauntered over to Whitney’s trunk to toss their bags inside. “Can we get a move on? What’re you doing up there, arranging your canned goods alphabetically? Playing dress up with your favorite rubber gloves? Oh, I know! You’re having a meeting with Mr. Clean, aren’t you?” He wiggled his eyebrows and I turned and glared at Whitney. Only he could make a cleaning product sound so incredibly dirty.

Holy hell in a handbag.

I’d already given up my quiet, peaceful weekend at home by myself for a girlfriend getaway. That would have been fun, and I wouldn’t have to spend the weekend alone. Relaxing girlfriend time was what I needed. A crowded, rowdy frat party on wheels was a whole different story.

Whitney bit her lip when she saw my expression. “I really am sorry, Em,” she whispered. “They wanted to come along. I know what this weekend means to you. You don’t have to go...but I’d really, really like you to. Kayla, Michelle and I don’t have a thing to say to one another, and I don’t know that Kelly chick, but I think she’s into Ruben.”

Oh, good Lord. This was all too much soap opera drama for 8 o’clock on a Saturday morning. I glared down at Jackson and back at Whitney, and her eyes said it all:
You need some support this weekend. I’m doing this for you.

“Who am I riding with?” I sighed, starting down the stairwell. “They can’t ride in the back of Jackson’s truck like that for three hours on the interstate.”

“Yes!” She hopped. “Um, yeah...about that...”

“You’re sticking me with Jackson, aren’t you?”

“He can only fit three people in his truck, and I can’t split up the others. They all know each other and it would be awkward. And you know Kayla’s not budging from his side.” True. She was his latest pet, and she’d been loving every minute of it.

We stopped at the bottom of the stairs, and I caught Jackson and Kayla groping each other from the corner of my eye as they waited. Fan-freaking-tastic. Just what I wanted to be stuck in a car with for three hours.

“Put Ruben with them. Problem solved.”

She implored me with those bright green eyes, begging me not to do that to her.

“Fine.” I started moving toward Jackson’s truck. “But if we kill each other, our blood is on your hands.”

“Fair enough.” She bounced next to me and bumped my shoulder, and I gave her a small smile. I could suck it up and deal with Jackson if it made her this happy. The girl was my heartbeat.

“Uh...you’re riding with us?” Jackson piped up when I rounded the truck to the passenger seat.

“Afraid so.”

“I’m sure Ruben would switch with you...hang on.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked to Whitney’s car, leaving me with Kayla. Once again, her cell phone had appeared, and she was texting away, not even bothering with a simple ‘hello.’ I started to greet her first but decided against it, instead using the opportunity to observe Jackson as he approached the others.

I slid my shades on, finding myself comparing him to Chris. He was sporting a worn pair of jeans and a relaxed, navy blue button-up that flashed an eyeful of his ink, and his stubble was sexy as ever, complementing the dark shade of his untamed hair. He had about one thing in common with Chris: confidence. Other than that, Chris had nothing on Jackson. Jackson was full of life, always on the prowl for the next adventure. Chris was completely set in his ways, which is why it shouldn’t have come as a surprise when he bailed on our plan to move out of state. He hated change, I embraced it, and Jackson leapt on and tackled it until he conquered the hell out of it. He was open to what life had to offer him, not hampered by the circumstances or bogged down by a million reasons why he shouldn’t do something.

I lowered my gaze and pretended to toy with my purse when he swung around to walk back over to me and Kayla.

“Well, looks like you’re stuck with us. Ruben wants to ride in the same car as Kelly.”

“Oh? Okay, then.” Poor Whitney.

“Kayla, you ready?” He tugged her sleeve.

She finally slipped her phone away and looked up, first at him, then at me. “Yeah, um. Sure. So she’s riding with us?”

“Yes,
she
is,” I smiled sweetly.

“Good times,” Jackson mumbled, climbing into his truck.

I slid into the passenger seat after Kayla and she scooted in the middle, Jackson’s arm loosely draped around her shoulders. I cringed when a pile of garbage crunched beneath my feet, in awe that a human being could consume so much crap and leave it to rot in the car. Food wrappers, pieces of fishing gear, and all sorts of junk were plastered to the truck floor. It gave me a headache just looking at it.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist,” Jackson said, eyeing my disgusted expression as he turned the ignition. “I know you’re already sizing up how much hand sanitizer you’re going to need to douse everything.”

“So help me, if something crawls out of one of these bags, I will castrate you.”

“I bet you’d love that.”

By the time we jumped on the interstate, I’d collected all the garbage by our feet and shoved it in a plastic bag, and I wiped down the dashboard and door handle with enough hand sanitizer to kill a small army. Jackson’s rock station blared so loud I felt my brain shake in my skull. With my head propped on the side of the window, I worked hard to focus on my Kindle as we made our way north.

“Could we turn this down a little?” I shouted, leaning over to peer at Jackson.

“What’s that?”

“The radio!” I held up my Kindle, knowing full well he knew what I meant.

“You have a problem with my music?”

“I have a problem with the volume,” I shouted, reaching over to turn the volume down. The second my fingers grazed the dial, he leaned over Kayla to glare at me.

“Oh, I’m sorry, is that too loud for your granny ears?”

“I
wish
I had granny ears so I didn’t have to hear that crap.”

“Crap?” his voice shot up an octave and he sat back in his seat, shaking his head. “What would you prefer we listen to, your tree-hugging hippie folk rock?”

“That would be perfect, thanks for asking.”

“Jackson, be nice,” Kayla scolded him.

“What are you reading,
Huckleberry Finn
or some shit?” He used the fingers that were dangling over Kayla’s shoulder to tap the side of my Kindle.

“I wouldn’t classify Twain’s literature as ‘some shit,’ and no, Jackson, I’m not reading
Huckleberry Finn
.”

“Well what is it?”

“None of your business.” I flipped my Kindle off and shoved it in my bag. He would have a field day and make the next few hours living hell for me if he found out I was reading a romance novel. Hell, if he discovered my secret, he’d never let me live it down. I was a hardcore romance junkie, and I was damn proud of it...except when it meant admitting that pride to Jackson.

“Right. It’s too sophisticated for me, I’m sure.”

“Don’t you read?”

“No. Who has time to read?”

“Plenty of people do. You should try it some time.”

“Well, we can’t all be that special.”

“Ugh,” Kayla sighed. “Let’s turn the music back up.”

“Sounds good to me,” Jackson said, flicking the dial up until the windows were rattling again.

Over the next few hours, I jammed my earbuds into my ears and attempted to listen to humpback whale sounds, while Jackson blasted more rock tunes. I read a few chapters of my book, while Jackson played air guitar over the steering wheel. We bickered over which theme park we would go to, where to stop for lunch, and who would get first dibs on the best hotel room.

By the time we made it to Orlando, we’d argued more than any seasoned married couple and were contemplating admitting one another into the nearest asylum.

Whitney’s jaw dropped when she saw me jump out of Jackson’s truck with a bag of garbage and a bottle of hand sanitizer. “You
cleaned
his truck?”

“It was filthy.”

The driver door slammed and Jackson joined us, yanking the bag from my hands. “No one asked Miss OCD over here to clean it. And it was not filthy, it was cozy and lived in. Now it smells like a hospital. I hate hospitals.”

Whitney shrugged. “One man’s trash, and all that.”

“Kayla,” I turned to her as she slid out of the truck, “his truck is disgusting, right? You can’t tell me all that garbage doesn’t drive you crazy.”

She smiled coyly in Jackson’s direction. “When I’m in his truck, I’m not usually paying attention to the garbage.”

I rolled my eyes and walked over to Whitney’s car for my bag. Everyone was already out and stretching their legs, and Whitney headed into the lobby to check us in.

“Here are the keys, guys. Rooms 714 and 715,” she said, returning to pop open her trunk. Enrique and Ruben swept in to snatch all the bags before we had a chance, and the others made their way inside. Sliding me a glance, Whitney winked and shut the trunk. She answered her cell and began to stroll after them, waving to let me know she’d be a few minutes. I started to follow but slowed when I caught a glimpse of the pool and decided to take a detour from the group. A few seconds of peace and quiet before round two in the ring with Jackson sounded nice, and I felt like I needed to give Jen at least two minutes of my undivided attention.

Not that I didn’t think of her at least a thousand times a day already.

Slipping my sandals off, I stepped over the pool ledge and skimmed my foot on the surface, sighing contently when the cool water drifted over my toes. I tilted my head back to bask in the sun, closing my eyes to take in its rays, and envisioned her enveloped in its warmth, cocooned and smiling down at the world. The comforting thought shifted to a grievous one when I remembered it was the moon that took her; nighttime was the culprit. She didn’t belong to the sun. Not in my memories, anyway. Inhaling a fresh breath of air, I told myself it didn’t matter what took her. Her spirit dwelled in Forever’s realm, and there it had to be bright and warm.

It had to.

I stepped out of the pool and headed back to the main corridor, admiring the hotel’s whimsical sea theme as I passed through. Bright yellow, teal, and shades of blue mosaic tile surrounded the lobby’s fountain, and brass touches with mermaid, treasure chest, and Atlantean accents adorned the hallways and stairwells.

I curved around the hallway and walked to the end toward the elevator. The door dinged and I stepped inside, reaching for the seventh floor button.

“Hey, Em!” Jackson called out from the hall. “Hold that.”

My hand shot forward to bump the door open, and he dipped inside, shoving a piece of paper in his pocket. “Forgot something from the car.” He hit the button and stationed himself to my left. As the doors closed, I cleared my throat and eyed the empty space behind us. He gave me a side glance, a crooked grin tipping his lips into a smile.

I crossed my arms and looked straight ahead, knowing full well his inner 12-year-old boy was doing back flips right now.

“You know, Em...”

“Don’t even say it, Jackson.”

“You know my favorite part of Disney World?”

I bit my lip to force back a smile, eyes rolling upward to watch the floor numbers light up.
Two, three, four
...