Joel has to drive somewhere, and Carter is busy. It’s just you and Joel, and you’re taking the smaller van. As Joel gets in the driver’s seat, for the first time he tells you to buckle up. It feels silly, given everything that’s happened in this van while it was moving, but you do it anyway. The road is mostly quiet, and you never see another car. It feels weird having a seat all to yourself, but seeing Joel drive really turns you on. His massive triceps casually flex with every turn. His thick thighs shake a little on the bumpy road. Joel looks over at you and does a double take, allowing himself the hint of a smile.
“What?” you ask.
He shakes his head as though to brush it off, then says. “The way you were lookin’ at me.” His nose pulls downward and he bites his lip like he might actually laugh otherwise. It gives you such a burst of joy that you could cry if you dwelled on it too long.
“How was I looking?” you smile.
He shakes his head. His nose twitches again.
“How?” you plead.
“. . . Like,” he shrugs. “Like you’re . . .watchin’ a movie, or somethin’.”
You shrink into your dress to hide your smile, embarrassed of how wide it is, and for something so simple to make you so happy. It’s wrong to feel happy when you’re driving by pits full of skeletons and rotted clothes, you think. Looking out the window, looking at anything but Joel, is a reality check, but you can’t keep your eyes away long.
You bring your left knee up on the seat and turn toward him, resting the upper left side of your head on the headrest as you watch. “I never see you drive, you know.”
“Guess not,” he agrees.
“I like how you do it.”
He reaches over and pets the crown of your head, and his eyes travel down your body before he returns his hand to the wheel. “Dress looks good on ya."
“I love it,” you gush. You fiddle with the hem and look down. There's that sting and pressure behind your eyes again. It’s the fact that he picked it up for you, back when he used to leave you at the trailer. And he didn’t give it to you until now. He wasn’t sure you’d like it, he said. Then, on this unseasonably warm day, he finally took it out of the bottom of one of his drawers. Like it was always in the back of his mind--you'd like to know what else is back there.
Unshed tears begin to blur your vision, and when you blink, the tears web your lashes. Joel notices. He watches you for a second and your lip quivers. He looks at the road again. You bring your knee down from the seat and look straight ahead, and when you blink again, one rolls down. Joel draws in a slow breath through his nose and looks at you as he exhales. You wipe your eyes with your fingers, then glance at him, brow furrowed, and quickly shake your head like you don’t wanna talk about it.
He nods in agreement and goes back to watching the road. A few seconds later, he looks at you again and puts his hand on your thigh. His voice takes on a soothing tone. “I know, sweet pea.” After a minute, he opens his mouth to say something, but doesn't.
He rubs your thigh, then squeezes it. You nod and take a deep breath.
He adjusts his head on the headrest, looking pensively at the road. He's driving with one hand. He makes everything look so easy.
Sitting side by side, with what feels like a massive gap in between, even though he can reach you. . . It suddenly feels wronger than ever. You feel strange and exposed without your bodies together.
“I feel weird in this seat,” you admit and wish it didn’t come out whiny.
As soon as the sentence leaves your mouth, he takes his foot off the gas and the white noise of the gravel becomes slower, more soothing as he pulls off the road. He parks on the grass, surveys the area in silence for a few seconds, then turns off the engine. He gets out and gently closes the door. You take off your seatbelt while he’s coming around to your side.
You start to open the passenger door, and he opens it the rest of the way. You scoot to the edge of the seat and he leans into the van. You wrap your arms around his neck and his hands on your back pull you even more toward the edge. “It’s okay, I got ya,” he murmurs. You wrap your legs loosely around him, and he pulls you flush. A moan slips out when you feel him against you. You lift your chin, and when your lips brush his beard, he tilts his head down. His lips quickly find yours, and he moans quietly into your mouth as his embrace tightens.
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Thank you so much for reading! And ty for the photo, Lum! 🌸🫛 💕
I imagine she picks the flower at some point on this trip as well.
