below the Star Trek logo were the words GO TREK YOURSELF. After spending the night hanging out with Leigh, Paige changed her travel plans to meet us in Nelson.
I finish washing my hands and rip off a sheet of paper towel. “Sorry. Just couldn’t bring myself to use the gas station washroom. Then the check-in took forever, and I got stuck talking with a girl in the dorm. I better not have a bladder infection from holding it in.” I took one look at the situation that was the public restroom in the grimy gas station and decided reaching stage three of the have-to-pee stages was preferable to catching a rare disease. “What was up with Sam, anyway?” I ask, curious about their private chitchat.
She crosses her arms and leans against the bright blue wall. “Nothing. The guy thinks I have a bad attitude or something.”
I choke on my laugh. “Can’t imagine why he’d think that.”
“Wow, Nina, is that sarcasm? My little girl is all grown up.” She winks at me and glances around. “You know, the last time the two of us were chatting it up in a hostel bathroom, you gave me this rockin’ haircut.” With a wry grin, she runs her hand up the back of her short hair.
“Yeah, it rocks, but you should be thanking the salon that fixed my hack job. I’m not sure I should be signing up for beauty school anytime soon.” I crumple the paper towel and toss it in the trash.
“Nina, do the words ‘thank’ and ‘you’ sound familiar? I swear you’ve got some compliment complex. Or inferiority complex. Or a fear-of-being-cool complex. You need to stop with all the self-deprecating crap.”
If I hadn’t heard that exact same stuff from Sam, I might be offended by her tirade. But Leigh is Leigh, always honest and quick to point out the stuff most people avoid. And Sam is Sam, always trying to get me to see the best in myself. And make me laugh.
“Okay. Thank and you. Better? Between you and Sam, I might actually leave this trip a functioning member of society.” I lean toward the mirror and drag my fingers through my hair. “Did you hear Sam at the gas station? Pretending he was local with that god-awful accent he was putting on? For sure they thought he was mentally challenged.” When he winked at me after his performance, my laughter took a backseat to the heat in my belly.
She makes her favorite throaty sound. “Honestly, you guys need to fuck already. I’m tired of trying to breathe through the sex pheromones fogging up the car. It’s been two weeks since the ‘dry-fucking incident’ I’m not supposed to mention, and every time you talk about him, you look ready to come.”
I duck as if I can avoid being hit by her bluntness. “Oh, my God, Leigh.” I check under the stall doors to make sure no one’s here. “What are you even talking about?” Conversing with her is like being subjected to spontaneous rounds of dodgeball, said ball being swapped for the naked truth.
She bites at her cuticles, unfazed. “Whatever. I know you know what I mean. Man-candy can’t keep his hands to himself whenever he’s near you. It’s worse than watching mating rituals on the Nature channel.”
My jaw practically hits the floor. It doesn’t matter how much time I spend with Leigh, her tell-it-as-it-is attitude never gets less shocking. I just wish she’d channel some of that brutal honesty toward her own life. Every time I suggest she tell her folks she’s gay, I get shot down. She won’t confess to Sam, either. Although the way those two are always hurling subtle, and not-so-subtle, digs at each other, I can’t say I’m surprised.
I shrug when I recover from her straightforwardness. “You’re crazy. Sam isn’t into me, he’s with Lacey.” My tone is unconvincing, even to myself. I’ve dissected his reasoning for staying with her a thousand times. “Lacey’s fragile. If I end things, it might push her over the edge.” It doesn’t fully make sense. Not with the way things are progressing between us. There’s the constant touching—his hands on my hips, arms, back, or anywhere whenever he’s close. The heated looks I thought went unnoticed before this talk with Leigh. I’ve also felt his priapism against my backside on more than one occasion when he’s standing behind me. And he still likes to talk about forking. A lot. It seems the enjoyment he gets from making me blush