Road Trip with a Nerd - Stephanie Street Page 0,12
to help drive, but I can’t drive a stick.” I gestured to the long chrome gearshift between us a little ruefully.
“That’s okay. I don’t mind driving.” He shifted in his seat a bit and cleared his throat. “Actually, I guess we need to talk about that. On the way out, I stopped and just slept in the back.”
My eyes widened. He’d slept in the back of the truck? Overnight? Wasn’t that dangerous?
He quickly glanced at me before returning his eyes to the road. “I stayed at a campground. I have a sleeping bag and stuff back there. But we don’t have to do that if you don’t want to,” he hurried to say.
I looked over my shoulder to the bed of the truck. That explained what was in the other bag. It was big and stuffed full. It must have Grant’s sleeping gear in it. I took a second to study the bed of the truck, imagining what it would be like for both of us to sleep back there. There was plenty of room, but we’d be close to each other.
My stomach fluttered.
“What else would we do?”
“Well, I guess we could try to find a hotel. It would probably be pretty expensive without a reservation. But we could put it on my credit card.” His brow pulled low over his eyes. He didn’t want to spring for a hotel. He would, for me, but he didn’t want to.
I glanced into the bed of the truck again and made a decision. “It’s okay. We can camp in the truck. Do you have an extra sleeping bag?”
He shot me a side-eyed look. “We’ll make it work. It’s another four hours to the place I stayed. I think we should try and make it there. It’s almost exactly halfway between Salt Lake and Indy. That way, we’ll make it home tomorrow before it gets too late. Does that work for you?”
I thought about everything he said before nodding, realizing I trusted Grant. If he thought the plan was a good one, then so did I. “Sounds good to me.”
I stared out the window for a few minutes, but then I dared to ask the question I’d been curious about since I’d seen Grant that morning.
“What made you decide to drive all this way instead of flying with everyone else?” It didn’t make any sense. No way driving could be any cheaper than flying, and it took so much longer.
Grant shifted again, but this time I got the impression the question made him more uncomfortable than his seat. “I’m afraid of flying.”
“What? No way. I don’t believe you.” He’d been too quick to throw out that explanation for me to take him at his word. Grant was a science nerd. Surely, he knew too much about aeronautics to be afraid of flying. Even I knew it was safer to fly than to drive, statistically speaking.
He chewed on his lower lip, drawing my attention to it. Grant’s lower lip was just a bit fuller than the top. It looked soft. The craziest thought I’d had in a long time ran through my mind. What would it be like to kiss Grant Baker?
No!
There would be no thinking about kissing Grant.
“It’s true,” Grant replied, tugging my thoughts back to our conversation. “My uncle died in a crop dusting accident when I was a little kid. I was there. Saw the whole thing.”
“Grant, that’s awful. I’m so sorry. How old were you?”
“Six. I’ve refused to get on a plane since then. I turned nineteen last week. My parents signed a waiver with the school so I could drive myself.”
I mulled that over for the next few minutes, my thoughts turning to what I could remember about Grant from school. Obviously, he’d participated in FBLA, but didn’t do any sports. Had he been in any other clubs? Who were his friends? Did he have a girlfriend?
That last one had me studying his profile. Suddenly, I wanted to know everything there was to know about Grant.
“What?” he asked, probably wondering why I was acting so weird, staring at the side of his face.
“I was just thinking I don’t know much about you. I never knew you were a farm kid. I know you’re super smart and in FBLA. But not much more than that.”
Grant didn’t say anything for a moment. “That’s about it. Not much else to know,” he replied, sort of self-deprecatingly.
“I don’t believe that. I bet there is lots to know.” Warming to my topic, I turned