Before Thirty

5. Gwen

Esther and I are still in sync, and she grins over at me. "Exhilarating!" she shouts.

It is. It really is. And it's the first time since I boarded my plane in Detroit that I've been sure I've made the right choice. The practical whispers of my mother and Paige and even, surprisingly, Izzy, have faded to nothing.

I throw out my arms and suck in a deep lungful of air. Life was meant to be lived.

~ * ~

The next morning when we all pile onto the bus, I'm still buzzing. After we ziplined, I played third wheel to Esther and Colin's dinner at an upscale restaurant near the lodge. Between the mountain top adventure and the cost of my meal, I'm spending money I shouldn't be so early in the trip. Soon, I'll have to find ways to cut costs because I'm not supposed to work in Canada. The money I brought is the money I've got.

In exactly one hundred and seventy-eight days, I'm slated to fly out of St. John's, Newfoundland on the other side of the country. I'm not wasting a single day, even if I don't currently have anything planned, but the end date does mean I'll have to schedule certain transportation aspects to get me there on time.

Months from now. Lots of time. So much time. Logistics is my specialty.

The bus rumbles to life, and we're pulling out of the parking lot headed for Kamloops. Esther and Colin have already invited me on their planned adventures, and when I glance at my seat companion, I decide that whether he'll ever join me or not, I'll keep asking.

Some people are sand, their desires constantly shifting and changing. That's me. I'm sand. But other people are boulders, and you've got to wear them down. Blake and I might not have spent much time with each other, but there's no doubt he's a rock. Solid. Probably hella stubborn. The chances of us sleeping together are zero at this point, but if I can get him to smile, I'll count it as a win.

From my backpack at my feet, I draw out my sketchpad and a set of charcoal pencils. Since I can't keep eating up data costs on my phone, and my seat partner thinks grunting and pointing at his oversized headphones is s civilized method of communication, I need another way to amuse myself.

Caricatures are easy enough, and from memory I start outlining one of Esther. For the rest of the drive, I alternate between staring out the window and adding more details to the drawing.

By the time we pull into the next motel, my idle doodle has turned out to be far more elaborate than it would have been had I been sat beside anyone other than stoic, silent Blake. The guy is a wall. I flip the sketchbook closed and decide I'll show Esther later. We all rise to our feet to disembark, and when Blake lowers his headphones, I pounce.

"Esther, Colin, and I are doing a bike tour, visiting a winery, and then we're going to the casino. Any interest?" I peer up at him.

One of his eyebrows lifts, and he scans my face. The exact color of his eyes is still a mystery. Sometimes when I've managed to catch his gaze I've been sure they're green, and other times, they seem more blue. "Sounds like a full day," he murmurs.

"A fun day," I correct.

"No," he says, and then he tacks on as an afterthought, "thanks."

"Exercise, drinking, and gambling. It's the trifecta of awesomeness. You're missing out."

"I'm not even sure what to say to that." Blake pushes his dark hair out of his eyes with his big hand, but it's not quite long enough to tuck behind his ears, and so it merely falls forward again.

"You said something, so that's an improvement." I give him a wide grin to temper my blunt words.

"Hmm." He doesn't say anything else, but there's a slight softening in his face when he looks at me next time, as though he got my point.