The Art of Moving On | ✔

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN; part two

     Dres offers to drop me off at the airport Tuesday evening, which is a lucky thing because my mom and I are ignoring each other. She says I've still got too much angst and I've decided that she's a traitor to my love life goals.

     "You're insanely early for this flight," he says when he pulls up to the curb outside my terminal.

     "Like I said when you made the same comment earlier," I stare at him pointedly, "I have travel anxiety. Sue me."

     "What are you going to do for three hours?" he asks as I climb out. He grabs my duffle from the middle cushion because Dres carrying my bags is now a thing.

     I shrug my shoulders as he comes around the truck. "I don't know. Contemplate all the ways my mom ruins my life regularly."

     "Mature," Dres says.

     "That's me. Picture of maturity."

     He slides the bag onto my shoulder, and his fingers linger. It's already dark outside even though it's only five, but the lights from the airport make it easy to see him.

     I smirk. "You're going to miss me." Okay, so maybe that wasn't the most tactful way to point that out.

     "No, I'm actually quite looking forward to my five days of peace and quiet at the shop."

     "Uh huh," I say disbelievingly.

     "I'm not the one who bemoaned only having Sundays with me."

     "Wow, you're going to miss me like a lot, huh? This is doing wonders for my ego."

     "And who's only pacification was by giving them Saturday nights, too."

     "You know if you really start to miss me, like if you're just overcome and wrought with anguish, you can always Facetime me. Just be mindful of the time difference."

     Dres drops his face into a glare. I bite my tongue, happy to have won this round. It hits me then. "I did not freaking bemoan. I lamented. There is a difference. And pacify? You did not pacify me," I say heatedly. I add quickly as an afterthought, "I'll only be pacified if Saturday nights and goodnight make-outs are both on the table."

     Dres shakes his head, like he's questioning every decision that lead to him being right here with me. But he says, anyway, "How bout goodbye make outs?"

     "Well, I do have three hours to spare."

     The first message I receive when I turn my phone on, after landing in LA is from Dres.

         [DRES] 8:03 PM: Safe flight

         [DRES] 8:04 PM: Let me know when you land

     I'm grinning as I exit the ramp, and head towards the terminal exit.

[CAS] 11:58 PM: That was the longest flight of my life. It didn't feel that long the last time I came here. Granted, I slept the whole way. And this time I was stuck next to the brattiest kid ever to exist. He kept using my shoulder as a diving board for his action figures.

[CAS] 12:00 PM: ACTION FIGURES DRES. ACTION FIGURES.

         [DRES] 12:03 PM: This kid sounds like the child version of you

[CAS] 12:05 PM: Wow rude, I would never use someone's shoulder as a diving board. Now a cliff is a totally different story