Arizona Heat (8 page)

“Reagan?
”
I ask, drunken stupor reaching its sloppy peak as I lay under the covers of the hotel bed.

“Josie,
”
he says and I unintentionally groan aloud.

“Say it again,
”
I demand.

“Josie?”

“No, not quizzically. Like you said it before.”

“Quizzically? Big word for someone so liquored up,
”
he laughs.

“Lay with me?
”
I ask, liquid courage taking over my brain.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,
”
he says.

“I like you,
”
I admit.

“I like you too,
”
he says and I giggle like a little school girl.

“Lay with me,
”
I say again.

This time he doesn't hesitate. Reagan gets out of his bed and slides under the covers of mine. He lays awkwardly on his back and it takes a delayed amount of time for me to realize he is waiting for me to make the first move. I roll over and nuzzle my face into his shoulder, throwing my leg over him. He seems a tad surprised by my audacity but effectively drapes his arm over my shoulder and rests a hand on my thigh. My head spins, partially because I’m completely wasted, but also because the warmth of Reagan’s body feels like home.

The sweat drips down my forehead and I feel like I am going to vomit. It takes a few seconds to open my eyes, bright lights blinding me and the pounding in my head is amplified by the rising run. I’m in a hotel. I’m in Vegas. I run through the things I know to be true. My mind drifts to Reagan.
Reagan
. Where is he? The answer to that question is regrettably: between my legs. Our limbs are wrapped around each other. My hand rests comfortably on his beating heart and my leg is pushed up against his, um, yeah, that thing.

Oh, fucking hell. I dislodge my arms and legs from his sleeping form and stumble over to the bathroom. After alleviating my stomach of last night’s festivities, the emptiness in my belly is replaced with guilt. I slept in a bed with another man and this time it wasn’t completely platonic. If waking up with your legs wrapped around someone else isn't cheating, (even if you didn’t actually do anything, not even kiss) I don't know what is. I’ve emotionally cheated and the guilt in my stomach presses down all the same.

I can’t deny my attraction to Reagan anymore, not even to myself. As the master of suppressing emotions, I can usually push aside all my selfishness, but not anymore. I want him, more than I’ve ever wanted anything, and I don’t think it’s his stardom.

Simon is a good guy and I feel like a complete asshole for being so foolish. I knew that this trip would end in catastrophe, one way or another. Nothing good could have come from an engaged woman going on an extended road trip with a sexy as hell rock star. The decent thing to do would be to call Simon immediately to explain everything and break off our engagement, if for no other reason than I’m not sure about my feelings for him anymore.

I hear Reagan stir in the other room. Overwhelming dread takes over me and I decide to call Simon when I actually have some alone time. I don’t want to fight with him in front of Reagan and it’s not fair to put Reagan in a more awkward position than I already have. This was my mistake and he shouldn't be involved.

“Josie,
”
Reagan calls from the other room and my heart twists.

“Coming,
”
I shout, before clearing my stomach one more time. I walk back into the hotel room timidly, b-lining straight for my suitcase. Packing everything up, Reagan eyes me speculatively from the bed we shared. Why does he have to look so perfect with his chest out, silver cross taunting me for the places I can’t touch? I make calculated movements as I pack up my clothes.

“Josie?
”
Reagan asks hesitantly, treading carefully at my obvious bad mood.

“Yes,
”
I say more harshly than I intend.

“Would you mind driving for a bit while I sleep in the RV?”

“Sure,
”
I shrug, distracted in my own thoughts.

After taking a quick shower, I check my phone and realize that Simon still hasn't called me back from last night. I guess he is still mad.
For a good reason.

We make our way down to the lobby to check out and I shift impatiently from side to side. I don’t know why I am so eager to get out of here, it won’t fix my problems.

We climb into the RV and Reagan leans his chair back, quickly dosing off into a deep sleep. How can he sleep right after waking up? We weren't even out
that
late and he didn't drink. I drive on the open road as we exit the city and go north. Reagan said he didn't have a plan so I figure if I drive in the opposite direction of Arizona then I’m going the right way.

Before I know it, we are well into Utah and I’m contemplating my entire existence. I wonder why I bothered to stay in New York for med school. I wanted to go back to the West Coast but Simon was persistent about staying. He’s from Connecticut and didn't want to stray too far from home. Meanwhile, I’m a million miles away from Arizona, missing
my
home and
my
family, for what? Simon? He sits on the couch all day. Surely he could do that on the West Coast. Then at least I’d have the comfort of home while watching him waste away in a bowl of two day old salsa.

I glance over at Reagan, the afternoon sun shining brightly on his gorgeous, unconscious face. The landscape reminds me of an old western, something with John Wayne on a horse with spurs and a lasso. I picture Reagan in chaps and a cowboy hat and laugh out loud. How he ever fit into the Southwest scene is beyond me. I guess that is why he lives in LA now.

His black hair glistens in the sunlight and his tan skin compliments the orange hues of the desert rock. I resist the urge to reach over and touch his handsome jawline. He is the most enticing sight I’ve ever seen. Between the mystery behind those dark brown eyes and the celestial sound of his voice, I can’t help but feel a connection. It’s hard to tell if he feels one too, but the way he looks at me is a good indication that he feels something. Even if it is just raw attraction.

“Josie,
”
a voice whispers from the seat next to me. His eyes are closed tight as he holds his stomach and moans. The words that come out next are mumbled frustrations. I’m not sure what he is saying. I reach over to gently shove his shoulder, causing his eyes to flutter open.

“Nightmare?
”
I ask with a shy smile. Looking at him with my newfound realization is like looking at an entirely different person.

“Something like that,
”
he answers simply, readjusting his seat to an upright position. “Need me to drive?”

“Nope, I got it.”

“Since the weather is okay I’ll believe you this time,
”
he says with a smirk. I feel my cheeks redden with blush. Now he has me feeling nervous again. The words “I like you too
”
replay in my head over and over as he casually stares out the window.

We drive in moderate silence, listening to the quiet radio as we pass a sign for the Colorado border. Reagan rubber necks the sign and looks over at me with wide eyes.

“I slept through the entire state of Utah?
”
He gapes at me, but I just shrug.

“Yeah you were asleep for like six hours. It’s three o’clock.”

“You didn't stop for a bathroom break or something and think to wake me up?”

“I stopped a few hours ago at a rest stop but you wouldn't wake up. Don’t worry, I checked to make sure you were still alive. You mumbled something under your breath and swatted at me. It was a pretty good indication that you didn't want to be disturbed.”

“Well, we should stop soon for the night,
”
Reagan suggests.

“I think we are getting close to Glenwood Springs. There should be a campground where we can park the RV for the night.”

“Perfect.”

We find a campground just off the highway near Glenwood Springs. The lush greenery is vastly different from the miles of desert I’ve been staring at all day. The pine trees are some of the tallest I’ve ever seen and I am surprised at how quickly the grass recovered from the icy snow on the ground.

I insist on paying for the campsite, which Reagan refuses, so I get us set up at the front office while he uses the restroom. He shook his head when I told him what I had done but I had to make it clear that he wasn't paying for everything.

We are assigned a spot near the back of the grounds that is close to a bathroom and I am grateful. Reagan and I agreed that using the RV toilet was off limits because neither of us wants, or really knows how to clean it out.

After I back into our space, I hop out to stretch my legs. It’s a comfortable 60 degrees and the air smells like fresh pine and nature. I quickly realize we must
really
be in the middle of the woods because I have exactly zero reception. So much for calling Simon now that I have a moment to myself. Of course the campground doesn't have Wi-Fi either so I can’t even try and contact him on iMessage or Facebook.

“You okay?
”
Reagan asks as I mumble a few profanities with my phone held in the air.

“I can’t get a signal and there’s no internet,
”
I huff.

“The front office has internet. We could walk back up there and see if they will let us use their computer.”

“Good idea.”

We walk up to the people at the front desk who lead us to some ancient looking computers in a back room. Apparently these are the ones reserved for guests. I click the “on
”
button and wait as the machine revs to life. The dial up screen flickers on and I tip my head back to groan. I never thought I would have to go through this again. It takes what feels like my whole life to get past the screeching telephone noises. Reagan smirks as he boots up the computer next to me.

“You’ve got mail,
”
the computer says.

“No I don’t, liar,
”
I mumble and Reagan laughs. I shoot him a glare as I open the internet browser and type in Facebook.

Hey Simon. I am in Glenwood Springs, Colorado and the cell service isn’t good. I was going to call you tonight so we could talk but I don’t think I’ll be in a better service area until tomorrow. My face is almost all the way healed and my neck isn’t sore.

Not that you care.

I hope you are doing all right at home. I’ll be back soon. Talk to you tomorrow.

I strategically don’t mention Reagan or use any verbiage like “we need to talk.
”
I don’t want him to freak out when he can’t reach me. Even if he has been more of an ass than usual lately, I don't want him to worry more than he probably already is. After all,
I
am the one crossing the country with another man. Simon seemed genuinely okay with it but I know he probably feels a little betrayed. It makes me feel like the biggest jerk in the world, but at the same time, I’m having the time of my life with Reagan. I think we are actually becoming good friends. A friend I’m ridiculously attracted to, but lots of people have hot friends and don't jump their bones, right?

“Want to go for a hike?
”
I ask.

“Um,
”
Reagan mutters while rubbing the back of his neck nervously.
Was that an inappropriate question
?
“I don’t really have the energy for that.”

“
What?
You slept all day,
”
I gawk.

“I think all that sleep made me drowsy,
”
he shrugs.

I get the feeling that there is something more going on but I decide not to press it. We might be becoming friends, but we still don’t know each other that well.

Once we return to the RV, I realize I haven't eaten all day and my stomach is grumbling. Reagan settles in at the little kitchen table with a notepad and his guitar. There is something about him feeling comfortable enough to write around me that sends a warm feeling through my chest.

“Can you write in front of anybody?
”
I ask.

“No,
”
he answers simply and I smile to myself.

“What do you want for dinner?”

“What are my choices?
”
he asks, strumming chords on his guitar.

“Um,
”
I mutter while looking through the tiny cabinets. “Looks like mac and cheese and hot dogs, or mac and cheese and burgers. Oh, and there are some potato chips.”

“How old are those burgers?”

I look at the expiration date and wince.

“The hot dogs should still be good,
”
he says with a smile. What a trooper.

“I’m going to go start a fire. We can pick up some food tomorrow.”

“You need help with the fire?
”
he asks with a raised brow that suggests he doesn't trust me.

I scoff and walk out of the camper. I’ll show him. There is some leftover firewood next to the pit and a newspaper in the center console of the RV. Thank goodness my dad left matches otherwise I’d have to swallow my pride and see if Reagan had a lighter or something.

The fire starts quickly. Everything is pretty dry so it lights up with ease. I get the coals good and hot before placing the grate over the pit and putting the hot dogs on some tin foil. Pulling out a pot, I fill it with water and wait patiently for it to boil. Once I get the mac and cheese cooking, Reagan walks out of the RV with a perturbed expression.

“Everything all right?
”
I ask.

Reagan shrugs.

“Writer’s block?”

“Something like that,
”
he answers simply and I decide to not pry.

“How’s dinner coming?
”
he asks, admiring the food on the fire.

“Mac and cheese is almost done and then I just have to brown the hot dogs.”

“I’ll watch the dogs,
”
Reagan says, his chin raised with masculine pride.

“How chivalrous of you,
”
I joke.

We finish cooking everything in tandem, somehow finishing at the same time. Halfway through dinner I realize that sitting in front of a fire with Reagan feels like the most natural thing in the world. I feel an overwhelming sense of comfort.

“What ever happened with my brother?
”
I ask through mouthfuls of mac and cheese.

“We just kind of drifted apart,
”
Reagan shrugs.

“Why?”

“I found my music and Charlie found the military.”

I nod in agreement, knowing all too well what he is talking about. My brother had a rough time when he was younger, like Reagan. A lot to be angry about, I guess. It’s why they connected, but when Charlie found the military it all changed. He became a straight edge, fully committed to his mind, body, and responsibility to his country. I’m proud of him.

Reagan kept on with his music, and everything that came with it. I remember when Sara and I were freshman; we snuck out to see one of Reagan’s shows when they still sounded like a garage band. There were mountains of underage girls swarming the stage and I found it off-putting, even at fifteen. I guess that’s why I have such a hard time believing he doesn't sleep with groupies.

We finish eating and Reagan announces that he is going to bed. He was quiet all night, well, quieter than usual. Probably still tired, like he said. I gaze up at the stars and am surprised at how happy I am to be rid of any electronic devices with internet or cell connectivity. It’s an unexpected sense of freedom. I couldn’t answer anyone’s messages even if I wanted to and I am completely alone with my thoughts.

There are no revelations to be found in the dark corners of my mind that I haven't already figured out which disappoints me. All of the driving today allowed me to realize how tired I am of Simon slumming around while I try and make something of myself. I realize that Reagan’s angelic voice and attractiveness are something I can no longer ignore, and, most importantly, I miss my family.

With no new epiphanies but a newfound eagerness for spontaneity, I hop into bed next to Reagan. He is fast asleep, looking as peaceful as I’ve ever seen. His head is tilted up ever so slightly and I reach down to kiss his exposed neck, if for no other reason than he has been an absolute gentlemen this entire trip. He slept most of the day and I still feel like he has spent more time with me than Simon has in months. When we get back to the world of constant connectivity tomorrow, I don't know what I am supposed to do.