The Road That Leads to Us (Us 1) - Page 38

Still chewing on my gigantic bite I rifled around in my backpack for my journal and marker. I knew I had a sharpie in there somewhere.

I nearly cried with joy when my hand finally closed around it.

I took another bite of my sandwich and laid the journal in my lap while I uncapped the sharpie.

Dean kept glancing over, trying to figure out what I was up to.

“Eyes on the road,” I warned him as I leaned over the journal, scribbling across it.

“What are you doing?” He finally asked, his curiosity getting the best of him.

“Hang on.”

He groaned, not liking being left out of the loop.

I didn’t know why it mattered to him anyway. He wasn’t ever seeing the contents of it.

“I’m done!” I cried, putting the cap back on the pen and finishing my sandwich.

“Lemme see!” Dean tried to snag the journal but I smacked his hand away.

“Ow,” he waved his hand in the air, “that hurt.”

“Aw, poor baby,” I pouted, “do you want me to kiss it and make it better?”

“No.” His brows furrowed into a line as he tried to pretend he was mad. “Tell me what you did to it.”

I shrugged. “I thought after what you said it was only appropriate that I titled this journal Dean & Willow’s Epic Road Trip. See, you got all excited for nothing. It wasn’t a big deal.”

“What do you write in there?” He asked me.

I narrowed my eyes on the side of his face. “You’ll never know.”

“It’s all about how devastatingly handsome I am, isn’t it?” He quipped. “Wait for it…” He paused. “Here comes the smolder.” He angled his jaw down and pursed his lips, glancing at me from the corner of his eye.

“You. Are. Insane.” I giggled and smacked his arm lightly.

“If I’m insane, then you should be in a straight jacket.”

I couldn’t really argue with him there.

I put my journal away and dug in my backpack for my sunglasses. The sun was already shining brightly and I didn’t want to squint.

I reached down and changed the radio, fiddling with it until I found an old rock station.

Dean chuckled and adjusted his grip on the steering wheel. “Most people ask before they change the radio in someone’s car…actually, most people just don’t do that.”

I grinned at him and stuck a lollipop in my mouth. “I’m not most people.”

“That’s true.” He reached out and turned down the volume.

I’d been jamming out to Aerosmith, so of course I glared at him.

“Why’d you do that?” I groaned. “That song is everything.”

“Let’s talk,” he said simply.

“Talk?” I repeated the word like it had offended me and wrinkled my nose. “What’s there to talk about?”

Tags: Micalea Smeltzer Us Romance
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