Page 50 of Furious

I run a hand over the indentation her body made in the bedspread. That moment of closeness was painfully uncomfortable. Does El not want to be around me? The way she kissed me in the car says yes, as does her calling me to go on this trip. But maybe she’s not really thinking clearly. Maybe she just wants me here for moral support and I’m reading too much into her kisses. Maybe I’ll put a pillow between us in the night, just so I don’t accidentally roll over and start spooning her. Or maybe that would be a great thing?

The air conditioner kicks on then, sending a blast of freezing air across the tiny room. With it comes a dusty, floral scent that makes me believe Flora has been crushing rose petals and dropping them into the air conditioner. The air makes goosebumps rise across my bare legs, and I grab my messenger bag and scramble under the covers, burrowing deep in the floral sheets. My toes find the warm spot where El was sitting on the bedspread and I dig them into it.

The shower starts in the bathroom and El’s voice floats through the thin particleboard door. A smile pulls at the edge of my lips. El Blum sings in the shower. Who knew?

Outside, rain snickers against the windows, and thunder sounds in the distance. I’m so glad we got off the road. For tonight, it feels like we’re in a secret pocket of the world. One where none of the adults in our lives know where we are, and where we can be whoever we want to be. I inhale, taking in the scent of roses, dust, and freedom. This is what I crave—little spots of time where I’m answerable to no one and the world unfolds with mystery and promise. Thinking of that, I rifle through my bag, looking for the F1 Academy application.

It’s not there. My hands fly over my toothbrush, my extra socks, the tampons I threw into the bag in case my period surprises me, and my wallet, but there’s no application.

Panic flares in me, sweeping my breath away, and I grip the strap of the bag. Did the form fly out somewhere while we were driving? Is my dream lost to the winding roads between here and Dell’s Hollow? I could reprint it, yes, but I’d not saved the handwritten sections I’d labored over for days. It would be awful to have lost that form.

My mind flies back over the events of the evening, landing on when I pulled out the form and showed it to Dad.

Oh.

That’s right, of course.

After I got back to my bedroom, I took the form out and threw it on Grandma’s craft table. I’d almost torn it up, but I couldn’t quite bring myself to do that. But what was the point of saving it anyway? It’s not like Dad was going to sign it. What had he said? “You’ll find other dreams, JoJo.”

I doubt that, but maybe it is enough to not worry about it tonight. This is the time for existing in the weird rose-scented bubble of Flora’s crafting fever and sharing a bed with El Blum. Which is something I’d not even let myself dream about. I drop my messenger bag to the floor and grab my phone.

I’m deep in a TikTok hole by the time El comes out of the bathroom. She’s wearing a tank-top-and-sleep-shorts PJ set that’s printed with tiny elephants. It’s adorable and she gives me a shy smile as she turns off the bathroom light.

“Ready for bed?” she asks, coming over to the side opposite me. She turns on the bedside lamp and pulls back the covers. She slips under them, bringing with her a wave of heat from the shower.

I put my phone and the necklace from my mom on the bedside table with shaking hands. This is it. I’m officially in bed with El Blum for the first time.

I’m not a virgin—I’ve had sex lots of times, but with exactly two people. First there was Caitlin Walters at summer racing camp last year when we shared a cabin, and after Cait, there was Paul Morris, my boyfriend of a few months last fall. Those times with Cait and Paul were fun, sure, but this feels different. Everything about El feels different. Cait and Paul were casual hookups with lots of flirting. El feels substantial somehow. With her, I know the places where she might break if I don’t hold them carefully. I’ve seen her grief over her sister, and I don’t want to cause her more pain.

But I also desperately want to kiss her.

She turns toward me, propped up on one elbow. “Hey, Jo,” she says.

I turn toward her, and the mattress sinks again, making it so our noses are nearly touching. “Hey, El.”

She scoots a little closer. Our knees touch and I hold absolutely still, trying to control my racing heart.

“Is this okay?” She places one hand on the place where my hips dip into my waist.

“Most incredibly okay,” I breathe.

El scoots even closer, tangling her legs with mine. Her thigh grazes my knee, sending heat through me. “And this?

“Also okay.”

I lean in, planting a featherlight kiss on her lips. She closes her eyes, and the small hungry noise she makes nearly undoes me.

She pulls me to her, so our breasts touch, and that’s it—I’m officially all in. Our kisses deepen, growing more fast and furious with each touch. We’re shoestrings wrapped around each other and everything in this moment is our hands, El’s hair on my cheek, her warm breath, and—

And then she stops kissing me abruptly, pulling away in one quick motion.

“Oh no,” she whispers. She covers her mouth, and her eyes widen in horror.

“What?”

I swear, if El tells me this is a mistake, I’m going to spend the night under a floral towel in the bathtub.

“I’m wearing my retainer.” El groans and pulls the covers up to her face. “I cannot believe I’m kissing the hottest girl I’ve ever met, and I forgot to take out my damn retainer.”