We leave on a road trip in your ’67 Camaro, laughing at the horrible gas mileage that the Yellow Tank gets. Scraping quarters together from under the sun worn leather seats to pay for gas. I laugh at the joke you tell and my sunglasses slide down the bridge of my nose.
4 pounds of gummy bears sit in between us as we continue to cruise through the canyons of Arizona. The warm air surrounding us in this bubble of you and I.
I peek over at you in the drivers seat from behind my frames. I always seem to be taken back by your good looks, the strong jaw with just a hint of stubble, perfect lips, the list is endless. You catch me gawking at you and just smile, grab my leg and slide me next to you and my body molds to yours.
This road trip was meant for us. We said to our friends that we were going to find the secrets to the world. They didn’t believe us though. They just don’t understand.