Page 56 of The Love Bus

FOUR CORNERS

I blinked awake, something solid and steady beneath my cheek.

I’d fallen asleep on Noah’s shoulder.

The bus jolted again, and I realized we must be pulling into the parking lot at Four Corners. I sat up a little too quickly, my face flushing as Noah glanced over, and then our eyes locked.

And whoa.

His gaze dipped for half a second—enough to make my breath hitch—and then he licked his lips, like his mouth had gone dry.

Heat rushed up my neck, and when his hand stroked the top of my leg, I had to squeeze my thighs together.

Was it wise to keep quiet about the fact that we were…sort of a thing?

Was it even possible?

It had to be.

People had already been speculating, but if we confirmed any of it now, they’d all be impossible—Babs with her not-so-subtle winks, Tay with her knowing smiles, and God help me, Mrs. Grady with whatever her version of disapproval would look like.

The truth was, I wasn’t ready for that.

And honestly, there was something thrilling about the secrecy. It made my pulse skip.

If Tay hadn’t started talking just then—her voice crackling through the bus mic like a splash of cold water—I wasn’t entirely sure I wouldn’t have reached for his hand.

Wouldn’t have guided it just a little higher.

Wouldn’t have let my knees fall open…

But Tay did speak.

“Okay, my beautiful Love Bus riders, you have forty-five minutes to stretch out, grab a cup of coffee and some souvenirs, and exist in four states at once. Don’t forget to tag WonderWorldTours in your photos, but please, before using the restroom, triple check to make sure you aren’t still recording a live video. Looking at you, Patty.”

“How did I miss that one?” I asked Noah, trying to sound normal.

He just gave me a knowing look and then shrugged.

And because we were all alert now, moved his hand away.

“It was only for a second!” Patty called out, and from behind, I could see her neck turning red. It looked like Josie, the queen of accidental posts, had been dethroned.

“Which was most unfortunate,” one of the seniors from the back of the bus—I was pretty sure it was Don?—called up.

Maybe it was a good thing I’d missed that whole debacle.

Noah squeezed my hand—but only for a second, just a quick press of warmth—before everyone started filing off the bus like a row of mismatched ducklings, in their sunhats and orthopedic sneakers.

I stepped down and into a dry and desolate scene. Rust-colored buttes interrupted the otherwise flat horizon, the sky a ridiculously saturated blue, and air so devoid of moisture it practically crunched with every breath I took.

I tugged at the hem of my tank top—simple white cotton, maybe a little too clingy for how hyper-aware I was of Noah beside me—and smoothed out my shorts.

My super-cool river sandals were already gathering dust, and the ponytail I’d tied my hair into this morning was hanging on for dear life.

It was the first day of June—pretty sure—and it definitely felt like summer now.

Before I could wander toward the monument with the rest of the group, Noah gently caught my wrist.

“Not so fast,” he murmured. “Come here.”

And before I could ask where here was, he tugged me around to the back of the bus, out of sight of the group, where the sun warmed the metal siding and a breeze kicked up little swirls of dust.

“Noah—”

“I know,” he said, stepping in close. He looked down at me, eyes squinting in the sunlight. “But I miss you already.”

And then he kissed me. Not the careful, tentative kind.

No, this kiss literally knocked the breath out of me, and then it made me forget where I was. And it felt like he didn’t just want to kiss me, he needed to.

I didn’t stop him.

I mean, why would I?

Until—

“Before I show you the spot where four states converge—have a look at our brand-new bus…”

Josie’s voice rang out from somewhere nearby, unmistakably cheery and absolutely being broadcast to the entirety of Facebook.

We froze, then immediately sprang apart like teenagers caught behind the bleachers.

No sign of her, but still. If we were going to keep this thing a secret, we were going to have to be more careful. Way more careful.

Noah ran a hand through his hair, still breathless. His eyes were a little hooded, lips still soft. “God, I’m sorry.”

I reached out and smoothed a wrinkle from the front of his shirt without thinking.

“I think we’re safe,” I said, then added, “Unless she zoomed in. And I’m not sure she knows how to do that.”

“If it’s by accident, she could do practically anything.”

“True.”

I just stood there, grinning like an idiot.

“I’m not really sorry.” Was he smirking?

He was definitely smirking, so I smirked right back at him.

“Trust me, you have nothing to apologize for.”

Then, together, we walked out from behind the bus like nothing had happened—like I hadn’t just been kissed senseless by this man who was only supposed to be my friend.

* * *

The monument itself was underwhelming at best—just a flat bronze disk set into concrete, surrounded by fluttering state flags and a half-circle of booths selling turquoise jewelry, fry bread, and T-shirts that said, I stood in four states and all I got was this this stupid shirt.

But the group? Completely delighted.

“I’m in Utah!” Denise shouted. “Now I’m in New Mexico!”

“What does it mean if my foot’s in Arizona but my butt’s in Colorado?” Babs, of course.

Buzzing in the afterglow of Noah’s kiss, I handed him my phone and joined the melee.

I was halfway through posing like a human starfish—hands and feet pointed toward four different state lines—when Babs clapped her hands and called out, “Oh, oh! Noah! Get in there with her!”

She turned to Mrs. Grady, stage-whispering like it was a secret only the entire plaza could hear. “Don’t they make the most adorable couple?”

Mrs. Grady’s smile faltered—just the briefest flicker—but it was enough to make my heart skip.

I glanced at Noah, unsure whether I should step back, pretend we hadn’t heard.

But he just grinned.

Easy. Confident. Not a big deal.

He handed my phone off to someone nearby and slipped an arm around my waist like it was the most natural thing in the world.

That was how we ended up posed like we were mid-dance, one foot each in a different state.

“Say ‘Four Corners!’” Babs yelled.

And then?—

Noah dipped me.

It happened so fast I didn’t have time to overthink it. One second, I was upright, grinning at the camera. The next, I was tilted back in his arms, the desert wind catching my hair, my foot lifting off the ground like I was the heroine in a romantic musical.

There was a single, weightless moment where my stomach fluttered and I felt myself fall backward, utterly off balance.

I’d never quite trusted Leo to do this.

He would’ve dropped me or made a joke if I hesitated.

Maybe, later, I’d have to consider why this was so different. Because, with Noah, I didn’t even hesitate.

I just let go.

And any thoughts of Leo evaporated.

Because Noah was staring down at me like I was something greater than myself, something wonderful and inspiring. Like there was nothing else to look at. Nothing else he wanted to look at.

The smile tugging at his mouth made me want to pull him down and kiss him until we missed the next five stops on the itinerary.

Later, I wouldn’t remember the photo being taken.

I would just remember him.

And for the remainder of the stop, we were careful, but not…too careful.

A brush of hands when passing my water bottle. His fingers grazing the small of my back as we wandered through the vendor stalls.

That look he gave me when I asked a Navajo artisan if I could try on one of the handmade necklaces—and then, quiet, under his breath: “Looks good on you.”

By the time we were piling back on the bus, a few people in our group might have been watching me curiously. And then Tay shot me a questioning look in the rearview mirror. I answered with a shake of my head. She responded with a wink.

But Noah just stretched out in his seat beside me, one leg pressed lightly against mine, the other in the aisle, and said nothing.

Which somehow made me want to kiss him again even more.