When We Were Young

XLIX: new americana

We reach Room 12. It's on the side of one of the motel's small buildings, sort of in an alley that leads to a small green lawn and further down is the beach. It's quite secluded compared to the other rooms that have doors facing the parking lot and street, so I feel more at ease.

Gray hands me the keys to unlock the door as he's carrying all our bags.

After a few clumsy tries, I manage to unlock it and reveal a small, but decently clean room where we'll be spending the night.

Upon walking inside, there's a bathroom on the right hand side, facing a full-length mirror and a coat closet. Sure enough on the inside of the room, the infamous queen-sized bed lays in the center with a small television in front of it.

Everything looks old, from the flowery pattern of the bed sheets to the worn-out green armchair. My germaphobe side starts peering out and I have to remind myself that we're only here for a night. Plus, the view of the sun setting over the lake that I can see from the window on one wall of the bedroom slightly makes up for it.

"At least it doesn't smell bad," Gray comments.

He slouches into the armchair and rubs his hands over his face, clearly tired from the driving. I pull out my phone and sit on the edge of the bed, facing him.

I see a message from Tate, wishing me good luck with my parents. If I were actually going home, mom would undoubtedly be extremely nosy and overbearing, so I would need that luck. It's a sweet gesture from her and makes me feel all the more horrible for lying.

Not letting myself dwell on this for too long, I open Google Maps to look for somewhere we can have dinner.

It would be great if we could go to Gray's potential dad's former restaurant tonight, but it's unfortunately not open on Thursday evenings, which is odd. We also read in a review that the manager is there only in the mornings apparently, so we decided that spending a night here is ideal. This way, we'll be able to catch the manager bright and early tomorrow, who is hopefully our best shot of identifying the potential dad.

I come across a quaint fish and chips place about 200 metres from here and I am about to suggest it to Gray, when, out of nowhere, he takes his shirt off, revealing the familiar toned chest and abdomen underneath to me.

"Uh..." I stutter, instead. "What are you doing?"

"I thought you wanted to go for a swim?" He begins unbuckling his jeans.

"Wait you're actually doing it?"

"Yeah, of course. It'll be cold as hell, but I'd never disappoint a lady." He winks at me teasingly to which I roll my eyes.

"Hold on, I'm hungry!" I complain, my voice getting higher. "I want to go swimming, but not on an empty stomach. There's a fish and chips place really close to here, let's go before it gets too dark!"

His pants are off now and he stands in front of me wearing only a red, Hanes brand boxer briefs. "You really should've told me that before I stripped all the way down."

"Excuse you, I was going to say something and then you randomly took your shirt off!"

"Are you saying you were distracted by my body?" Another wink.

I grab his shirt and pants from the bed where he had tossed them and throw them back to him, hard. He jolts backwards a little as he catches his clothing, making me feel satisfied for not having an equal quality comeback to spit at him.

After Gray is redressed we head over to the fish and chips restaurant.

There, we sit on the patio, both enthralled by the sun disappearing into the lake as we wait for our food. I hardly ever have the time to just admire nature. The scenery when gray and I went canoeing was gorgeous, but never have I ever seen something so beautiful. Clearly, this small town has a lot of tricks up its sleeve.

From my left side, I hear loud laughter. Instinctively, my eyes follow the sound to see a couple, holding hands. The tall, dark-haired man is being lightly pushed against the side wall of the restaurant by a shorter, redhead as their faces approach each other. By their loud talking, they don't see us sitting on the patio.

"Hi husband," the redhead man says teasingly to his spouse. He presses a gentle kiss to his lips that turns more fiery with each second. I turn away and look at Gray with a faint flush on my cheeks.

"I can't believe we just did that." The brunette pulls away, cupping the face of his husband.

"Any regrets?"

"None at all," he assures him. "My parents, on the other hand..."

The redhead steps back, almost as if he was thrusted back into reality. A hand runs through his curly hair as he exhales loudly. "It's better this way. You know how they would react if we told them that we were getting married. Your parents are practically still hoping that you're not gay."

"Let's not let them ruin this day for us," the brunette declares adamantly, retaking his partner's hands and pulling them together once more. "I want to take you to the hotel and--"

Gray clears his throat before they can continue. The couple spots us and immediately look embarrassed.

"Oh my God, sorry!" The brunette smiles sheepishly.

"Don't worry about it." Gray gives him a dimpled smile. "Congratulations."

"Congratulations," I repeat.

They thank us and wander off, probably to go to their hotel and do whatever the brunette was suggesting.

A forbidden wedding... not that mom and dad were in a similar situation as they seemed to be, but my parents do have their own version of being star-crossed lovers.

I harbor so much resentment for my mother's pushiness. Never do I let myself just think about the crap that she's had to go through that makes her value this career path for her daughter. It's like a shut door in my mind and only after seeing that couple, does it finally creep open.