The Road Trip

• Six •

Two hours later we were checked into our hotel and en route on foot to Cloud Gate. My only two stipulations for Chicago were a stereotypical Instagrammy photo at The Bean that would never end up on the internet and deep dish pizza.

Twenty minutes into our walk, and I was starting to resemble a turtle.

"We're almost there," Luke said, turning around and walking backwards.

"Don't mock me," I huffed. "I should invent an adult stroller."

"So like... a wheelchair?"

"No, I'm not trying to pretend like I have a disability. I'm okay with the world knowing I'm lazy."

Luke unsubtly looked my body up and down. "I assume you don't sit on your ass. What do you do?"

"Pilates and yoga. The anti-cardio."

"What is Pilates exactly? A chick work out?"

"It's hard!" I protested.

"I didn't say it didn't work." Luke blinked with heavy eyelids. "Are there any guys in your classes?"

The thought of Luke on a Pilates reformer made me smile. "No, but that's because y'all have to use one hundred pound weights and grunt when you drop them. I much prefer to be in a class with all women."

"That's sexist," Luke joked as we approached the street corner.

I reached out and grabbed his arm before he tripped over the curb. "Watch out! Walk normal, Crazy."

"You were distracting me."

Luke turned around and looked both ways before we crossed the street and winded our way through the park to see the sculpture. We walked around it. We walked under it. We took the same picture everyone else around us was taking, together and separate, of our reflection in the stainless steel.

On the far side, where one curve came down to the ground, I sat on the concrete and lay back to look up. Luke watched me with his hands in his pockets as I took a few pictures with my feet up on the sculpture before lying down next to me. He smiled, placed his phone on his stomach, and put his feet up when I held up my phone to take a picture together.

"It's made of the same thing you're made out of," Luke commented, tapping his feet against the smooth steel surface. "You could be The Bean."

I turned my head completely to the left to look at him. He did the same to his right. Instead of being mad, I smiled. Probably too big, but this moment I was having with something I'd seen so many times—but never in person—made me happy, and I wasn't going to deny that his comment made me laugh.

Luke's face lit up. That Luke shine was almost blinding, especially around metal. "You're happy."

I started to open my mouth to say something snarky, but Luke cut me off.

"Don't deny it. You just smiled for real."

"Whatever, Luke."

"I liked it."

"I've wanted to see this thing for forever. It has nothing to do with you."

"I know that, Bean," Luke laughed, but his eyes weren't responding to the emotion. "But God forbid you look happy in front of me. I'm sorry I brought it up then."

Luke seemed to throw around 'I'm sorries' easily except for the only one that should actually matter, but I didn't want to let him ruin this for me.

"Come on. Pizza two nights in a row," I said, standing and managing a smile. "And two different pizza places in one night. I'll have to work it off in Pilates."