Sentimental Chances

Chapter 44: I Forgot To Put Gas

The heavy rain finally let up, and that was our cue to go. One by one, the other vendors started packing their stuff, the band unplugged their amps and disappeared, and the whole place felt emptier by the second.

Which, of course, also meant it was time to say good-bye. And honestly? It was brutal. I could feel how sad my friends were, like the whole mood had shifted from noisy and bright to heavy and quiet.

We ended up gathering in the parking lot, all of us stalling, stretching out these last few minutes while they said their farewells to Roy and tried not to cry.

Emmy hugged him like she could keep him there just by holding on tight enough. "I hope you come back soon," she said, her voice cracking a little. Tears slid down her cheeks before she could stop them, and she swiped at them quickly as she pulled away.

"Don't worry, I will," Roy said, looking at her—and at all of us—like he really meant it.

After that, they all went up to him one by one, said their goodbyes, and hugged him.

Then it was our turn to go.

I climbed onto my Vespa, and he slid on behind me like it was the most natural thing in the world. We pulled out of the parking lot and headed back to the inn.

On the way, the sky was doing that weird in-between thing—soft rumbles of thunder in the distance, lightning flickering behind the clouds like someone was switching a light on and off. I kept praying it wouldn't start raining on us again.

But apparently, the weather wasn't my biggest problem.

"Oh, no," I grunted.

"What's wrong?" Roy asked.

We were about halfway to the inn when I felt it—the scooter starting to slow down, like it was running out of breath right underneath us. Apparently, the gas meter was low and going on empty. 

That's right, I forgot to put gas.

I think we were both kind of relieved when the Vespa finally gave up.

"I think we're going to have to walk," I told him, cringing as I eased us over to the side of the road.

"Alright," he replied, like this was no big deal at all.

We climbed off the Vespa, the engine going quiet in that awkward, guilty way, and started walking. The air still smelled like rain, and the road was slick under our shoes.

"Sorry, I completely forgot to fill up the gas on this thing," I sighed, pushing the scooter along beside me. "It's so unlike me to forget something like that."

"Don't worry about it. Stuff like that happens to me more than five times," he said with a little laugh. "Here, let me push that for you."

Before I could argue, Roy's hands were already on the handles of my scooter, and I was just... walking next to him. It felt weirdly intimate, like we were sharing some tiny, stupid disaster. Just us and this empty road.

"Besides, it's about... ten minutes away to the inn," he added.

"Yeah..." I murmured. Ten minutes suddenly felt both too short and way too long.

We kept going, our footsteps echoing softly. Cars rushed past now and then, but it felt like we were in our own little bubble. Roy glanced over the highway railing, and I followed his gaze.

Below us, the small city glowed against the side of the hill—clusters of lights, winding streets, everything washed in that hazy post-rain shimmer.

"Also, I don't mind walking knowing you have that view over there," he said, and I couldn't tell if he meant the city or... something else.