Kiss Off

Chapter 26

The seconds tick into minutes, and minutes into hours before Bryson and I both heave a sigh at the same time and glance at each other. Humor dances across our faces as the setting sun blinds us through the windshield. I chuckle and he mimics my laughter.

"This isn't going to work, is it?" he asks, not needing a response.

We've been driving through old, gravel country roads for nearly two hours now and the sun is slowly sliding beneath the covers of the horizon, ready to retire for the evening. It's dinnertime now and my stomach is screaming for me to fill the emptiness—even though we'd both grabbed milkshakes from the drive-thru prior to our miniature roadtrip. Thankfully, Bryson chose to drive in more of a circle around our town rather than away from it, so it won't take nearly as long to get back.

"Maybe we should start heading home," I suggest. "We could stop for something to eat when we reach Mattoon."

"Okay." He nods to himself and slowly pulls to the side of the road, getting as close to the ditch as possible so he can turn us around. He has to reverse only once in order to do a complete 180 in the middle of the narrow road, and then we're on our way back.

We don't talk much during the drive. It seems we're both stuck in our own heads and enjoying the quiet. We finally reach Mattoon and once we've got paper bags loaded up with burgers and fries, we start toward home. It's only then that an idea sparks to life.

"I know where to go!" I almost shout my realization and cup my hands around my mouth when I realize how unnecessarily loud I was. "Remember that old railroad bridge that collapsed a couple of years back?"

Bryson's brows dip but he nods.

"I never saw it," I explain, "but some people from school mentioned that half of it is still standing. I mean, maybe it's not the coolest adventure in the world, but it might be kind of neat to check it out."

"Right. As long as the rest of it remains standing." Bryson smirks. Then he pops a handful of fries into his mouth and mumbles, "where to?"

———

The bridge is less than not impressive. It's actually a huge let down. I'd hoped that we'd be arriving on the side where the bridge remained so we could walk out to the end of it and watch the water flow passed. That's not the case because the only section left standing is the very middle of the bridge. Both ends—the ends that should be connecting the bridge to land—have crumbled and are now nothing more than piles of rubble for the waters to glide over.

"Well, crap," Bryson mutters, dropping his arms to his sides, the bag of food dangling from his fingers.

"Double crap." I tilt my head back and let out a frustrated sigh.

"No."

I glance toward Bryson and give him a questioning lift of my brow.

"No," he repeats. "We're not ending our night like this. We're going to make this work. Here." He hands me the bag of food and returns to his truck, which he parked behind the trees several yards back.

I take this moment to call my mom and let her know where I'm at and that I probably won't be home for some time. Of course, she's ecstatic for me and tells me she'll need every single detail later. Then, feeling the need to add in some motherly advice, she gives me a curfew and orders me to be safe and smart. Honestly, my mother is so blessed to have a daughter who stinks at lying. It keeps me out of so much trouble.

When Bryson's headlights flicker through the trees, I realize his truck is drawing closer. Stepping off the path—that was once a road—to make room for him to pass, I watch him maneuver his vehicle into a narrow space between two trees and then proceed to back the rest of his way to the edge of the water.