Page 80 of Chasing Stardust

I barely find my footing before his mouth closes over mine and he’s kissing me senseless. This time when my lungs scream for mercy, I don’t complain. I’d gladly drown in his kisses. At least I’d die happy.

22

Teenage Wildlife

With a deep sigh, I glance at the map on the Tesla’s display. “How far to Detroit?”

“Detroit?” He frowns at the display as if seeing a completely different map than I do. “What about Chicago?”

I double-check Mom’s diary, flipping through the pages and back again. “They went from Boston to Detroit . . . then Chicago.”

“Chicago’s supposed to be the next stop.” He rolls his eyes at my blank stare. “The original tour? That is what we’re supposed to be following, right?”

I cock an eyebrow. “I’m not even going to ask how you know that . . .”

Dash shifts his gaze to the road, his cheeks turning pink.

“Maybe they decided to be more efficient and hit Detroit first, since it’s on the way.”

“Detroit it is.” Dash changes our route without complaint. “We’ll have to find somewhere to stop for the night.”

“Somewhere with a hot shower, please. I’m gross.” I comb my fingers through my tangled hair and catch a whiff of my skin. “I still smell like the lake.”

Dash leans over and buries his face in my hair. “I think you smell good. Like the woods.”

“Like Sasquatch, you mean?”

“No.” His lips twitch. “Like summer camp. You’re making me crave bonfires and s’mores.”

“I haven’t been camping since cheer camp, the summer before senior year.” I release a heavy sigh. It was the last time my life was semi normal. When I still believed Mom’s cancer was beatable, and I could breathe without my chest cracking.

Dash’s eyes twinkle. “Does cheer camp actually count as camping?”

“Not at all.” I laugh, remembering the dorm-like space with twin-size beds and indoor plumbing.

“Didn’t think so. It doesn’t count unless you’re sleeping in a tent under the stars.”

“G-Lo said she and Mom went camping on their trip, but I haven’t gotten that far yet. Maybe we could . . .” I let the thought trail off, remembering what G-Lo said about dragging Dash into a tent.

“Could what?”

“Figure out where they went and camp there?”

His eyes light up. “You’d do that?”

“We could totally rough it for one night, right?” So much for my hot shower.

“Hell yeah! Let’s go camping!”

“You have a tent?” I gape at Dash’s smug profile as he focuses on the road ahead.

“Not just any tent. A Big Agnes.” The blazing midday sun has darkened his transition lenses to almost black, making it impossible to see the sparkle in his eyes when he glances my way, but I can tell from his tone, it’s there. “And one of their arctic-rated sleeping bags.”

I whip my head toward the back seat, but he obviously didn’t stash it in there. “Where are you hiding all that?”

“It’s all part of my secret serial killer kit,” he quips.

I glare at him, and he laughs. If he looked any more pleased with himself, I’d slap him with his platinum card.