There's something about an interstate highway that nearly wipes out my memories of before. Each ticking mile marker brings me further away from the person I was at the start, and I haven't even been away from home for that long at all.

As I lean back in my seat, soaking in the rays of the brazen golden orb that is the California sun, a strand of hair falls across my face. Dave reaches out, brushing it back gently, his touch sending a shiver down my spine.

"So, Lewis? How are we feeling? It's Tuesday morning, and we're about to enter L.A. Four nights, like I promised."

Los Angeles, the City of Angels, looms large in the distance, a hazy mirage shimmering in the late morning heat. My stomach lurches – a cocktail of nerves and weird excitement bubbling within.

"Hey, you okay?"

I look to my left. Dave's watching me intently. His eyes, usually guarded pools of whisky brown, hold a softness I rarely saw before.

"Yeah," I stammer. "Just a little... tense."

Dave's right arm rests casually on the top of my seat. "L.A. getting to you already?"

"More like the fact that this whole trip is ending. It's all over so soon. I'm about to see my Dad. We just need to drive to South Western Avenue where his newspaper office is and..."

It's done.

And I mean it. The last five days whirled by me like a cassette in a Walkman set on fast forward.

The past twenty-four hours from Lawson to L.A. flew by in a blur of highway miles, shared gas station snacks, and comfortable silences that somehow felt more meaningful than words.

"Ending, huh?" Dave pauses for a beat. "Maybe we can make it last a little longer."

What does he mean by that?

"We could take a celebratory swim at Long Beach, now that we're here? Before... before we go our separate ways."

Of course, that's what he means. Just a swim, and then a friendly farewell... right?

"Yeah." I force a smile, not wanting to read more into what happened between us. "A swim sounds perfect. Sticky from a road trip and all." It's not entirely a lie. It's almost midday and the sun has turned the blue Pontiac into a rolling sauna.

But the truth is: I crave more time with Dave.

We lapse into silence as the majestic sprawl of Long Beach comes into view. The iconic Queen Mary looms on the horizon, and I can't believe I'm finally seeing it live.

This is James Dean's California —wild, sweaty, important, the land of lonely and exiled and eccentric lovers. The land where everybody somehow looks like broken-down, handsome, decadent movie actors.

Having parked the car, we grab our towels and sunscreen, a comfortable silence settling between us. Reaching the crest of the dunes, I take a deep breath of salty air, the rhythmic crash of the waves a soothing melody. Below, the vast expanse of the Pacific Ocean shimmers under the midday sun, beckoning us in.

Dave glances at me, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Ready to jump in?"

"Absolutely." My playful smile mirrors his.

The prospect of cool water washing away the road trip grime – and maybe some of the lingering tension – holds a delicious appeal.

We shed our shoes and socks, the warm sand squishing between our toes. With a whoop, Dave removes his jeans and his t-shirt, and races towards the water only in his undies, the retreating tide snapping at his heels. I follow suit, but leave the t-shirt on, as the cool water envelops me in a refreshing embrace.

Looking around, I spot Dave splashing playfully in the shallows. His carefree little-boy-like joy is oh so infectious.

A smile blooms on my face, wider this time, fueled by a warmth that has nothing to do with the California sun.

God, I'm so happy. Finally here, where I wanted to be. And did it all by myself. I wish mom could see me now. She's always so controlling, so restrictive, so doubting my abilities.

I made it.

I reached my goal, my destination and look at me now: swimming at Long Beach, of all places.

Barefooted and wild-haired, I run through the shallow water towards Dave without a care in the world — that's the way to live.

All alone and free.

Well, not entirely alone.

In a blur of movements, Dave throws his head back and lets out a roar of laughter, charging toward me with a yell.

"Attack!"

Before I can react, he scoops up a handful of water and launches a playful assault, drenching my face and hair. I sputter and blink, momentarily blinded by the salty spray.

But the surprise quickly dissolves into laughter.

"Oh, no, you didn't!" I retaliate, cupping my hands and sending a wave of my own crashing over his head. He splutters dramatically, shaking his head like a wet dog.

Just when I think I defeated him, David Rivera lunges at me again, this time wrapping his arms around me and pulling me under the surface. The world goes silent, muffled by the water pressure in my ears. For a disorienting moment, I panic a little bit, flailing my arms until I break free, bursting back into the sunlight gasping for air.

Dave surfaces beside me, his messy hair plastered to his forehead, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Got you!" he shouts, a wide grin splitting his face.

I can't help but return the grin, a warmth spreading through my chest. He is so childlike and silly to the point it's contagious. I just want to be spontaneous and carefree like he is —enjoy the moment next to him.

As we stand in the shallows, he takes my hand and that warm touch sends a jolt through me. He squeezes it gently, his eyes holding mine.

The salty spray clings to my skin, but I actually don't mind it at all. It's quite a refreshing contrast to the midday sun.

Laughter bubbles up from deep within my throat and I totally can't help but giggle again, as Dave charges towards me, his arms outstretched, ready for another playful attack.

"You're not gonna get me the second time, too! No way. And with the same old trick? That would've been too much!" I shriek in mock terror, darting away, the sand between my toes cushioning my steps.

Whew. Disaster averted.

"Okay, okay, enough!" he pants, feigning exhaustion, but apparently giving up. "I think I've tortured you enough with this water warfare." A mischievous glint dances in his eyes. "Time for a truce?"

I nod, breathless, exhilarated. "Truce," I agree, wiping the seawater from my face.

"But on one condition."

"Oh, Sir David Rivera has a condition. Let's hear it, then. Name it," I reply, a playful challenge in my voice.

"A picnic," he declares with a conspiratorial smile spreading across his lips.

"A picnic? You're serious?"

"Very," he confirms, licking his lips, probably already imagining the spread. "I've been planning this since we left Las Vegas."

With a triumphant grin, he reaches into the back of his beach bag and pulls out a woven picnic basket. My heart skips a beat. "You planned this too?" I ask, disbelief coloring my voice.

First Red Rock Canyon, and now a picnic. Sheesh. He really knows how to impress a lady. 

"Well, a guy's gotta have a backup plan for when the water torture gets old," he replies, winking at me.

"No, Dave, come on. Be serious for once. Why?"

My question hangs in the air. I really want to understand all the thought and effort he's put into this perfect moment.

Many perfect moments that transpired after the Denver concert, actually. 

Dave takes a while to respond, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "Um, I guess, dunno," he begins. "I guess... I just wanted to celebrate. In a ... 'We made it' kind of way?? After all the drama we went through, this whole... uncertainty about getting here... it felt like a small victory arriving in Los Angeles."

A wave of warmth washes over me. His honesty, his vulnerability, it makes him even more endearing. "Oh? So, doubting Thomas, you actually thought we wouldn't make it?" I ask, teasing him lightly.

A sheepish grin spreads across Dave's face. "There were times, yeah. Times when I wondered if we'd end up stranded somewhere with an empty gas tank, empty wallets, and absolutely no frigging clue where to go next."

I laugh out loud, the sound echoing across the near-empty beach. "Well, here we are," I say, gesturing to the spread before us. "Proof that we can overcome anything."

His eyes meet mine, a silent acknowledgment of our shared triumph. In that moment, as the sun begins its ascent, casting long shadows across the sand, I feel a sense of gratitude and love that is almost overwhelming.

To me, this is more than just a picnic, it's a celebration of our resilience, our friendship, and the unexpected journey that has brought us here.

Dave leans back, a contented sigh escaping his lips. "Hey Lewis. Remember that diner we ran out of? The one with the questionable coffee but surprisingly decent burgers?" A repentant chuckle escapes him. "Or that motel room in the middle of nowhere, with the creaky bed that sounded like a haunted house?"

A wave of nostalgia washes over me as I recall those early days of our adventure. The diner, the motel, the Harmony Moonbeam aka Wanda incident – each memory is a piece of the puzzle that has shaped our journey.

There was the hospital visit, the unexpected kindness towards the lost child and his mom close to Las Vegas – a tapestry of experiences, both ordinary and extraordinary, woven together to create a unique story.

The story of our road trip.

"It's kind of crazy when you think about it," I say, shaking my head in disbelief. "We've been through so much."

Dave nods in agreement. "And here we are, sitting on a beach, enjoying a picnic. It's like something out of a movie."

I can't help but smile. "A really messy, chaotic movie, but a movie nonetheless."

He raises his glass of soda in a toast. "To us, and to all the adventures yet to come."

"To us." My cheeks burn red hot as my feet sink into the soft sand, the cool grains cushioning my body.

Dave spreads a checkered blanket on the sand, the colors vibrant against the backdrop of the ocean. He uncovers the picnic basket, revealing a tantalizing array of treats: crusty bread sandwiches filled with a colorful assortment of sliced meats and cheeses, another chilled bottle of soda, and a bowl of fresh, juicy grapes.

"You planned all of this?" This is more than just a picnic; it's a carefully curated experience.

"Of course. A man's gotta know how to impress a lady."

Just as I thought. 

I roll my eyes playfully, but secretly, my heart swells with warmth. I'm so glad he did this for me. 

Actually, if I had to think about it, no one has ever done anything like this for me before. This is the kind of attention to detail that makes David Rivera so special.

As I reach for a sandwich, my gaze drifts back to him, his face lit by the golden hues of the rising sun. At this moment,with the sound of waves crashing against the shore and the salty breeze caressing my skin, I feel a sense of peace and contentment that is almost overwhelming.

I bite into the delicious meal. "Mmm, oh my god, nothing has tasted so good on this road trip like this ham sandwich."

"It's the taste of triumph, Lewis." He smirks. "The taste of triumph. Better get used to it, because there's more where that came from. Oh, um... You've got a little something on your..."

My heart skips a beat as David's fingers gently brush away the errant piece of ham clinging to the corner of my lip. His touch is feather-light, yet it sends a shiver of anticipation down my spine.

As his fingers graze my skin, I catch a glimpse of his gaze, lingering on my lips for a fleeting moment. A blush creeps up my cheeks as I meet his eyes.

I can't think of anything to say but the lame "thanks."

Argh, April. 

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Dave smiles, and he then offers me a grape.

The plump, juicy fruit glistens in the sunlight. I take it from him, our fingers brushing against each other.

As I pop the grape into my mouth, I savor the sweetness, but it's the warmth of his touch that lingers on my lips that sends my heart into a wild mustang galloping beat.

When I finish the last gulp of my soda, I sigh contentedly, sprawled on the sand. "I wish everyday could be like this, I swear. Just lazing on the beach doing nothing. Or: traveling, eating new foods, meeting new people all day every day long."

"Yeah." Dave muses. "Sounds a lot more fun than growing old and being tossed into a cubicle for a nine to five job routine of a hamster in a wheel."

"I agree." I sigh. "What I hate about that is... That every day is kind of the same, you know. That's why I want each day in my life to be different. Time is more important than money."

"My dad used to say: money is a renewable resource – time isn't," says Dave.

"I said it before, and I'll say it again. I'm not the only one around with a mega wise dad."

"So how are we going to remember this special day?" He asks me absently, sand slipping through his fingers.

I stare at his elegant hand and I have a spontaneous revelation. "I know it! We'll build a sandcastle."

"Grand. Let's get to it!" Dave enthusiastically accepts my idea almost immediately.

He takes charge, outlining a grand design in the sand with a stick. It's actually quite a complex structure — complete with towers, a moat, and there's even a drawbridge.

"Now this... will be our fortress," he declares, his voice filled with a childlike enthusiasm. "A monument to our epic road trip."

I can't help but laugh at his over-the-top ambition. "A fortress, huh? Looks more like a flimsy sand structure to me."

He feigns offense, but the mischievous twinkle in his whisky-brown eyes betrays his amusement. "Hey! A fortress is a fortress, no matter the size," he insists.

We spend the next hour immersed in our task, our hands working in tandem as we shape the sand into towers and walls.

When it's finally done, we stand back to admire our work.

"Mmm.. It's kind of wishy-washy," Dave admits.

"I like it a lot." I swallow.

Our sandcastle, though far from perfect, is a testament to our shared effort.

It's something only ours, something that belongs only to April Lewis and David Rivera.

A symbol of our journey, a reminder of the challenges we've overcome and the triumphs we've celebrated. 

"April." Dave says my name for the very first time, his voice low and serious. "Listen. The Van Halen concert kiss... it wasn't just a one-time thing for me."

My breath hitches. This is it. The unspoken question hanging in the air since Lawson.

"For me neither," I blurt out the three barely audible words.

When David Rivera leans forth, my heart pounds a frantic rhythm against my ribs.

I gasp into his lips like gasping for air. Smile blooms from somewhere deep inside me and I shiver in earnest, melting into his hug, feeling all the walls I've ever built tumbling down.

"Dave." I say his name over and over, my hand caressing his nape, drowning in him.

No one has ever felt my body like this, so close up and personal, but for whatever reason, Dave pressing himself against my torso feels so good. Yeah. More than good.

I am coming out of my own shell and reaching for another human being, someone other than my parents, and it's absolutely frightening and new and all kinds of beautiful.

Dad did say that falling in love would be scary. It would require me to be brave and just jump in. Give myself away to the feeling. His words echo in my head:

We step onto the sand, holding hands, and Dave shuffles carefully to sit beside me. His thigh almost touches mine, and I revel in that feeling. His hair is wet, pieces of brown strands sticking to his forehead, and the black t-shirt he just pulled on is plastered to his skin, the outline of his chest distracting the hell out of me.

How is that Dave Rivera of all people came into my life just five days ago and has already made a significant difference?

He clears his throat, squeezing my fingers as he focuses his faze on the horizon.

"At the concert, I... enjoyed seeing that side of you."

"What side?"

"Happy, carefree April. I knew she was in there somewhere." Before I realize what's going on, his head is in my lap, and my treacherous fingers are already caressing his hair.

"I see you're making yourself comfortable," I tease.

"Is it a crime?" He rolls his eyes, reaching upwards to tenderly flick me on the cheek.

"So, you're saying you like the happy, carefree April more than the nerdy one?"

David Rivera smiles at me, but it's not his usual, genuine smile. This one is teasing, laced with nothing but temptation. "I like them both."

He captures one of my fingers, kissing it with tenderness and then sucking on it seductively. The feel of his tongue is pure and utter bliss.

Then he turns onto his side. When he speaks again, I mimic his movement so that our faces are aligned.

"Will you stay here now, with your dad? For how long?"

"I suppose so. At least till September, I think. I was kind of hoping to be admitted to California Institute of Arts, so I can stay in L.A. But if I don't get in, then I'll just go wherever I was accepted."

"Makes sense." He swallows, and our foreheads touch for a lingering moment before he starts landing little kisses across every possible section of my face.

I love the feeling of his soft mouth. I love how the wetness lingers even after he moves away, like his lips cover every part of me. I'm in bliss. I'm in pure and utter bliss.

"You're so beautiful, April," he mumbles and the sound of his voice is different. There is roughness to it and I see his chest rising and falling rapidly when he brings his eyes to mine. His irises have grown a darker brown, so intoxicating that I keep reminding myself to say something.

Say anything.

I reach out to cup his adorable, slightly overgrown ears with my one hand, while the other caresses his cheek. "But we can stay in touch, Dave."

"I'd love that very much." He leans into my caress.

"You could come visit me."

"Or... hear me out: I could come and live here."

I chuckle. "Here? In L.A.? What would you do?" 

"Well, a guy can get a job in any USA city. NY, L.A... You name it. There are millions of jobs out there, but there is only one April Lewis. And ... if I saved enough money over time, I'd open a pancake joint."

"As if L.A. needs another pancake joint! Something else. I know! A steakhouse," I tease.

"Deal. Works for me." Dave leans closer and lands a final playful kiss on my nose, before glancing at his wristwatch. "Now, ready to give your Dad a surprise?"