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Spring was beating a temporary retreat as a polar vortex swept over the land, knocking temps down to levels reminiscent of the winter that had ended a mere two months ago. Lumpy masses of sleet split the angular hood of Jo’s SUV that plowed steadily through the unexpected late spring winter-like storm. Jo imagined that if it had been raining, weathermen have used “torrential” to describe it.
She flicked the windshield wipers a notch higher. Movement on the passenger side made her smile.
“You looked so peaceful I didn’t want to wake you.”
Becca rubbed her eyes, waking slowly, shaking off a brain fog. Ok, where am I? Lemme think. I ran into Jo at that charity thing, which shook me, and I had my guard up, but somehow after melting me with that song, and a moving speech about how sorry she was about ending things abruptly three years ago, she’d gotten me to drive up with her to her weekend place up in Duchess County. If Jo had been a guy, I would never have agreed to this, no question. But just because she’s a girl, that doesn’t mean I wasn’t crazy to agree to drive up with her, right?
I dunno what it is that I need to fish out of me that lets Jo transfix me with her smile, flirty eyes, hypnotic voice … that whole “Jo package.” Because this is nuts: I was cool until I was not. And now, I’m on my way to a remote corner of some mountain I’ve never been to with someone who broke my heart three years ago. I can’t even blame this sorcery on her kiss this time, dammit.
Is it co-dependency? Is that what it is? And why does it only come out with Jo?
When they left Manhattan, the city lights were burning brightly. Now, they were somewhere north of the city, in the middle of a snowstorm, and it was freaking pitch black outside.
Becca fumbled for the button that would lift the back of her seat up, brain cells beginning to fire. “I didn’t realize it was still snowing these days. Isn’t spring about to end or something?”
Blowing snow smacked into the windshield, but it whittled down to pretty flakes when it floated past their windows. Not so bad, actually. Driving through airy, swirly, magical flakes so late in spring. Romantic, even.