Chapter 16: Roadside Service
The world outside the car window was a smear of neon and twilight, but inside the SUV, everything was reduced to sensation. The gentle vibration of the engine. The soft, expensive leather under Andi’s knees. The sharp, clean scent of Matt’s cologne mixed with the faint, metallic tang of the half-empty vodka bottle rolling near her feet.
She’d been tracing circles on his thigh, her head resting on his shoulder, when a reckless, giddy impulse took hold. Without a word, she slid down, her body folding into the footwell, and pressed her face against the rough denim of his jeans.
“Andi,” he breathed, a warning and a plea woven together. His hand came down to her hair, not stopping her, just resting there.
She looked up, the city lights painting fleeting stripes of gold across her face. “You said I carry you with me,” she whispered, her fingers working his belt buckle, then the button of his jeans. “Now you’ll carry me.”
The zipper’s rasp was loud in the quiet cabin. She freed him, the hard, warm weight of him filling her hand. He groaned, his head falling back against the headrest as she leaned in, her breath a ghost against his skin before she took him into her mouth.
She was slow, deliberate, savoring the way his body tightened, the way his fingers curled into a fist against the leather seat. She used her tongue, her lips, the flat of her palm, building a rhythm that was both tender and demanding. The SUV hummed around them, a metal shell hurtling through the celebrating city, a perfect disguise for the sin happening in its backseat.
He was muttering, a stream of choked, fragmented praise. “God… your mouth… Andi, yes.”
She could feel the tension coiling in his abdomen, the telltale jerk of his hips that meant he was close. She took him deeper, swallowing around him, and he cried out, a raw, unfiltered sound.
It was then that the GPS on his phone blared to life, cutting through the haze. “In five hundred feet, your destination will be on the right.”
His eyes flew open. He swore, fumbling for the wheel, his body torn between the climax she was pulling from him and the need to not crash into a restaurant full of their families.
“Baby, please—!” he moaned, the words strangled, his foot instinctively lifting from the accelerator.
She released him with a soft, wet pop, sitting up just as he guided the car with a jerky motion into a valet lane. The sudden brightness of the restaurant’s entrance lights was a brutal shock. He hastily tucked himself back into his jeans, his hands shaking, his breathing ragged.
For a moment, they just sat there, the engine idling. The valet, a young guy in a red vest, was already approaching.
Andi wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, a slow, smug smile spreading across her face. “You good?”
He let out a shaky laugh, running a hand over his face. “I might need a minute. Or ten.” He looked at her, his eyes dark and full of a dizzying mix of lust and utter adoration. “You’re a menace.”
“You love it.” She leaned over, kissing him quickly, tasting the salt of his skin and the lingering sharpness of vodka on her own lips.
The valet tapped on the window. Matt rolled it down, his composure slamming back into place so completely it was almost frightening.
“Good evening, sir. Celebrating graduation?”
“Something like that,” Matt said, his voice even as he handed over the keys.
They stepped out into the cool evening air. Andi smoothed down her dress, the same sundress she’d worn that morning. It felt like a lifetime ago. Matt came around the car, his arm slipping around her waist, pulling her close. His body was still humming with unfinished energy.
“They’re all in there,” he murmured into her hair, his gaze fixed on the warm, noisy interior of the restaurant. He could see Ben holding court at a long table, their parents laughing. “You ready for this?”
She leaned into him, feeling the solid, reliable strength of him. She thought of the crib they’d build this weekend, a tangible symbol of the future mending the past. She thought of the new job, the terrifying, brilliant unknown. And she thought of the secret, potent knowledge of what had just happened in the car, a private current running beneath the public celebration.
“I’m ready,” she said, and let him lead her inside, the ghost of her touch a brand only he could feel.
The restaurant’s noise hit them like a wall, a roaring cascade of clinking silverware and overlapping conversations that instantly erased the private silence of the car. Matt’s hand found the small of her back, a steadying pressure as they weaved through the crowded space toward the long, boisterous table where Ben was already standing on a chair, orchestrating a round of shots.
“The graduates arrive!” Ben boomed, spotting them. His eyes, sharp and knowing, flicked from Andi’s flushed cheeks to Matt’s carefully composed calm. He leaned in as they sat, his voice a low tease for Matt alone. “Took you long enough. Get lost?”
“Almost missed the turn,” Matt said, his voice dry as dust. He caught Andi’s eye across the table, and the shared secret sparked between them, a live wire in the middle of the celebratory chaos.
The dinner was a whirlwind of shared plates, laughter that made Andi’s sides ache, and toasts that ranged from genuinely heartfelt to gloriously profane. Her father, a man of few words, stood and simply said, “My daughter,” his voice thick with an emotion that made Andi’s eyes prickle. Matt stayed quiet through most of it, his arm draped over the back of her chair, his thumb occasionally stroking her shoulder.
He watched her, this woman who had rewritten his entire world. She was radiant, fully in her element, debating literary theory with Sarah one moment and laughing uncontrollably at one of Ben’s terrible jokes the next. She was the same Andi, yet entirely new, and the sight of her now, free from the weight she’d carried for months, filled him with a quiet, profound awe.
Later, as the dessert plates were cleared, her parents made their rounds. Her mother pulled her into a tight, lavender-scented hug. “I am so proud of the woman you’ve become,” she whispered, the words a balm on old, unspoken wounds. Her father’s embrace was briefer, firmer. “You did good, kid.”
With their departure, the energy at the table shifted, becoming looser, more conspiratorial. Ben slammed his hands on the table. “Right. The old folks are gone. We’re not done. Bar. Now.”
The bar was a dimly lit cave a few blocks away, all exposed brick and the warm, earthy smell of spilled beer. They claimed a high-backed booth in the corner, a sticky table between them. Sarah immediately commandeered the cocktail menu while Ben went to the bar, returning with a pitcher of beer and four whiskey chasers sloshing precariously on a tray.
“To Andi,” Ben said, raising his glass of amber liquid. “For finally getting a piece of paper that says she’s as smart as we all knew she was.”
“And to Matt,” Sarah added, her grin wicked. “For successfully navigating to the restaurant. We were starting to worry.”
Andi kicked her under the table, but she was laughing, the sound bright and clear. She felt the whiskey burn a warm path down her throat, settling next the warmth of Matt’s thigh pressed firmly against hers. This, right here, was a different kind of graduation. It was the beginning of everything.
The whiskey settled in Andi’s veins, a pleasant heat that made the world feel soft at the edges. She leaned into Matt’s side, her head finding the familiar hollow of his shoulder as Ben launched into an elaborate story about his own graduation, which apparently involved a stolen golf cart and a campus security guard named Phil.
“Another round?” Ben slurred, signaling the waiter with an enthusiastic but uncoordinated wave.
“Just a coke for me,” Sarah said, closing her menu. “The fancy kind with a lime.”
Ben squinted at her. “Since when do you drink soda? You’re a gin-and-tonic girl.”
Sarah placed a hand on her stomach, a small, secretive smile playing on her lips. “Since I’m drinking for two now. Designated driver for life, or at least for the next seven months.”
The table froze. The noise of the bar seemed to recede, pulling back like a tide.
Andi sat up straight, the alcohol haze burning away in an instant. “Wait. What?”
“You’re…?” Matt’s question hung in the air, unfinished.
Ben’s mouth was open, his expression a comical canvas of shock that slowly melted into dawning, radiant joy. “Are you serious?” he whispered, his voice cracking.
Sarah just nodded, her smile widening as a tear traced a path down her cheek. “Yeah. We’re serious.”
Ben let out a whoop that turned heads at neighboring tables, scrambling out of the booth to pull Sarah into a crushing embrace. He was laughing and crying into her hair, his large frame trembling. “A baby? We’re having a baby?”
The celebration reignited, louder and more profound than before. Toasts were made with clinking glasses of beer and Sarah’s virgin mojito. Plans were shouted over each other—nursery themes, names, whether the kid would inherit Ben’s questionable dance moves. Andi watched them, her heart so full she thought it might burst, her hand finding Matt’s under the table and gripping it tight.
Hours later, they spilled out onto the sidewalk, the cool night air a shock to their systems. Ben was practically carrying a giggling Sarah, while Matt had an arm slung around Andi, keeping her steady as the world tilted on a gentle axis.
“I’m not that drunk,” Andi insisted, her words slightly blurred, leaning her full weight against him.
“Of course you’re not,” Matt said, his voice a low rumble she felt through his chest. He pressed a kiss to her temple. “You’re just… gravitationally challenged.”
Sarah expertly herded them all toward the SUV, a patient captain navigating her drunken crew. “Alright, lovebirds, in you go. Ben, stop trying to click the key fob at the traffic light.”
The drive home was a warm, blurry capsule. Andi rested her head against the cool window, watching the streetlights smear into golden streaks. In the backseat, Matt’s hand was a steady, warm weight on her thigh, his thumb tracing idle patterns through the fabric of her dress. She could feel the memory of his mouth on her skin from that morning, a phantom pleasure that made her shiver.
Sarah pulled up outside their apartment building. “End of the line, you two. Try not to break anything on your way up.”
“We make no promises,” Matt said, helping a wobbly Andi out of the car. “Thanks, Sarah. For everything.”
“Get some sleep,” Sarah called after them, her smile visible in the dim interior light before she pulled away, leaving them alone in the quiet hum of the city night.
They stumbled through the lobby and into the elevator, leaning against the mirrored walls. Andi looked at their reflection—his tall, solid frame supporting her, her hair a mess, her smile loose and happy. He saw her looking and met her gaze in the glass.
“You good?” he asked, the same question from the car, but now it meant everything.
She turned and wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shirt. He smelled of whiskey, clean cotton, and home. “I’m perfect,” she mumbled into his chest.
The elevator dinged open on their floor. He half-walked, half-carried her to their door, fumbling with the keys until the lock gave way. They tumbled inside, into the dark, familiar silence of their own space, the door clicking shut behind them, sealing them in their new, unfolding world.