we're on our way to Lake Tahoe. i hate camping. everyone knows this and no one cares. i'm in The Tahoe with M and her boyfriend; you're following in my car. the boyfriend's driving is making me nervous and we're not allowed to smoke in The Tahoe. they call it The Tahoe. i'm eating twizzlers and staring at her hair. we weren't touching when we woke up this morning. we were both very careful not to touch. i wanted to press my body against her back and wrap my arms around her waist. i wanted to wake her this way. she offered to let me shower first. i declined. i wanted to watch her get out of bed.
i thought about the night before. she turned on the water and got a towel from the closet. i wanted to stay there, in her old bedroom. her parents' house smelled like a cabin full of clean clothes and fireplace memories. the staircase leading up to the second floor was narrow and steep. it was hard to navigate quietly last night. i wondered what she would wear.
i checked my reflection in the mirror over the dresser. i could smell her shampoo.