Chloe had exactly three rules for living her life:
1. Never trust a man who wears flip-flops in a formal restaurant.
2. Always eat the dessert first — life's too short.
3. Say yes to random adventures... unless they involve alpacas. (Long story.)
She was halfway through a solo brunch at a tiny roadside diner in Nevada when Zane happened.
It started with him knocking over a tray of coffees — not just his, mind you, but two elderly ladies' and a construction worker's, creating what scientists might call a "Caffeine Tsunami."
"Smooth," Chloe muttered behind her menu, smirking.
Zane, somehow managing to bow apologetically while also mopping the floor with a handful of sad napkins, caught her eye — and grinned.
That grin was dangerous.
It was the kind that said: Hey, you look like you make terrible decisions too. Want to team up?
Thirty minutes and one shared plate of fries later, they were planning a cross-country road trip.
"Wait, seriously?" Chloe asked between giggles.
"Dead serious," Zane said, his blue eyes alight with a madness that matched hers. "We'll drive until we run out of gas or sanity."
Chloe stabbed a fry in the air like a sword. "Deal."
It was probably the dumbest idea she'd had in months.
Which, by her standards, meant it was absolutely perfect.
---
The car — if you could call it that — was a battered red Jeep with a personality disorder.
It sputtered, groaned, and honked randomly, like a grumpy old man trying to tell kids to get off his lawn.
By mile twenty-two, Chloe regretted nothing.
By mile twenty-three, they were hopelessly lost.
"Wasn't the Grand Canyon supposed to be west?" Chloe asked, staring at the map upside down.
"You're holding it backward," Zane said patiently.
Pause.
"Wait, that's a placemat from the diner."
Chloe gasped. "No wonder the route looked delicious."
Zane nearly swerved off the road laughing.
Somewhere between arguing about directions and singing horrifically off-key to '80s pop songs, something shifted.
A comfort.
A ridiculous, giddy warmth.
It wasn't love yet.
But it was definitely flirting aggressively with the idea.
---
In Arizona, they stopped for gas.
In Arizona, Chloe accidentally filled the Jeep with diesel.
"You're kidding," Zane said, frozen mid-sip of a slushie the color of radioactive waste.
Chloe wilted. "They should label those pumps better! How was I supposed to know green meant doom?"
The Jeep made an unholy noise, like a dying whale.
An old man at the next pump cackled. "Young love," he wheezed. "She'll wreck your car and your heart."
Chloe turned beet red.
Zane clapped a hand on her shoulder. "Hey, if you're gonna destroy my Jeep, at least let me take you to dinner first."
It was such a dorky, earnest joke that Chloe found herself laughing even through the mortification.
She was starting to realize that with Zane...
Nothing was too serious.
Nothing was too broken.
Everything was just another funny story waiting to happen.
---
They slept in cheap motels and sometimes right under the stars.
One night, after a botched attempt at setting up a tent ("I swear the instructions were written by drunk raccoons," Zane claimed), they lay on a blanket, staring up at a sky so full of stars it looked fake.
Chloe rolled her head toward him. "Ever think maybe we're just two idiots wasting gas?"
Zane smiled lazily. "Maybe. But I've wasted gas on worse people."
"Charming," she said dryly.
Silence stretched between them — but the good kind, warm and crackling.
"You ever fall for someone... just like that?" Zane asked suddenly, voice almost lost in the night.
Chloe's heart skipped.
"Maybe," she said, playing it cool even as her insides melted like butter on a Texas sidewalk.
They didn't kiss.
Not yet.
But when Zane brushed her pinky with his, it was a bigger promise than any kiss could have been.
---
Everything was perfect.
Right until Zane's ex called.
They were halfway through a pie-eating contest at a county fair in New Mexico — Chloe winning, obviously — when his phone buzzed.
He glanced at the screen and paled.
"Who is it?" Chloe asked, mouth full of cherry filling.
He hesitated.
And that hesitation hurt more than any words.
"It's... uh... Kira. My ex."
Chloe froze.
Cue the world's most awkward silence.
The air between them thickened, heavy with things unsaid.
Zane fumbled. "It's nothing. She just — I mean, she heard I was road-tripping and... Look, it's not like that."
"Right," Chloe said lightly, tossing her napkin down.
Her heart wasn't buying it.
Because spontaneity was fun.
But so was stability.
And she wasn't about to be someone's cute rebound road trip buddy.
---
Zane found her sulking near the petting zoo, tossing food pellets moodily at a llama.
He sat beside her. The llama spat at him.
"Look," Zane said, brushing llama goo off his sleeve. "I'm terrible at relationships. I panic. I screw up. But Chloe—"
She wouldn't look at him.
"I like you," he blurted. "Like, really like you. Kira? She's my past. You... you're this crazy, wonderful, unpredictable now that I didn't even know I needed."
Chloe sniffled, hiding a laugh. "You really think this speech will work while you smell like llama?"
"I'm banking on it."
She turned to him.
Zane looked nervous, earnest, a little unhinged — the same way he'd looked when they met.
And Chloe knew.
This wasn't a perfect love story.
It was a weird, messy, beautiful whim.
And for once, that was exactly what she wanted.
She leaned in, pressing a quick, shy kiss to his lips.
The llama bleated approvingly.
---
They hit the highway again, a little battered, a little bruised — but smiling.
They didn't know where they were going.
Didn't care.
At one point, Chloe reached over, lacing her fingers with Zane's on the gearshift.
He squeezed her hand, grinning like he'd won the lottery.
Somewhere out there, the future waited — full of wrong turns, bad motels, broken GPS systems, and new adventures.
And for the first time in a long time, Chloe wasn't afraid of where the road would take her.
Not with Zane.
Not with love on a whim.
---
"They weren't chasing a map — they were chasing each other, all..In the name of love."