Ditched in the Desert I Chose the Coast

This graduation trip was something Roman and I had planned a long time ago.

Over the past few years in college, I had followed my mafia boyfriend to so many places.

Snowy mountain roads, deep canyons, private shooting ranges, and illegal street races.

They were all playgrounds for his thrill-seeking nature.

On the eve of our graduation, I leaned against his chest and brought it up once.

"Roman, let's go to the beach to take some photos."

"Let's find a coastal town where no one knows us. We can sleep until we wake up naturally, photograph the seagulls, and enjoy the ocean breeze without any bodyguards or rushing."

That day, he kissed my hair and agreed readily.

"No problem. You're the boss for the graduation trip."

I had looked forward to it for a long time, even drafting three different versions of the photo-shoot itinerary.

The hotel was booked right by the coastline, featuring an open-air balcony where we could capture the silhouette of the lighthouse at night.

I even secretly bought a sexy set of lace lingerie, wanting to do something romantic with him to the sound of the ocean waves.

But just a week before departure, Clara suddenly sent an off-road trail map of the Grand Canyon in our group chat.

[A graduation trip should obviously be somewhere exciting.]

[You can go to a boring beach anytime, but extreme off-roading in the canyon is a rare chance.]

Roman replied to her almost instantly.

[This route is intense.]

I stared at the screen, my fingertips hovering over the keyboard for a long time without pressing down.

In the end, I only typed out one sentence.

[But didn't we agree to go to the beach?]

Clara replied just as fast.

[Blair, you don't actually want to turn our graduation trip into a retirement home, do you?]

[We're all young here. Don't be such a nun.]

Other guys from his crew joined the group chat to tease me.

Some said the canyon was the only place fit for a real man. Some said the beach was just completely boring.

Someone said it would be a total waste if born thrill-seekers like Roman and Clara didn't go racing in the canyon.

Roman didn't say a single word in the group to defend me.

He just sent me a private message.

[Don't be a buzzkill.]

[Clara is right. I can take you to a place like the beach anytime later.]

Later. There was always a "later" with him.

But every "later" he promised me always ended up being for someone else.

I looked at that message, feeling as if something had tightly gripped my heart.

In the end, I obediently replied with one word. [Okay.]

So, I silently canceled all the beach itineraries.

I stayed up late again to research canyon routes, rent an SUV, book campsites, check sandstorm warnings, make supply lists, and even prepare first aid kits.

Clara threw out a casual remark in the group.

[Blair is always so good at planning the logistics.]

Followed by a thumbs-up emoji.

Looking at that sentence, I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

On the day of departure, Roman drove that modified black SUV to pick me up.

Clara was already sitting in the passenger seat.

She was wearing sunglasses. Her long legs in cutoff shorts were propped up on the dashboard, and she was swirling a glass of tequila on the rocks.

Seeing me come out carrying a heavy equipment case, she lifted her chin at me.

"Blair, you take the back seat."

"I get carsick easily, so I need to sit in the front for some fresh air."

I got carsick too, and Roman knew that better than anyone.

Just as I was about to speak, he had already opened the back door for me.

"Just make do with it. Clara was partying at the bar until three in the morning, and she has a headache now."

"There's plenty of room in the back, so you can just lie down and take a nap."

I watched him make arrangements for another woman so naturally, and I suddenly remembered the year we first got together in college. The first time I accompanied him out of state for a family event, I was so carsick that I turned pale.

He gave up the passenger seat to me without hesitation. The big, bad mafia heir actually squeezed into the back seat, handing me water, tissues, and mints the entire way.

At that time he said, "So what if my girlfriend is a little delicate? I like spoiling her."

"I just love taking care of her."

But now, he casually shoved my luggage into the trunk.

He turned his head and whistled at Clara. "Buckle up. Get ready to enjoy the ride."

I stood by the car and smiled quietly.

It turned out that being his favorite had an expiration date.