“I know!” Sebastian practically shouted. He thought about telling Lincoln that it was complicated; that Abby had a boyfriend. But Lincoln already knew that. And, he realized, emphasizing that particular tidbit made him look even more caddish than the Internet currently believed. If that was even possible.
Lincoln pulled his water bottle out of its cage, took a swig, and replaced it. “Abby makes you laugh,” he said. “I like her. And I think Lana would like her, which is more important.” He paused, long enough for them to round a bend as they followed the trail through a park. They were riding past houses now, which had views of the greens and the canal and the swing bridges over the water from their backyards. Old guys on folding chairs sat on the banks with fishing rods; little kids kicked a soccer ball. In the distance, Sebastian could make out the silhouette of skyscrapers. Buffalo was getting closer with every rotation of his wheels. His heart gave an uneasy twist.
“Back to civilization,” Lincoln said, echoing Sebastian’s thoughts. Sebastian found himself wishing that the trip would keep going; that they could ride into Canada, past Niagara Falls and Lake Ontario, and onward from there. Bike trips—any trips—were a liminal space, a kind of between place, apart from the routines of work and job and waking up in the same place every morning. Sebastian wasn’t ready for it to end. Especially not when he thought about the pretty pink Abby’s skin flushed when he’d kissed her, how she’d slipped both her small hands into his hair and tugged it, gently, then hard enough to make him shiver.
He found himself staring into the distance with what he suspected was an extremely moony smile on his face. He sniffed the air. “Do you smell that?”
“Honey Nut Cheerios,” said Lou, who’d come up on their left. “There’s a General Mills factory in Buffalo, so whatever cereal they’re making, that’s what you’re smelling. Last time Ted and I came through, everything smelled like Lucky Charms.”
She waved and rode off. Sebastian looked at his friend. “Isn’t Sue married to Ted?”
“I think so? And don’t change the subject. If you want to be with this woman, you’d better say something.”
Sebastian nodded, thinking that Abby knew everything that was important about him; everything that mattered. She’d seen him at his weakest and his worst, as the butt of a thousand Twitter and TikTok jokes. She’d seen him naked. And he’d seen her. He knew the way she’d fuss with her ponytail when she was nervous or thinking; the way she would arrange the pillows to make her burrow every night, and how, sometimes, she’d pull a pillow over her stomach when they were in bed, and how he’d have to kiss her and touch her until she forgot about how she looked and he could gently pull the pillow away and toss it on the floor.
He wanted to spend more time with her. He wanted to learn everything she liked, her favorite songs and movies and restaurants. He wanted to go with her on another bike trip, just the two of them. Maybe it wasn’t love. Maybe it was too soon for him to be sure. But he wanted more time with her. Of that, he was positive.
The Empire State Trail ended (or began, depending on which direction you were going) on the shores of Lake Erie in Buffalo. The Breakaway riders arrived at just after four o’clock in the afternoon. They took turns posing at the blue-and-gold metal plaque that marked the trail’s terminus. Morgan, who’d been riding in the sag wagon, still looked a little pale and drawn, but she smiled when she posed with Lily, and the Pressers arranged their boys and bikes and bodies in front of the sign, laughing as Abby took their picture. Sebastian took a picture of Abby with her mother. Abby took a picture of Lincoln and Sebastian (“Want to make a TikTok?” she’d asked them, her face innocent, and they’d both shouted, “No!” at the same time). Then Lincoln had taken pictures of Sebastian with Abby. He’d put his arm around her, pulling her close, and she’d looked up at him, smiling, a little flushed. He’d wanted to kiss her, but Eileen was still around. They’d have the night together, and all day tomorrow, for deciding what came next. Instead of pleasant anticipation, Sebastian felt anxiety nibbling at the edges of his happiness. Three more nights. Two more days. Then all of this would be over.
They got back on their bikes, and Abby led the group through downtown Buffalo, onto a quiet, tree-lined street, to the night’s B and B. He’d been riding beside her, and they’d been laughing, coasting along, talking about where to go for dinner, and how many Buffalo wings they’d eat, when Sebastian saw Abby go very still.
He followed her gaze and saw a dark-haired man who was standing in the driveway of the house where they’d be staying. He was medium-sized, trim and fit in khakis and a button-down shirt. His hair was short, and he had the sharp jawline of a superhero, and he was looking at Abby, expressionless.
“Oh, shit,” Abby said softly, and let her bike coast to a stop.
“Abby,” said the man. He pulled out his phone, consulted its screen, and looked up again, eyes narrowed. He wasn’t looking at Abby, Sebastian realized. He was looking at him. His skin prickled as he squeezed his brakes, pulling over by the side of the road and unclipping his shoes from the pedals.
“Mark?” Abby’s voice was a little squeaky. “What are you doing here?”
Instead of answering, Mark waited until Abby was close enough, then brandished his phone’s screen at her. Abby looked down, at whatever he was showing her. When she raised her head, he could see a flush creeping up her neck.
“It’s not—it isn’t…” She swallowed. “Mark. Let’s go inside and talk.”
Mark didn’t answer. Instead, he marched up to Sebastian. “Is this you?” he asked, and showed Sebastian his phone.
Sebastian felt a swooping sensation, a kind of preemptive motion sickness, the way you’d feel after you’d been buckled into a roller coaster but before the ride began. He made himself look. BROOKLYN F-BOI STRIKES AGAIN! The headline looked like it was on someone’s Tumblr and not, thank God, Page Six again. Underneath the headline was a picture of him, at a table in a restaurant, bent toward a woman who was unquestionably Abby. He realized that photograph had been taken back at Sackett’s Table in Seneca Falls, and it had been cropped to remove the rest of the Breakaway crew, making it look like it was just the two of them, having a romantic dinner by candlelight.
“You’re that guy from TikTok,” said Mark. It wasn’t a question.
Sebastian lifted his hands. “Hey, man,” he said. “I can explain.”
“No need,” Mark said tightly. “I think Abby can speak for herself.”
In rapid succession, Sebastian had a number of realizations. The first was that he’d fallen in love with Abby. Not just a crush, not just infatuation, but love, for the first time in his life. What would happen if she didn’t choose to end things with Mark and be with him? And could he blame her, if that was her decision? He was, he acknowledged, not exactly the best bet. Not precisely a sure thing. Not compared to someone like Mark.
The other riders were arriving, one by one, pulling up on the sidewalk or into the driveway to watch the show. “What’s going on?” Ted asked, craning his wattled neck toward Mark, face screwed up in an effort to hear.
“I think that’s her boyfriend,” said Sue.
“Isn’t Sebastian her boyfriend?” asked Ed.
Then the three of them turned toward Sebastian. He gave them a wordless shrug, his eyes on Abby.
“Just give me a minute,” she was saying to Mark. “Let me make sure the group’s okay, and we can go talk.” She turned toward the assembled audience, which now included every person on the trip except Lou, who was driving the Spoke’n Four’s Winnebago. Abby’s mother, Sebastian saw, was standing over her bike, hands folded on her handlebars, eyes hidden behind her sunglasses. He couldn’t do anything but watch as Abby rolled her bike up the driveway and left it there, leading Mark toward the house without even a look in his direction.
Abby