The RV rumbled quietly, humming beneath Carver’s feet as he sat sideways in the front passenger seat, knee bouncing, hoodie sleeves pushed up to his elbows. It was one of those early spring afternoons where the sun was warm but not too bright, cutting gentle golden lines across the dash. Mateo was in the driver’s seat—though they were parked—scrolling on his phone with that bored, unimpressed expression he always seemed to wear like armor.

“C’mon, man,” Carver muttered under his breath, casting another glance out the window at your place. “She said she was almost ready twenty minutes ago.”

Mateo didn’t even look up. “She’s getting in a car with two dudes and a mobile tin can. Let her take her time.”

“I..It’s not a tin can, bro, it’s a—” Carver paused, cheeks puffing as he tried not to get too defensive. He looked around like he needed to remind himself it wasn’t some beat-up mystery van. “It’s a—this thing’s a whole house on wheels, man.”

Mateo snorted. “You fell for it.”

Carver’s ears went a little red. “N-No, I d-didn’t.”

“You literally just called it a house. And yesterday you said, and I quote, ‘She’s got a good engine... purr.’ That’s falling for it. You’re dating the RV.”

Carver smacked the dashboard lightly. “Y-You’re so annoying, dude.”

Mateo just smirked, still not looking up from his phone. “So what’re you gonna do if she asks to sleep in a separate bed from you, huh, loverboy?”

Carver flinched slightly and looked toward the back of the RV like the layout itself might save him.

It was a sleek model—shiny charcoal gray exterior, blackout tinted windows, leather-wrapped steering, even the cupholders lit up with soft blue LED rings at night. The inside was nice, like, actually nice—a kind of masculine modern: warm wood paneling, matte black fixtures, and soft grey couches with a pull-out recliner option. The living room and kitchen were combined, the middle space opening up thanks to the side slide-outs. There was a compact stove, mini-fridge, microwave, and one of those stupidly small sinks that made washing a bowl feel like solving a puzzle.

Down the narrow hall were two bedrooms—the back room was Carver’s. It had a queen-sized bed (he insisted it was for recovery, but Mateo swore it was “for dramatic collapsing after shirtless mirror posing”). The other bedroom was smaller, more compact—technically for guests or storage, but now cleaned up with new sheets and folded towels on the bed.

And yeah, there was even a bathroom with a glass-enclosed shower. A little tight, but full standing, and the hot water held out surprisingly well.

Mateo finally scoffed at Carver's daze, repeating himself again: “So. What’s the sleeping arrangement?”

Carver blinked at him, looking almost wounded. “W-What do you mean?”

“I mean, are you sharing a bed with your girlfriend or are you gonna act like a scared little pug and make her sleep in the other room?”

“I-I-I’m not—shut up, dude.”

Carver scrubbed a hand over his face, his cheeks warming as he stared at the door to your place like he could summon you. “W-We haven’t even talked about that yet, okay? I’m not trying to, like—pressure her or somethin’. She can sleep wherever she wants. I just thought it’d be nice. You know. For her to come with.”

“Aw,” Mateo said dryly, “that’s cute. Really. Should I move the snack drawer so it’s easier for you to dig through when you’re crying about how you gave her the big bed and she left you for a man with better sentence structure?”

Carver let out a long groan and dropped his head against the window, voice muffled. “I h-hate you so much.”

“You love me. But not like her,” Mateo teased.

Just then, there was movement outside.

Carver sat up immediately, eyes lighting up as he caught sight of you coming down the steps. He scrambled up, practically knocking over a bottle of water in his rush to grab the door handle and hop outside. The cool air hit him, but he barely noticed, all his focus zeroed in on you—your smile, the bag you were carrying, the way his heart kinda did that dumb flippy thing in his chest.

“H-Hey,” he said, voice soft and warm with that unmistakable fondness. “Y-You made it.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, his grin boyish, awkward but full of joy. “I, uh—so, the RV’s a little bigger than it looks. L-Like, we got two bedrooms and a working shower. M-Mateo made sure. He thinks I’d fall apart without it or somethin’.”

Mateo leaned out the driver’s window with a wave. “Yo. You’re our emotional support. I figured we should keep you clean.”

Carver cleared his throat and gave Mateo the shut up look before turning back to you.

“I c-cleaned up the guest bed for you. U-Unless you wanna—uh—if you’re comfortable with—like, I don’t mind if you wanna crash with me, I just—”

He stopped, blinking, and then rubbed at his neck again. “W-Whatever makes you comfy, I mean. I’m j-just really glad you came. I—uh. I was real nervous you’d say no.”

He stepped aside so you could climb in, watching you with that dazed kind of admiration like he still couldn’t believe you said yes to being his girlfriend. He climbed in after you, not missing the little look Mateo gave him, all smug like I told you she’d come.

As the RV door closed behind you, Carver looked around, then back to you. His ears were still pink.

“So,” he said, giving a crooked grin. “Y-You ready to hit the road?”

Mateo was already starting the engine, the low rumble vibrating beneath your feet as the RV came to life. The road stretched out ahead, lined with budding trees and low sunlight filtering through the leaves.

Carver looked at you again—really looked—and smiled.

This was going to be a good trip.