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“I thought you said I was going to be on my own here,” she says next to me.
Yeah, I remember what I said.
I don’t know why I thought I’d be able to ignore her presence. It’s all I’m aware of since she arrived. I shouldn’t give a shit if she talks to Kade while she’s here. I want her to miss home and leave Weston.
But it pissed me off.
She’s not home.
She’s here. He can talk to her later.
The cool wind sweeps through the car as “Keep the Streets Empty for Me” plays on the stereo, and I hear her unclick her seatbelt. Looking over, I watch her shiftin my passenger seat and lay her head back over the open window. Closing her eyes and with her face toward the sky, she lays there, letting her hair whip in the wind as we fly down the highway.
Locks of her hair dance over her eyelids and mouth. My chest tightens.
I turn my eyes back to the road, swallowing hard. “Dylan, sit up.”
My car is old. It doesn’t set off an alert when someone isn’t wearing their seatbelt, and she’s taking full advantage of it.
“Dylan,” I bark again, glancing at her. “Come on, it’s dangerous.”
“I know.”
Her soft voice sounds so innocent, and I shake my head. Of course, she knows. Living on the edge isfun,and putting yourself in unnecessary danger is worth a thrill.
But…I don’t slow down the car, either.
I keep my foot pressed on the gas, flitting my gaze to her every once in a while and seeing a smile spread over her closed mouth.
In a few minutes, we’re pulling into Breaker’s, some ’70s rock song playing over the speakers as vehicles enter and exit. Farrow and the team will be at the party for a while, taking advantage of the keg before they head here for food. We’ll be gone by then.
Servers coast around the parking lot in roller skates, and Dylan sits up, smiling wider as she watches them. She loves anything with wheels.
I slide into a bay and park, the menu with a speaker in the center lit up in bright colors outside my window. I reach out, pressing the blue button for service.
I meet her gaze. “You hungry?”
She nods.
The speaker crackles, and then I hear, “Hi. May I take your order?”
I turn to Dylan again, double-checking. “Bacon?”
Again, she nods.
I lean out the window just a bit. “May I get two number ones?” I call out. “Both with bacon. One with onion rings and a Coke. The other with fries and a strawberry shake.”
“Anything else?”
I glance at Dylan. She shakes her head, smiling a little as déjà vu hits me, and probably her too. It’s our fast-food order. When we were little and both wanted friesandonion rings and both wanted milkshakes, but they’re not good enough for washing down food, so we needed a soda too. Our parents would never let us get that much food, so we each put in an order and shared it.
“No, that’ll be it,” I tell the cashier.
“Nineteen eighty-two,” she says.
“Thanks.”
I reach over, avoiding Dylan’s knee as I open the glove box and retrieve my wallet.
