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“Excellent.”
The wheels squeal loudly as he floors it down Shanty Row.
Jenna nudges my ribs, but I fight the urge to look at her and give her the satisfaction.
Facts are facts.
Water is wet.
And Drew and I aren’t friends.
* * *
We travel along the coast for at least thirty minutes. My gut rumbles the entire time. Sure, it’s more than a little awkward being confined to a vehicle with a guy you’ve made out with before, especially when your older brother (his best friend) is there picking fights with his self-appointed arch nemesis (your best friend).
“You are by far the worst driver I’ve ever seen,” Jenna says.
“Complaint acknowledged,” Seth says, obviously not caring.
“And this song sucks. Is there anything you can do correctly?”
“Okay.” Seth raises a hand, but keeps his eyes forward. “You can insult my driving, but you cannot insult this tune.”
“I can, I did, and I will again. Change it.”
“No.”
“It’s awful. How can you stand this?”
“It’s a classic.”
“It’s classically horrible.”
Seth says nothing as the volume inches upward.
“Wow!” Jenna shouts over it. “Real mature.”
“Heidi, please control your sidekick.”
“Sidekick?!”
I set my hand on her arm. “Jenna...”
“Honey, I ain’t no sidekick!”
“He’s baiting you.” I lean forward. “Seth, stop baiting her.”
“Oh,” he whines at me over his shoulder, “but it’s fun.”
I exhale hard. Some things never change.
Drew slaps Seth’s shoulder. He says nothing, but the volume of the music slowly falls back down to normal. At least someone’s able to reel him in. I can barely even handle Jenna by myself.
“We’re here!” Seth says.
I peek out the window as we roll up the long, winding driveway. The two-story house at the end of the drive is lit up with several cars already parked out front. The core friend group, I assume.
Seth parks the truck. “Welcome, ladies, to Casa de la... Rose Family... Beach House, or whatever.”
