Proof enough.
Chase leans back in his seat, smirking. “He loves whoever feeds him. Just like me.”
I roll my eyes, but my pulse spikes in that annoying way it always does around him.
Hallmark. Too good-looking for his own damn good.
I chew my candy faster, the sugar sparking through my veins like gasoline on a flame.
We coast along the Pacific Coast Highway, windows down, the ocean breeze threading through our hair. Music pours from the speakers, our shared playlist, an accidental love letter in track form. Every time a ballad comes on, he turns the volume up and sings with obnoxious passion just to make me laugh.
We make a spur-of-the-moment turn into Huntington Beach lookout, the view stretching into infinity. The sun is high and hot, painting the water in sharp, glittering patterns. The sugar’s buzzing warm in my system, and when I see a sandy lookout, I pull the truck over to the side. “Just gonna stop for a sec, I need some fresh air, and I wanna make sure the kid is okay back there.” As if on cue, Doughnut peeks over the side of thetruck bed and lets out a soft bleat. I stroke his head and whisper, “We’re making memories, aren’t we, little dude?”
Chase raises his brow at me with a sly knowing smirk. I really just want to draw this trip out longer. From Laguna Beach to the San Fernando Valley should only take us a little over an hour. We should have this trip over and done with before the afternoon is even over. But I’m not ready to say goodbye to Doughnut yet, and if I am being sincere, maybe I want to drag out spending some more time with Chase too.
The ocean spreads wide, the water glittering in the midday sun like something from a movie, while surfers jog barefoot across the asphalt with boards dripping seawater. Doughnut plants himself at the edge of the truck bed, staring at the waves like he’s unlocking the secrets of life.
“See?” I gesture dramatically, another Red Vine hanging from my fingers. “He’s practically writing poetry right now. ‘Ode to the Pacific.’”
Chase leans against the side of the tailgate, arms folded, his hair catching the sun. He tips his head toward the goat. “Pretty sure he’s just thinking, where can I poop with the best view.”
I burst out laughing, probably louder than I should. My laughter spooks a nearby surfer, who trips on his leash and eats pavement. “Shit, so sorry!” I call out as Chase fights back his laugh.
Doughnut doesn’t even blink, utterly unmoved by human suffering.
Chase shakes his head, but I see it, the softness under the smirk, the way his eyes catch on me when I laugh. I don’t let myself linger on it. Instead, I pop another Red Vine, the sugar crackling sharp on my tongue, chasing away the odd ache spreading in my chest.
Exhaling as I stare out at the ocean, I know I can’t delay this all day, but I still have a few tricks up my sleeve. “All right, let’s keep moving.”
Chase tilts his head, then moves for the passenger seat, giving Doughnut a little pat on his head before he enters the truck. “We’ll get you home soon, boy.”
I slide into the driver’s side, smirking.
Soon, but not just yet.
I take off, and we drive for a little while, when Venice slams into us with all its chaotic glory. I jerk the truck to the side, pulling it to an abrupt stop.
Chase’s hands shove out in front of him to stop him from hitting the dashboard. “Jesus, Lyric!” He groans as I hear a thud in the rear.
Grimacing, I hesitantly turn back to look at Doughnut, and he pops his little head up, almost looking like he’s smiling at me, despite me launching him headfirst into the rear paneling.
The second I park, a crowd swarms the truck. People pull out their phones to take pictures, kids squealing, a guy with a man-bun steps up to my window with a smile. “Yo, man, is this some kind of avant-garde performance art?”
I chuckle, hopping out of the truck as Chase slumps back in his seat, trying to ignore the sudden hype around us, but I am lapping this up. “Ahh, not art, just a cool pet.”
“Can I pet him?” a little girl asks, her mother instantly trying to apologize, but I wave her off.
“Of course, he’s super friendly,” I reply, smiling at the mother.
“Thank you,” she whispers, picking up her daughter, who reaches out to pet Doughnut behind his ear. He nuzzles into the little girl, lapping up the attention.
Baa.He coos, making everyone chuckle, except for Mr. Broody Pants, who is still sitting in the truck, trying to ignore all the attention our goat is getting. I lean down to his window,a bright smile on my face. “Oh my God,” I choke out, leaning against the cab. “He’s famous!”
“Famous for standing still,” Chase mutters, typing away on his cell.
Snorting out a laugh, I roll my eyes. “You’re missing out on all the fun. Get out of the car and hang with the cool people.”
He looks up at me incredulously, letting out a huff. “I am the cool people, Starlight. And you are just buying time. Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing.”
