She gives me a small smile before exhaling. “Cash is...”
“Waiting.” I smirk. “I know.”
“I'll sit in the back,” she decides. “Give Cash some time with his bestie up front.”
I drape my arm over her shoulders as we head toward the cash register. “You're the best girlfriend in the whole world.”
Ingrid shrugs. “I know.”
By the time we're back on the road, and I’ve kicked Cash to the passenger seat, I make sure I can see Ingrid's face in the rearview mirror. Cash connects his phone to the stereo and Smashing Trout blares through the speakers.
I groan as Ingrid laughs and starts singing along to the song.
“Turn this shit off!” I whine as I grip the steering wheel tighter. “I can't stand them.”
“That's not what you said when we went to their concert last summer,” Ingrid teases me.
“They're small-town legends,” Cash interjects. “Just like your penis.”
I watch Ingrid's face contort into something a lot like rage in the backseat. But as soon as the anger appears, it's gone.
Cash twists in the front passenger seat and faces Ingrid. “Remember when we took my dad's Porsche to that rave junior year and Smashing Trout was playing?”
Rave? Ingrid went to a rave?
Wait—Cash went to a rave?
“Oh my gawwwdddd,” Ingrid drawls. “And you got drunk on blueberry wine because you thought it was—”
“Blueberry tea!” Cash finishes the sentence.
Jealousy twists in my chest.
“And I had to drive home,” Ingrid chuckles.
“But you didn't know how to drive a stick shift,” Cash laughs, clapping his hands together.
“So, I drove in first gear all the way home,” she says with a soft sigh, ending thehilariousstory.
A moment of awkward silence follows.
What—and I can’t stress this enough—the actual fuck?
But Cash interrupts the quiet.
“Good times,” he says, the sound light and airy.
“I didn't know you two went to a rave,” I huff.
“It was nothing,” Ingrid hums. “We thought we were going to one of Archibald's friend's son's house parties.”
“And you didn't invite me?” I playfully punch Cash in the arm.
The car fills with silence after that. Huh. Weird.
“We should, uh, make a bucket list,” Ingrid proposes from the back seat. “You know, to help the trip go by faster. I looked up some places yesterday that might be fun to check out.”
“Like?” Cash raises his eyebrows, intrigued.
