My cheeks burn. My dick twitches. My heartexplodes.
I stumble on the landing, grabbing the banister before I crash headfirst down the stairs. I can see my headstone now:Here lies Win Rhodes, dead two months before his sixteenth birthday from an emoji.
Somehow, I manage to get my shit together and leave the house, jogging to the headlights glaring in the driveway. Out of breath and sweating despite the chilly ocean breeze, I reach the car—
Andrea waves from the passenger seat.
Of course, he picked her up first. She’s probably the one who sent the texts.
I force a grin and climb into the back of the lifted sky-blue Jeep. The pleasant new car scent can't compete with one whiff of Remy’s cologne. I’m fucking high off it. He twists in the driver's seat.
New headstone:Win Rhodes passes away from Remy’s beautiful smile.
I can't feel my mouth moving as I say, “I thought you were getting your mom’s old car.”
Giddy excitement twinkles in his hazel eyes. “They fucking tricked me! I named her Jeanie.”
I snort. “Jeanie the Jeep?”
The rearview mirror reflects Andrea’s dramatic eye roll. “Jeanie sounds like a helicopter mom.”
I shrug. “It’s cute.”
“Thank you!” Remy exclaims, pointing at Andrea. “See, he agrees with me.”
She gives him a sassy grin. “Honey, if you told Win the sky is green, he’d agree with you.”
She's not wrong. Though, Remy’s annoyed pout deserves a frame.
It dissipates the minute he reverses and blasts the pop song he’s obsessed with. I don’t get a chance to complain before he replays it immediately. Hazel eyes flit to mine in the rearview mirror. He smirks. “Buck up, Pooh Bear. My birthday: my music.”
Andrea howls in laughter and instantly starts calling me Pooh Bear. I’m about to strangle the birthday boy.
We survive Remy’s jerky driving and wander into the theater. He cuts in front of me with Andrea before I can buy his ticket. She grasps his bicep, rising on tip-toe to whisper in his ear while I grind my molars.
She’s always touchy with him. This isn’t new. They’ve known each other forever.
The mantra of reassurances doesn’t do shit against the tidal wave of jealousy crashing over me.
I hand the cashier behind the glass the credit card Mom gave me, eyes glued to Remy and Andrea as they step aside, giggling about something I missed.
“Sorry you’re stuck as third wheel, man.”
My head snaps back to the guy handing me the movie ticket. Words escape me. Taking the perforated stub, I walk on numb legs toward Remy and Andrea.
Third wheel?
Her head is thrown back on a laugh and his eyes squint in amusement. They ramble in a disjointed combination of inside jokes while I’m forgotten on the sidelines, choking to death on the hope I foolishly allowed myself to have. It's safer for him to be with her anyway. That's what I want, right? For him to be safe and happy?
“Win, hurry up!” Remy calls, his eyes so fucking bright it hurts. The knife sinks in deeper as Andrea loops her arm through his, grinning up at him.
Following them into the theater, my fingers graze the edge of the envelope in my pocket.
Fucking fool.
I sink into a state of indifference, going through the motions as the night progresses. I don’t remember the movie. I don’t tag along for a beer at Remy’s. I don’t say anything until they drop me off.
“Happy Birthday,” I murmur and shut the door, leaving that stupid envelope in the backseat.
