Page 84 of Within These County Lines

“We’re crossing state lines. That absolutely qualifies as a road trip.”

I shrug. “Fair point.”

“Look what I brought you.” He digs through his backpack and pulls out a sandwich bag full of fun-sized Hershey Bars, KitKats, Snickers, M&M’s, and Twix. “Chocolate!”

I blush. “You didn’t have to do that, Xander. You like the sweet stuff.”

“Yeah, but you don’t.”

My body becomes weightless in the seat. “Well, thank you.” I tear open a Twix with my teeth and pop half into my mouth.

He buckles his seatbelt. “Do you have the directions? Where are we going exactly?” His fingers graze his damp neck before he flicks some moisture off his forehead. The heat doesn’t make him look gross, it makes him look edible, like a glazed donut.

I wave my phone in the air and swallow a ball of creamy, caramel chocolate.

“Lead us to our cursed sister, then.”

I can’t help but grin as he excitedly looks onward. This hot mess of a summer has provided me with many reasons not to smile, but Xander sure isn’t one of them. My cheeks ache whenever I’m with him.

We cruise southward on the two-lane road, bordered by familiar green trees, scattered single-story homes, and the occasional white church. The light coming in the passenger window catches Xander’s eyes in a way that makes this drive seem new.

He taps his fingers along his thigh. “Would you rather have a Lab or a poodle for a pet?” he asks, watching the hills roll by his window.

“Huh?”

“Which would you rather get as a pet?” He turns to me. “It’s a road trip game. Would you rather.”

“I know the game. Are you bored already?”

“Far from bored. I’m curious.”

I think for a moment. “Definitely a Lab. Whitley has one.”

His mouth drops open. “Your best friend has a dog, and you haven’t introduced me?”

I grimace. “Sorry.”

“Turn the truck around.”

“Are you serious?” I check the rearview mirror. It’s a vacant road.

“No, of course not. But I would like to meet . . .” He raises his eyebrows.

“Bennie.”

“Aww. Yeah, Bennie.”

“He’s a chocolate Lab.”

“Fitting.” He flicks an empty M&M wrapper onto my lap. “Did you know that the national dog show is in Pennsylvania? I go every year and get front row seats since no one can see me. Invisibility perks.”

“I had no idea.”

“You should come with me this year. It’s around Thanksgiving. Maybe you’ll be home from school.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“Okay. Your turn,” he says after a beat.