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He was thinking about me.
I’m still thinking about him. I sort of hate that I agreed in the end. I mean, what’s the probability that they’d even be angry if he had a phone? He’s already blindfolded.
This was a really stupid idea.
“Rose?” Lily asks, since Rose still hasn’t replied to her.
“She wants us at next week’s luncheon,” Rose replies, confirming that she’s talking to their mom. “Which is not happening.” I’ve heard about the fancy luncheons that the Calloway sisters go to just to visit with their parents. They don’t sound fun.
A white Ferrari speeds up and drives next to our car; Coconut’s head flops out of the open window. A big goofy smile on the husky’s face. On the passenger side, Ryke clasps the top of the window frame.
Suddenly, Daisy steps on the gas, zipping off fast. The Ferrari must go from our speed (maybe forty?) to a hundred miles per hour in a second flat. My jaw is on the floor.
That is…terrifying.
And yet, I really love hanging out with Daisy.
“Uhh…” Lily gapes. “I’m not supposed to follow them, am I?”
Lo shakes his head. “No way. We’re not driving off a cliff with Thelma and Louise.”
Heat encases me, hot with worry. I dig through my backpack for a water bottle. “Do they know where they’re going?”
Daisy said she planned to follow us, and I don’t want her to end up in a ditch where we can’t find her. Even the thought brings this wave of panicked sadness.
“Nope,” Lo says. “I hope he gets lost.” Please no.
“Knowing Ryke and Daisy, I’m sure that’s their goal,” Connor chimes in from the backseat.
I don’t know if she’ll receive it, but I quickly text Daisy. Love you. I wish I could text her the directions, but no one’s allowed to share them over any electronic device. In case of hacks. Reminding her that I care is the best I can do. I wouldn’t ever tell her to stop being who she is. Daredevil and all.
Leaning forward, I fiddle with the middle console air vents, trying to direct them towards the back. Even though I’m way too far away from the trunk.
But all I can think: if I’m feeling this heat, I just hope Garrison isn’t suffering.
Please don’t die in the trunk.
27
garrison abbey
I’ve done some strange shit. Drunk. High. But being curled up in a duffel bag for twelve hours definitely is the strangest. And I’m stone-cold sober.
By hour three, I was rethinking the sober part.
I should’ve taken about five shots of vodka before Willow helped me into this bag. She volunteered to load the trunk just to make sure no one would throw their suitcases on me. Grateful doesn’t even cut what I feel.
A blindfold covers my eyes, the fabric soft. I’m fully in the over-sized duffel with just an inch unzipped for air circulation. Every pitstop when it’s clear the Escalade is emptied out of passengers, I readjust. Sometimes, I unzip the bag just so I can extend my legs. But I’ve only done that once so far. Not wanting to risk it.
She’s putting a lot of fucking trust in me.
Bucket loads.
I’m not going to blow it.
But fuck, it’s hot back here. My shirt suctions to my skin, sweat building. A water bottle pokes me in the spine, but I haven’t taken a sip. I can hold my bladder as long as I don’t consume liquids.
It’s been a couple hours since the last pitstop where I stretched my legs, and I’m not about to do gymnastics with people in the car. Connor Cobalt’s voice sounds the closest, which makes me think he’s in the backseat.
That guy is way too perceptive not to notice something rustling around in the trunk. My legs ache, but it’s better than ruining Willow’s relationship with her family. I’m already putting that on a razor-thin line.
“You have two miles and then you turn right.” Rose’s voice is faint. Front seat. Maybe passenger side. It’s been kind of a fun game trying to pinpoint the seating arrangements. At least it’s taken my mind off of being in a duffel bag.
Fuck, my life is weird.
The car starts to meander around winding roads like we’re driving on mountains. The movement churns my stomach. Don’t get car sick. Dude, if I upchuck in this duffel bag and have to sit in my own puke, I might die. Literal death.
I breathe quietly through my nose and cinch my eyes close. I drift off for a couple minutes until Loren’s voice shoots me awake.
“Hey!” Lo shouts. “Crazy Raisins!”
No clue what that’s about. All I know is I haven’t heard Ryke and Daisy’s voices in the Escalade since we left Philly. I figure they must be in a different vehicle.
Rose yells, “Follow us, please! Daisy, you don’t need to be driving in the dark!”
“How many times has she driven a car?” Connor questions calmly.
