‘What’s going on with you?’
I turn to see Aiden, eyebrow raised sceptically. His eyes linger for a moment. Or, at least, as long as they can before they have to flit back to the road ahead.
‘Nothing.’
‘You haven’t said a word this whole journey. You just keep staring out the window like you’re in a music video.’
I sigh and turn my head in the opposite direction, watching as the cars slow on their way back to the city.
‘See, usually that would have got me a laugh.’ He pauses, his tone softening as he risks a second glance. ‘Seriously, what’s up with you?’
I snap at him. ‘Shouldn’t you keep your eyes on the road? I’m not in this car with you by choice; we don’t have to make small talk.’
It is entirely uncalled for, but, in my defence, so is his incessant checking-up on me. If I wanted to talk about it, I would, and I would do so with literally anyone else in the world.
‘Wow. Well, next time we go to Evie’s, you can drive yourself,’ he says jovially, my snark rolling right off his back. ‘You’re one of those super cautious, annoyingly rule-abiding drivers, aren’t you?’
He’s trying anything now, angling for any kind of bite.
‘I bet you passed with a perfect score,’ he continues. ‘Come on, what was it? You can tell me. . . Or maybe it wasn’t so perfect! Is this where I learn that you’re actually a rule-breaking speed demon?’
‘I don’t drive,’ I sigh, desperate to shut him up.
‘Why? Environment? Road tax?’ He gasps. ‘Suspended licence?’
‘I haven’t passed,’ I say. ‘Never even took my test.’
It slips out, a result of my desperation to quell his relentless attempts to fill the silence, but I immediately wish I could swallow it back up again.
Aiden pulls the handbrake up at a red light, taking the moment to properly turn towards me.
‘What?’
‘I don’t have a licence,’ I say through gritted teeth.
‘You don’t have a licence,’ he says slowly.
‘Well, what do I need a car for? Buses, trains and taxis exist.’
‘This journey, no?’
He’s too smiley, too light. He’s having too much fun sparring and it’s only souring my mood more.
‘I said I’d get the train,’ I retort.
‘And I said I wouldn’t let you, because that was a pointless idea,’ he says.
‘Well, then, you don’t get to lord it over me. And you don’t get to act all superior just because you can push some pedals.’
Silence drowns us yet again, the air stale and awkward. I painstakingly count each raindrop that slides down the glass. I know he meant nothing by it, and usually I would have taken it on the chin, but today is not the day for anyone to test me.
But Aiden, annoying as he is, isn’t Benji, and for once isn’t the person actively making my life a misery. I can’t take everything out on him; it just isn’t fair and it would prove for a very awkward forty-eight hours. I glance over. His eyes are now fixed on the road, his grip tight on the steering wheel, arms and jaw tensed.
‘It was just one of those things that I just never got round to doing.’ I attempt to defuse the tension. ‘I tried at the start. Began learning the second I turned seventeen. Booked in ten lessons starting the day after my birthday. I had the test booked for the summer because that gave me enough time to get my forty-five hours of practice in.’
He nods curtly, stealing a fleeting glance at me. He doesn’t speak, but his grip on the wheel loosens ever so slightly.
‘Then what happened?’ he asks.
