And I don’t know if she needed all of that because she wants to stay on the road with me or because she’s screwing with me.
Screwing with people always seemed like one of Daphne’s favorite pastimes.
Case in point?
She’s grinning at me as she points to the radio. “Nah. This is my favorite station.”
We’re still on symphonic pop, and I veer a little on the road as I whip my head toward her, but I correct faster than I would’ve two days ago and have much less of a panicked reaction to my own poor driving.
Sleep’s helping my driving skills. This is the first time I’ve veered all day.
“You’re a little easy to manipulate.” She punctuates the statement with a loud slurp as she finishes the root beer.
She follows it with a soft burp, then chuckles. “Can you imagine if I did that in front of my parents? They’d shit a brick.”
My upbringing has me appalled.
My freedom has me smiling.
At all of it.
Her lack of basic drinking manners. Her fucking with me. Her sayingshit a brick.
But mostly—I’m grateful for the opening to talk about her family.
Talking about her family will definitely take my mind off the way she looked when she was eating that donut.
Wait.
Was she screwing with me then too?
Goddammit.
She probably was.
Still, I push ahead. In case she wasn’t. “I thought you didn’t see your parents.”
She snorts softly. “I don’t.”
I cut another glance at her before turning my attention back to the road.
Pretty outside today. We’re driving through a hilly area with green trees surrounding us. The sky is a deep blue with a few nonthreatening clouds floating along without a care in the world.
I’m close.
I’m close to not a care in the world.
But not quite there.
“Ever?” I ask.
“Don’t see them. Don’t text them. Don’t talk to them.”
My pulse rattles unevenly.
I don’t know if I ever want to see my own parents again.
Definitely not for several months.
