“It’s disgusting tome,” she says, rolling her eyes. “You all act like I have nothing going on between my ears, but I’m not blind,” she grumbles, “I know my brothers are attractive, they’re also fucking idiots.” She laughs. “And if there’s any reason I’d keep you away from them, it’s because I don’t wantthembreakingyourheart.”
“But what about Kaia and Boone?” I ask her, my brows pinching. The story is as old as time, resurfacing any time I feel the need to deflect.
“You say that every single time. It’s a terrible argument. I had no control over it.” She shrugs. “She’s the earth, and he’s her moon. I’m just a girl, I can’t compete against gravity.”
I smile thinking about them, hoping one day they’ll figure it out. That eventually Kaia will stop being so scared of the change and just let it happen.That or we kill Christian, Goodbye Earl style, and don’t tell Kaia we did it…
“We aren’t killing Christian.” Sunday laughs, reading my mind. “It’s too messy. And don’t change the subject, we were talking about Brighton.”
“We were?” I feign confusion, and she scoffs. “We’re just friends, Sunny. That’s all.”
“Alright…” She doesn’t believe me, but she’s not winning the argument today, and she knows it.
“He wants to take Daisy and me camping this weekend,” I say to her, closing the lid on my empty container as I finish.
“Wow,” she mumbles. “He usually does that trip alone.”
“What trip?” I ask, stomach dipping.
“Every year, he goes up into the park and camps by himself. Says it helps himreset,” she mocks, “I think something happened overseas, I know it did. Boone knows, but neither of them will tell me. Something about this month marks an anniversary for something he won’t share.”
“Do you think it’s a bad idea to go?” I chew on my bottom lip.
She stares at me for a second and ponders my question. “If Bri asked you, it means he needs you.”
“Oh.”
“It’s a big ask, Rhea—especially since youdefinitelydon’t have romantic feelings for my brother,” she smirks. “But if he’s reaching out for help, please don’t leave him hanging. Take his hand—because it doesn’t happen very often that he offers it, and he could use all the friends he can get.”
She sounds sad that he isn’t reaching out to her, and I don’t know how I feel about it, but I nod, trying to understand where she’s coming from without letting the guilt eat at me.
“What’s your favorite song?” Rhea asks, focused on her phone as we drive out of the city.
The one you sing in the shower in the morning… the one that you sing at the top of your lungs. It’s that one by Nine Days, Absolutely… or maybe it’s called Story of A Girl. It’s been stuck in your head for a week.
“Dunno. Probably something by the Eagles.” I adjust my grip on the steering wheel, checking over my shoulder to make sure that Daisy still has her headphones in. It took some convincing, and none of it was me, but eventually we got her excited for the impromptu trip. Rhea’s wearing shorts made of the thinnest fabric that rides up her tattooed thigh dangerously as she shifts in the seat and lets the wind push through her hair.
“Probably something by the Eagles,” she mocks me with a crazy laugh. “Says the guy who has a playlist for brushing his teeth. What is it really?”
If I told you, it would make it substantially harder to keep my hands to myself.
“The Reason by Hoobastank,” I tell her, it’s not the truth, but it’s so weird that she’ll overlook the way my heart is pounding, pinned to my sleeve and bleeding down my arm.
“Hoobastank!” She laughs even harder, and the soft strands of her dark hair fall from the ponytail she has in, “I can see it, you’ve got an unhealthy obsession with early-2000s rock-pop. I’ve never met a man in the top one percent of Nickelback's Spotify fans.”
“Don’t diminish that. It was hard to earn that award.” I scoff, and she smiles at me.
“I’m sure it was.” Her tone softens as she goes back to scrolling through her phone for music to play. “Give me your phone,” she asks, and I oblige. “You need to expand your musical tastes, Brighton Black. This is ridiculous.”
“If you put any girl-pop on that playlist, I’ll turn this truck around,” I toss out the empty threat.
“How fast? Because Sabrina Carpenter is itching to make your ears bleed,” she jokes, and her smile makes the lines around her eyes crinkle.
“At least three traffic violations will be made,” I grumble, but it seems to satiate her need to push my buttons because she quiets for a little while, and so does my mind.
I hate how easily she does that without knowing. Like having her close is an interference to all the other noise around me. I swallow tightly, checking on her out of the corner of my eye just to see her. Distraction isn’t healthy, but damn does she make it a comfortable place to be.
“How much further?” She doesn’t look up, but it’s clear she’s giving herself access to the road trip playlist I made so she can fix things she doesn’t like.
