Me:
Gross.
Triss:
Sorry. But also… we’re not done, so… double sorry for the noise.
Kat:
Is Graves really so boring that you’re texting us right now?
Triss:
Keep talking shit, and I’ll describe it to you. In detail.
Kat:
Please don’t. I really don’t need to picture all the ways he’s disappointed you tonight.
I snort as Bex drops a line of laughing emojis.
As I close our group chat, though, my chest suddenly feels heavy. Like there’s a weight pressing down on me, reminding me that I don’t actually get to keep this. That I made a choice that would forever mark me as a traitor. One that’s still threatening to catch up to me. These friends I’ve made, this family I’ve tried to sneak my way into, they’ll turn their backs on me soonenough. For the last year, my allegiance has been to the enemy. That’s not a sin a few tequila shots can erase.
With a sigh, I pocket my phone. Then I lean my head back against the headrest and close my eyes.
“Not gonna throw up, are you?” Decker asks.
“No, Linc. You don’t need to worry about your precious truck getting all messy.”
“I did just get her detailed.”
“Another her? This one got a name too?”
“Of course. Jane.”
I laugh. “You named your truck Jane? Not something… I don’t know. Sexier?”
His mouth twitches. “Jane is sexy.”
“No. You name cars after women you’d want to take home. You know, like Lexi, Scarlett, Roxy. Sexy names. Jane sounds like she works at a bank.”
He hums a few lines of a song and then looks at me expectantly, as if he wants me to finish the lyrics. When I shrug, he sighs. “Jane? Jefferson Starship?”
“Ah, of course. The eighties.”
“Seventies, but yeah.” His mouth curls up on one side. “See? You don’t sing about a woman who isn’t sexy. Jane is sexy.”
“You’re only in your thirties. Why are you listening to music that’s a hundred years older than you?”
He laughs. The smooth, easy kind he only lets out once in a while. “If you don’t like Jane, you definitely won’t like what I named my bike.”
I pull my feet up on the seat and twist towards him. “Lay it on me.”
“How do you feel about Barb?”
A scoff escapes me. “I have never hated anything more.”
His face splits in a grin. “Come on! Barbara Ann?”
