Kieran, bless him, was fully committed to the bit. He had his seatbelt twisted around his chest like a harness and was miming the car rolling backward, one hand on an imaginary wheel, the other over his heart.
“‘I’ve got it,’” Kieran declaimed, in a terrible impression of Mivo’s voice. “‘Guys, it’s fine.’”
“Stop,” Mivo said, already laughing.
“‘I am in complete control of the situation,’” Kieran continued, as the rookies in the row behind him lost their minds. “As the car majestically returns to the previous intersection,”
The rookies were gone. Finished. One of them had his head on the back of the seat in front of him, wheezing. Reeves had his phone out, because of course he did, documenting the whole thing for future blackmail.
Hartley had headphones in and his hood up, but the corner of his mouth betrayed him.
I had the aisle, as always. My throne. My audience.
Beside me, in the window seat, Felix had his head tilted back against the glass, eyes closed.
His mouth, though.
His mouth was doing the small curve it did when he was actually amused and pretending he wasn’t. The one I’d once watched across Charlie and Henry’s table and lost my place for half a beat over.
He wasn’t fooling anyone. Least of all me.
“and then,” I said, leaning into the aisle, “Mivo discovers the handbrake.”
“Shay,”
“Too late,” I said. “The damage is done. Three witnesses, two traffic cones, one deeply traumatized compact sedan.”
The bus dissolved again.
I sat back. Let the noise roll over me , the laughter, the protests, Kieran pledging his lifelong loyalty to rental car companies everywhere. The specific, perfect pitch of a team in a good mood, headed out on a road trip with a win behind them and the season still in front of them.
This was my frequency.
My home.
I nudged Felix’s knee with mine.
“Admit you love this,” I said.
His eyes stayed closed for a second, like he was considering pretending he hadn’t heard me. Then he opened one , just one, lazy and completely aware.
“This?” he said.
“The chaos,” I said. “The joy. The organized disaster. Me.”
I added that last part lightly. Casually. Like it was a joke.
It wasn’t.
He looked at me for a long beat, one eye still half,open, the bus reflected in it , the aisle, the guys, Kieran’s reenactment entering its second act.
“I love exactly one thing on this bus,” he said.
Then he closed his eye again.
He didn’t elaborate.
He didn’t have to.
