Alexei ran a finger under the collar of the blue button-up he’d purchased at the mall earlier today.
“For party affiliation, I guess I’m an Independent.”
“Oh Lord,” Carolina muttered. “That’s fine. You’re still young. We have time to change that.”
Alexei tried to remind himself that this person was, in fact, more than a decade younger than him.
It didn’t work. He still felt nervous around Carolina, wanted to impress her, seem worthy of her brother. He cleared his throat.
“I vote,” he said. “And I try to pay attention to local politics.”
Both of these things were true. He had tried to educate himself over the last decade, ever since leaving home for college, about political topics beyond abortion and religious freedom. It was almost a completely different world, expanding his viewpoint beyond these things. He always studied his voter’s pamphlet carefully, tried to make his decisions based on what sounded like the best ideas for the community, regardless of what his church or his parents would have said.
It felt monumental, sometimes, filling in those bubbles for himself, dropping his ballot off at the elections center. He wanted to tell Carolina that, but when he looked at her, he realized she was smirking.
“Really,” she said dryly. “I bet you listen to podcasts, too.”
Alexei frowned.
“No,” he said, confused. “Should I?”
Carolina’s gaze turned thoughtful. She tapped the mouth of the beer bottle against her lips.
“Wait,” Alexei said, suddenlyreallyremembering that Carolina was only eighteen. And what kind of an eighteen-year-old drankIPAs? “Should you be drinking?”
She smiled. She looked so much like Ben when she smiled. It made Alexei feel irrationally, immediately protective of her.
“Give me your phone number.” Carolina grabbed her phone from where it sat facedown on the table. “I’ll text you some podcasts you should listen to.”
Seriously,howmany times was he going to have to explain himself in regardto this?
“I actually don’t have a phone. Or, rather, I used to, but my service is turned off.”
Carolina looked at him over the top of her phone case, which read, in bold black letters over a pretty floral background, “INTERSECTIONAL FEMINISM OR BUST.”
“Oh my God. Are you one of those survivalist Luddite people? Do you have an underground bunker somewhere?”
Alexei sighed.
“I just didn’t think I needed my phone on the PCT.”
“So you haven’t had a phone for, like, months.”
Alexei nodded. Carolina stared at him for a long moment before she started typing.
“I’ll text some recommendations to Ben to pass on to you.”
“Okay.” And then, remembering himself, “Thank you.”
Carolina grinned at her phone. “You are welcome.”
“Lex!”
Out of nowhere, Ben was there, crashing into Alexei’s knee. His hair was in a high bun, his face overtaken by a goofy, lopsided grin. He wore dark jeans, a navy short-sleeved button-up with tiny white polka dots. Every time Alexei looked at him tonight, he felt like he couldn’t breathe. Seeing Ben outside of his hiking clothes had been…a revelation.
“Whitney’s on,” Ben said, chest heaving slightly. When Alexei didn’t say anything in response, his eyes widened. “Don’t tell me you’ve never heard this song.”
“Yeah, I am a mere youth, and even I know ‘I Wanna Dance with Somebody,’” Carolina chimed in.
