“I didn’t—I wasn’t—”
“Piper.” I hold up my hands. “I know. I forgot you existed for a second. That’s on me.”
She makes a face. “You forgot I existed?”
“For two minutes. In my defense, it’s been a while since I had a roommate.”
She shakes her head, still fighting the laughter. “I genuinely saidpenisout loud in that room.”
“Twice. I heard you say it twice.”
She pulls Gerald into her lap and hides behind her hands. I nudge her shoulder until she drops them and finally looks at me.
“Normal,” she says. “We’re going to be completely normal about this.”
“Completely normal,” I agree.
“Moving on.”
“Moving on.”
We sit there for a minute, watching a car pass on the street.
“Where are we?” she asks.
“About forty miles south of Fresno.”
“And tomorrow?”
“South,” I say. “I thought we’d hit the coast. There’s a stretch I’ve been meaning to drive.”
“You have an actual plan?”
“The rough shape of one.”
“Tell me.”
“How about you just relax and enjoy the ride? We’ve got two weeks.”
She goes still. I feel the shift before she even opens her mouth.
“Two weeks?” She’s looking at me now, her brain clearly running numbers she doesn’t like. “Griffin, that’s your entire vacation.”
“I’m aware of how calendars work, Piper.”
“I’m not—you can’t spend your whole—” She turns on the wall to face me. The flush is gone, replaced by something urgent. “I don’t want to be a burden. I didn’t plan this. I know I basically hijacked your car without giving you a choice, and you’ve just been dealing with me this whole time. I didn’t think about what that meant for you.”
“Piper—”
“I’m serious. You don’t have to do this. I can get a bus. Noah could come get me. I can sort myself out so you can have your actual vacation.”
“Piper.”
She stops. She’s breathing fast, waiting for me to say something that makes sense of her sudden panic.
I sit with it for a second. The fact that her first instinct, when offered exactly what she wants, is to check if she’s too much to take.
Her default setting is:I don’t want to be a burden.
