“No talking about the legend of Wild Cox,” I say, raising an eyebrow. “That topic is off limits for us.”
“Definitely,” Cash agrees.
Wow, we actually agree on something. I think Cash might be thinking the same thing I am because we stare at each other for a second, and the intense emotion to gouge his eyes out dissipates.
“Stop staring at my best friend!” Wilder blurts out, interrupting whatever innocent moment Cash and I were having.
I furrow my brow as Wilder's mouth forms a tight line.
“I wasn't staring,” I defend myself. “I was just...shocked.”
“Yeah,” Cash chuckles. “Me too.”
“Maybe we can get along,” I offer with a shrug.
Yeah, we can. I know we can. We can put the past behind us and forget about everything for one week. Seven days. 168 hours.
Right?
“I wouldn't go that far,” Cash grunts, whipping his head back. “Itolerateyou, Ingrid. Barely. And mostly because Wilder asked me to.”
Or not.
“Fuck you,” I say to him. “Seriously, Cash, fuck you.”
“That's...” Wilder exhales heavily.
“What?” I say to Wilder as I motion to Cash. “He wants to take my car to driveacross the countryto meet a girl. The least he could do is be nice and keep his shitty comments to himself.”
“This is supposed to be fun,” Wilder expresses as he laces his fingers with mine. “Fun is spelled F-U-N. Not F-U.”
He's trying to be funny. He's trying to lighten the mood. But I've reached my boiling point.
“Apologize,” I demand as my eyes narrow in Cash's direction.
“I'm sorry you were offended by what I said.” Cash raises a defiant eyebrow.
“No,” I snarl. “Apologize for every fucked-up thing you've done to me the past five years.”
“I'm not doing that,” Cash argues and stands.
“Then, I guess you'll be renting a car by yourself,” I challenge. “Because if I'm not going, Wilder says he's not going either.”
“Blondie,” Wilder sighs under his breath.
Whoops. Guess I wasn't supposed to tell Cash that.
Oh, well.
“You're joking, right?” Cash directs to Wilder.
“I'm not spending a week without her, Cash,” Wilder delivers the news as he scratches the sideof his face. “Just say you're sorry and be done with it.”
“I'm not sorry.”
“Of course, you're not,” I say as I rise from Wilder's bed. “Have a good summer, Cash. I know Wilder and I will.”
Then, I head out the door and hurry down the hall.
