Page 125 of Okay, Cupid

“Really?”

“Yes. Why do you ask? If I love him?”

“I just wanted to make sure. He’s a good guy, and I know his heart has been hurting these last few days.”

“I know, and I’m going to apologize to him for that. Before anything.”

“With the move … what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know,” I tell her. Another question that I don’t have the answer to. “Go for broke?”

She laughs. “People have made stupider choices.”

“Right.”

Neve comes out of the school, waving her keys in the air as she waits for the light to give her permission to cross the intersection.

“So—” I say.

Alice cuts me off. “Shut up.”

“The two of you …”

“Shut up.”

“Are … dating?”

“Shut up.”

“I’m just curious.” I scoot up next to her.

“Yeah, well. I’ll punch you.”

“Violence is never the answer, Alice.” I pause. “But for what it’s worth, the two of you are cute together.”

“You’re five seconds from getting smacked.”

“Okay, okay!” I throw my hands up defensively, climbing into the back seat as Neve unlocks the car. After we all pile in, Neve ignites the engine and Rico Nasty begins to pour from the speakers.

“Everyone buckled in?”

I yank on my seat belt to show her, and Alice does the same.

“Good, because we’re in a hurry.”

She speeds so fast out of the parking lot the tires literally squeal against the road as she narrowly catches a yellow light before it turns red. And just like that, we race off into the night.

Desperate to find a boy.

• • •

I’m going to be sick.

For one, riding in the back seat has never been my strong suit. There has to be a science behind it, the difference between riding passenger and riding in the back. Or maybe it’s the way Neve is slamming on the brakes, whipping me back and forth as my head hits the headrest over and over again. Geary is slower than ever, and we manage to get caught in front of a bus that really lays on the horn, Neve waving apologetically in the mirror before she turns onto Blake and then Spruce, doing her best to floor it where she can.

But the city is made of four-way intersections.

I only have eyes for the clock on the dashboard, counting down those precious seconds that remain between now and when the donut shop closes. We’ll make it. Even with how close we’ll be cutting it, we’ll make it.