Page 3 of Shut Up and Drive

Thane shrugs. “Now you’re upsetting your mother. Were you raised in a barn?”

I throw my hands up in exasperation and groan. “Fine! You win!” I say as I step through the door. And I’ll be damned if he doesn’t trip me as I walk past him, his chuckle echoing off the marble in the foyer.

This is going to be a long vacation.

Chapter 2

SNAG

Thane

“We’re in the kitchen!” my mom yells from down the hallway.

I lag a few steps behind Sera and admire the handiwork that has taken place the last few years as she grew into her curves. I wouldn’t exactly call it a “glow up,” because she has always been beautiful, but the way her skinny jeans outline her best asset makes me have to remind myself, yet again, that she’s my best friend’s little sister. I have been “looking, but not touching” Sera for most of my life, and frankly, I’m beyond frustrated that I know every freckle, every curve of her face, yet I’m forbidden to do anything about it.

“Oh good, you’re both here!” Mrs. Spencer says with a smile as we march into the kitchen.

“Yep, we sure are!” Sera chimes in. “Thebothof us.”Then she shoots a glance at her mother that says,a little warning would’ve been nice.

My mother starts in. “We’ve hit a bit of a…”

“…Snag,” Mrs. Spencer finishes.

I shove my hands deep into my pockets, waiting for whatever comes next, which sounds ominous, judging by their shifty eyes and lowered tones.

“What’s the matter?” Sera asks, sliding onto a barstool across the island from our mothers.

I leave an empty stool between us as I sit down. There were so many days of our childhood spent sitting at this very countertop, and the empty seat between us makes Sebastian’s absence spill over into the silence.

“We got a call from the travel agent, and there’s a problem,” my mother says. “His assistant misplaced the message to book our flights last month. So when I called to confirm everything, he went online and there were only five first-class seats left. So you two have half an hour to figure out which one of you gets to sit in economy.” My mother’s face twists into a cringe as the news smacks Sera and me in the face.

Sera’s mouth drops open. She was never the princess type growing up, which is why she gets so angry when I call her names like “Boss” and “Princess” in jest, but flying in economy just might be her limit. I stifle a laugh imagining her squished between two giant, sweaty dudes the entire flight to South Carolina. She looks from Mrs. Spencer to me and motions for me to speak up.

“Don’t you have something to say, Thane?”

“Uh, sucks for you having to ride in coach?” I tease.

“Nathaniel James,” my mother chides.

“What? You know I need the legroom in first class, Mom. While Sera, here, would fit into the overhead bin if you squished her hard enough,” I defend.

“Of course you’re not volunteering yourself,” Sera hisses.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, that’s what a gentleman would do. And apparently, even after all these years, you still haven’t figured out how to be one.” She folds her arms and leans her elbows on the counter before continuing. “I refuse to fall on the sword soyoucan get drunk and hit on all of the stewardesses in first class.”

I scoff. “Youwouldassume that.”

“What other conclusion am I supposed to come to, Mr. Travel-The-World-And-Party-In-Every-City? I’ve seen your Instagram feed, Thane. Don’t pretend you’re innocent,” Sera accuses through narrowed eyes. “’Legroom.’ Yeah, right.” She shakes her head like it’s impossible to imaginethatbeing a good enough excuse.

Spoken like a true short person.

“Well, if that’s what you think of me, then I guess your expectation of me being a gentleman was pretty low anyway. I’m not budging.”

“Neither am I,” she pushes back, her bright red lipstick accentuating her stubborn mouth.

I love this back-and-forth between us; it energizes me to watch her boil. Sera lives her everyday life on a low simmer. I always assumed it was the Puerto Rican DNA she got from her mom—even if it is watered down by a few generations now. She’s still fiery and passionate, and I used to live for the animated way it grew to a roar in arguments. Whenwe were teenagers, if I didn’t stir her up at least once a day, I went to bed feeling unaccomplished.