Page 4 of Shut Up and Drive

A collective sigh comes from across the counter from our mothers.

“After all this time, you two still can’t get along? I remember a time not too long ago when you kids were inseparable,” Mrs. Spencer laments.

Flashbacks fromthatsummer rush me: the “accidental” contact that became a secret language only the two of us spoke. Glances lingering longer than friendship allowed, and nearness that hummed with an energy more intimate than just proximity. The kiss that changedeverything.

My heart races as a montage of emotions plays through every nerve in my body. I want nothing more than to travel back to that summer and hold onto her forever. But that ship has sailed. I forced myself long ago to accept that if I couldn’t have her in the future, at least I had her in the past. I know I need to move on and close Memory Lane just like she has, but it’s my favorite place to visit. There’s a time and a place for it, though, and now is not that time. Especially while sitting next to her in her mother’s kitchen.

I sit up straighter and fold my arms to match Sera’s.

“Disagreeing is the only thing wecanagree on, Mama,” Sera says.

I nod.

“If you two can’t come to an amicable decision on this, then we will make the choice for you,” my mom says sternly. “Thane, you’re excused.”

I open my mouth to protest, and her hand flies up to stop me. “You’re excused,” she repeats.

Sera snorts a laugh, which prompts Mrs. Spencer to excuse Sera as well.

Like a ten-year-old boy, I slide off my barstool and slink down the hallway, shutting the front door behind me. Before I can make it across the lawn, Sera storms out onto the porch.

“What on Earth was that in there?” she demands, marching across the lawn toward me.

The corner of my mouth raises in triumph.

There’s that boiling point I aim for.

I’ll sleep well tonight knowing I got her going before noon. There is a five-step process I’ve developed over the years for getting the best reactions from Sera.

Step one, play dumb.

I wipe the grin from my face and turn around. “What was what?” I ask, fighting a smile with every fiber of my being.

“That awful display! I mean, I knew you’d completely discarded your manners years ago, but I’d kind of hoped they were just left in your old room like your box of Legos or your basketball.”

I finally unleash my grin, because I know it will throw gasoline on her fire. I wait eagerly for the chemical reaction of my words and her attitude to explode.

When her only response is a glare that I’ve missed more than I realized, I respond. “I haven’t come across them yet. But you never know, I’ve got a lot of boxes to go through still, there may be hope for me,” I taunt.

“I seriously doubt that.”

“Then you ought to lower your standards when it comes to me, Princess.”

Step two: call her nicknames she can’t stand.

Her hatred blossoms right before my eyes.

“I hate being called that.”

“I know,” I reply as I turn to leave.

Step three: walk away when I know she’s not finished.

“Don’t youdarewalk away until we have settled this!” she yells after me.

I pivot and take a few steps back toward her. “Oh, it’s already been settled. Enjoy economy,Princess.”

She scowls, and the satisfaction that rises within me tugs at my urge to laugh.