Page 9 of Shut Up and Drive

I shake my head. “I don’t like this one bit.”

“We’re committed to it now. Come on,” he says, “we’ve already wasted so much time.”

He knows exactly how to convince me: refer to the schedule we’re currently behind on. I glance down at his hands, then up into his espresso eyes. He nods in reassurance, and before I know it, I’m placing a very reluctant foot into his hands.

Thane lifts me up onto the roof of the car like I weigh nothing, and because I don’t like the idea that my very curvy, Puerto Rican butt is in his face, I straighten my knee quickly, launching myself head-first into the sunroof window. I’m dangling half in and half out, butfullyhumiliated.

The day I had hoped for vanished before my eyes. When I woke up this morning, I imagined a relaxing, first-class flight to Amethyst Lake, where I’d be greeted by thesound of the waves lapping at the dock. I’d sway lazily with a book in the hammock by day, and sip a cocktail by the fire pit at night while I watched the fireflies dance in the twilight. What Ididn’tpicture was myself hanging halfway out of a sunroof by my waist in front of Thane Donnelly, while he laughed hysterically at my plight.

“Thane! This isnotfunny!” I shout upside down from inside the car.

“Oh yes it is!” he says between laughs, pulling out his phone.

“Don’t youdaretake photographic evidence of this or I’ll make you wish you were never born!” I threaten pathetically. I look around to plan my descent, but everywhere in that tiny coffin on wheels looks like a rough landing.

Thane doubles over in laughter after taking several pictures from different angles, leaving me solo to figure out how to lower into the car without landing on my head. After a few minutes of panicking, yelling at Thane, and careful consideration of the best way to proceed, I wedge my hands onto the seats and slowly lower into the car. After most of my weight shifts from the roof to the inside of the car, my arms collapse underneath me, and I fold up like a cheap lawn chair between the front and back seats. By the increase in volume of Thane’s laugh and subsequent filming, I know that I look as ridiculous as I feel.

“I’m going to shave your eyebrows off in your sleep, Thane Donnelly!” I yell from beneath my tangled-up body.

“It would be worth it!” he hollers from outside, taking another photo.

I squirm, adjust, and squirm some more. I right myself, lean over the back seat, and grab my purse. I jingle the keysat Thane through the window and scramble into the driver’s seat before I hit the unlock button.

“Wait, I thought I was driving,” he protests.

“Well, by the time we reach the city, rush hour will be over. And afterthatfiasco, I think I’ve earned some time in the captain’s chair,” I reply, doing my best to fix my off-kilter bun and smeared lipstick.

Thane unlocks his phone and turns it around to face me. There on his home screen is my butt hanging out of the sunroof. He smiles at it and chuckles to himself like someone who laughs at his own jokes. “I think I got your most photogenic side, Pidge.”

I shoot daggers out my eyes at him.

He waves the white flag of the moment. “You know what? I think you’re right. You’ve definitely earned it. I’ll co-pilot for the first leg,” he says, opening his GPS and handing over his phone. “You pick the route, I’ll pick the music.”

I sigh, select the route, and put the car in reverse.

“You know the good thing about this morning?” I ask after a few miles.

“What’s that?”

“When you start a trip off as horribly as we have, it can only go up from here.”

Chapter 4

ALL FOR A CHEESESTEAK

Thane

Iget comfortable in the shotgun seat and buckle my seatbelt. My stomach immediately growls, reminding me I left my protein bar on the kitchen counter. I muster up the sweetest “I need a favor” voice I can and ask.

“Hey, Fina. I didn’t eat breakfast, and it’s a few hours until lunchtime. Can we please stop at a gas station and get some snacks for the road? I’m starving!”

“It’ll be lunchtime before we know it, Thane. We don’t need snacks.”

“Sure we do. What’s a road trip without snacks?”

She sighs heavily, and I know she’s about to give in.

“Fine. But make it quick,” she says as she pulls into the convenience store we used to ride our bikes to as kids. I jump out of the car before she changes her mind. She rolls down the window and yells, “And you’re buying!”