“I know.” He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. “It’s only a few days.”
I crossed my arms over my chest and looked out the window at the familiar scenery speeding by. “I know. I just don’t want to deal with them.”
He reached over and slipped his hand into mine, lacing our fingers together.
The contact helped settle me, and I pulled in a deep breath.
Ash was right. It was only a few days.
We were about ten minutes from home, and we’d spent the day dragging ass.
Originally, we’d planned on leaving at nine in the morning so we’d get there before noon.
That hadn’t happened because we’d spent last night fucking like crazed bunnies and hadn’t fallen asleep until almost three in the morning.
We’d finally gotten our asses in the minivan just before eleven, and we were late.
Bzzzzzz.
I dug my phone out of my pocket.
“Is that Mom?” Ash asked.
“Nope. Dad this time.” I opened the thread.
Dad:where are you guys?? Your mother went through all the trouble of putting together a wonderful meal, and you thank her by being late????
“Dad really likes to use the question mark key.” I quickly typed out a response.
Jules:In the car. About ten minutes away. Traffic was really bad.
“This is why boomers shouldn’t text.”
I snickered. “Pretty sure they’re Gen Xers.”
“Boomer is a state of mind.” He squeezed my hand when I gripped it again, needing him to ground me.
“Does your mom correct your grammar in texts too?”
“All the time.” He rolled his eyes. “So annoying.
“Same with Dad. But then he turns around and uses ellipses like they’re going out of style. Not to mention the triple question marks when he wants to make sure I know he’s pissed off.”
“Mom’s thing is emojis. She always uses them. Like I can tell you’re pissed, no need to use the angry face.”
“So, are you meeting up with your friends tonight?” I looked out at the window again, hating how small and seeking my voice was.
“I kinda have to.” He squeezed my hand. “Darren’s doing a thing at his house, since his parents are away.”
“Are his parents ever home? I swear every party you go to here is at his place because it’s empty.”
“They are, but not often. His dad travels a lot for work. And his mom likes to tag along and shop.”
Darren was one of Ash’s friends from when he went to private school, before he’d moved in with us and transferred to my regular old public high school.
“Was it hard switching schools in the middle of sophomore year?”
He snorted. “It wasn’t exactly fun.”