Page 20 of Something Like Sunflowers

I tense, readying myself to break the silence, but thank God she does it for me.

“I want to say yes, Dev, but there’s…” She pauses again.

What the heck?

“What are you not telling me, Shana?”

“What? No, it’s just…dang it, Devyn. Don’t hate me for not telling you sooner. It’s just, there isn’t much you can do from out there in the city, anyway, and you always seem to have a lot going on, so I…I didn’t want to burden you with the news.”

She sounds like she’s about to cry, and it breaks my heart because something is going on, and my best friend in the world has been holding it in because I’m busy.

“What’s going on, Shay?” My hands grip the steering wheel tightly, but before she can tell me, I hear a loud honk coming from behind me, making me jump in my seat.

“What is—”

Honk. Honk, honk, honk, honk!

“Really? Shana, I’m so sorry. This feels super important, but some asshat in a white Ford is laying on his horn to get my attention. Pick me up at Dustin’s later, okay? We have some catching up to do. In person.”

“Sounds good, Dev. I’ll see you tonight. Say hi to Hunter for me.”

I barely have a second to reflect on the end of that before I jump again, my ears ringing.

Honk! Honk! Honk!

Seriously?

I pull my Jeep over to the side of the road, checking my makeup in the mirror before swinging my door open. This asshole is already on my shit list as I click my matching pink stilettos onto the cracked and weathered Pine Forest asphalt and whip my annoyed-as-shit face around to get a glimpse at whoever needed me to stop everything at their convenience.

And it’s him. Just like Shana said.

Of course.

It’s always him.

I roll my eyes and brace myself for the fireworks, because here we go again.

Chapter 10

Hunter

Dammit, woman! Just how many times, exactly, were you gonna make me honk before you pulled over?”

“At least you’re acknowledging I’m a woman now.” She sighs with an air of snobbery that I want to cover with my mouth.

I knew it was her the minute I got behind her car, and not because it looks like Pepto-Bismol on wheels. Because only Devyn Lynn would spend thousands making her car match her nails just to drive around with her muffler dangling by less than a shred of metal.

This girl makes me so mad sometimes. Doesn’t she know how dangerous that could have been for her? I suck my teeth because I don’t think she does. She’s certainly not acting like I’ve done her any favors, cocking her hip to the side and crossing her arms defensively as if I’m inconveniencing her.

Somehow, I’m obsessed with this woman.

“Last time I checked, pulling over for crazy jerks in pickup trucks who won’t stop honking at you was dangerous for girls like me, so you’re lucky I stopped at all.”

“Oh, dangerous, is it? Kinda like driving around with your muffler two seconds short of falling off?”

She furrows her brows and looks to the side at the pink monstrosity she calls a Jeep, then huffs at me like a horse that finally got broke.

“The muffler?”

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