Page 11 of The Road to Finding Us

“Well, during your raid of my apartment last night, you didn’t tell me how long you were planning on staying at Mav and V’s, so I had to be prepared,” she counters.

I look up from the bottom of the stairs to watch her sling her large purse onto her shoulder. She goes to grab one of the smaller bags, but in the process of bending down, all the contents spill from her purse.

“Shit,” she shrieks, lowering to the floor in response. Her tiny hands scramble to gather everything that’s been dumped.

I make my way back up the stairs to help her pick up her stuff.

“I’ve got it,” she snaps, smacking my hand as I move to grab something for her.

I let out a sigh and then lean back to leave her to it. “I was just trying to help,” I point out. I won’t bother to try again. If she wants to be so demanding, I’m not going to argue with her. We haven’t even started the trip yet and I’m already wondering if this was a good idea.

Our relationship can only be defined by one word: chaos.

We were never really friends. I knew she was trouble from the moment I met her. The kind of trouble I was attracted to, but the kind that also happened to be my best friend’s twin sister. I knew right off the bat that she was off limits, but that didn’t stop me from forgetting it years later. Enough time playing cat and mouse with her did me in, and eventually, I lost sight of why I didn’t let us cross the line to begin with.

Senior year, Lily and I had started down a road that was a dead end from the very beginning. I thought if we both got the other out of our system, the sexual tension would dissipate.

I was incredibly fucking wrong.

After the first time I kissed her, I only wanted to do it again and again.

She was an addiction, but addictions can’t last. Eventually, you have to quit cold turkey.

That’s exactly what I did. I quit her so suddenly it probably gave her whiplash. It did me.

It was a necessary precaution I had to take. It was becoming too easy to need her, so I bailed before she realized I needed her more than she needed me.

I moved on from her. I forced myself to.

But soon, I’ll be stuck with my best friend’s spitfire of a sister in a closed space—for an extended period of time.

The two of us have never been able to communicate effectively. The only way we know how to speak to each other is through arguments and insults.

Why did I think putting the two of us in a car together for days on end would be a good idea?

A flick to my bicep breaks me out of my thoughts. I look up to find Lily glaring at me.

“Are you going to tell me which car is yours?” Her heads tilts in the direction of the parking lot, and I follow it with my gaze. The sun has barely risen in Dallas, giving an orange hue to the parking lot. Because it’s early in the morning, there are still a lot of cars out there. I had to snag a parking spot in the back row.

I straighten from my crouching position, scooping up the only bag left before I head down. “This way,” I point, stepping down the stairs. I don’t bother to look to see if she’s following me. I trust that she is as I grab her bigger bags at the bottom of the stairs and head in the direction of my car.

“Did you have to park a mile away?” Lily complains from behind me.

All I do is shoot her a warning look over my shoulder before continuing the trek to my car. It’s not my fault she chose an apartment complex that has a whole lot of units and not nearly enough parking spots.

“I didn’t want you to answer me anyway,” she says, unable to see the smirk that crosses my face in response.

Sure you didn’t, Lily Bear. “Here we are.” I stop, slapping the hood of my pride and joy.

Lily lets out a gasp behind me, her elbow bumping against mine when she suddenly stops, her sandals scratching the pavement in the process. “We are not traveling across the United States in this.” She says the words slowly, a tone of panic in her voice.

I place her bags on the concrete by my truck as she continues to judgmentally look at my baby.

I reach for the tailgate, hearing the clicking sound as I pull it open. My eyes travel from the small bed of my truck to the two large suitcases placed on the concrete in front of it. When I told her we’d carpool, I didn’t expect her to be such a heavy packer.

I’m unsure of how long this little road trip will take, but I brought two bags to her four. One suitcase and one duffel bag. Lily, on the other hand, has two enormous suitcases, a duffle bag, and a purse that is basically the same size as her duffel bag.

“Aspen, are you listening to me? This thing is a death trap! We can’t travel in it.” Lily drops her bag with a thump before she reaches out to tentatively run her hand across the slope of the metal sitting directly above my tire.

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