Page 86 of Victorious: Part I

Snorting out a huff, I throw my stuff into the back seat. “You don’t know that. You have no clue what’s around the corner. I mean, look at what happened to Luke and Selene. Perfect example of how life can fuck you up in an instant.”

“You’re right,” he agrees quietly. “But I know your brother. And my sister. And the rest of our family. They’re fighters, every one of them.”

Our family.

The words hang between us, a reminder of the strange ties that bind us—not blood but something just as strong.

“Come on,” he says finally. “We should get going if we want to make it to this other place you want to visit by lunch.”

Sighing, I close the rear door, then move around to the passenger side and slide in, doing up my seat belt. He smiles, then leans across, yanking at the seat belt, making sure it’s done up properly.

I furrow my brows at him in confusion. “What are you doing?”

He weakly smiles. “Just want to make sure you’re secure in case we crash. I don’t want you to get a head injury.”

I try to fight back my smile. “You don’t want me to turn into Meadow?”

He chuckles slightly, starting the ignition. “I think you’re perfect the way you are, Clover.”

My breath catches at his kind words before he turns back to the wheel and then slowly pulls out of the lot without saying another word.

Jesus Christ, he might be protecting me from a head injury.

But he sure isn’t from all the whiplash he’s giving me with his mood swings.

Chapter Twenty

CLOVER

As we drive away from the bottle trees, I scroll through the footage on my camera, already planning how I’ll edit it. The colors are even better than I’d hoped, and there’s a dreamlike quality to the light that no filter could replicate.

With my emotions still racing on high adrenaline and the silence in the truck driving me a little insane, I decide to break through the deafening stillness. “Thank you,” I say abruptly.

Phoenix glances over. “For what?”

“For not making fun of me back there. For not acting like it was stupid or a waste of time.”

He’s quiet for a moment, then glances back at me. “It meant something to you, Reel Girl. That makes itnotstupid.” His lips turn up in the most gorgeous, genuine smile I have ever seen before he turns back to the road.

The simple statement hits me harder than I expect, even with his apparent new nickname for me.

How many times has Maverick tried to talk me out of things because he thought they’re silly or not worth my time?

How many times have people looked at my diabetes and decided it meant I needed to be protected from everything, including my own interests?

Trying my hardest not to look like an overexcited idiot, I rein in my smile and continue as normal. “Next stop is Peggy Sue’s,” I say as calmly as possible, checking the map. “It’s this amazing fifties-style diner. Pink and turquoise everything, with an actual jukebox. It’s got the works.”

“Sounds like your kind of place,” Phoenix chimes, and this time, there’s no judgment in his voice, just an observation.

“How’d you guess?” I laugh. “I’m a sucker for milkshakes and aesthetic.”

“You’re going to want pictures, I assume?” There’s resignation in his voice, but it’s good-natured.

“Obviously. That’sliterallythe whole point of this trip,” I jest.

He chuckles, a slow grin forms on his face, and then he suddenly groans. “Oh jeez, what on earth is this?” he grumbles, moving for the dial on the radio to turn it down as “Pink Pony Club” by Chappell Roan starts playing.

Bursting out laughing, I slap his hand away and turn it up instead. “In case you have forgotten,sir,youcreated this playlist, and therefore, you can only blameyourself!”

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