Page 74 of With a Little Luck

Ari meets my gaze in the mirror again. “I only imagine it about ten thousand times a day.”

“Me too,” says Ezra. “My song coming up on the radio, T. Swift singing it like she’s basically serenading me.”

“T. Swift?” I ask.

“I mean, Ariana Grande would work, too. I’m not picky.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” says Maya, leaning forward so far that the after-market seat belt locks up on her, “what do you meanyoursong?”

“Didn’t you know?” Ezra gestures at himself with both hands. “I am the inspiration behind the tune.”

A coldness trickles down my spine, even as Ari turns to him, mouth agape. “What? No you’re not!”

She says it … but she’s blushing.

I look back out the window.

This is just Ezra, being his ridiculous, charmingly self-centered self. Ari doesn’t … It isn’t like they …

I can’t manage to finish the thought. The idea of it is too weird. Ari and Ezra? I mean, he flirts with her all the time, sure, but he would also flirt with a palm tree if it gave him the time of day.

“It’s just a song,” says Ari. “It’s not inspired by anyone.”

Ezra slaps a hand to his chest like he’s been struck with an arrow. “You destroy me, Escalante. Don’t ruin this fantasy for me.”

“Not every song has to be about something … or someone,” she says.

“Your protestations speak volumes,” counters Ezra.

Ari scowls. I can tell she wants to argue more, but what’s the point? She just refocuses on the road, her expression shuttered, a blush on her cheeks. And I can’t help thinking that Ezra is right.

Her protestations do speak volumes.

But what exactly is she protesting?

191

Chapter Twenty-Six

The drive to the festival consists of:

A drive-through espresso stand for blended, caffeine-laden milkshakes.

Twisty, scenic roads that alternate between breathtaking views of the ocean followed by towering pine trees.

One stop at a gas station to fill up the tank and purchase enough snacks to feed a small band of barbarians.

One Sasquatch sighting.

A whole lot of inane comments from Ezra.

Some theories from Maya on what the Temple of Lundyn Toune will hold for her and the gang, and the observation—twice—that the way Noah plays their halfling rogue is absolutely hilarious.

Reviewing the musician lineup for the festival we’re headed to, since no one other than Ari has bothered to check it yet. I recognize two performers: Araceli Escalante, and … the Beach Boys! Until it turns out to actually be a Beach Boys tribute band, not, like, the actual Beach Boys. But Maya and Ari are excited to catch a number of the shows, while Ezra moans that he missed some grunge band that played on Friday.

(Okay, I made up the Sasquatch thing.)

Ari grows increasingly tense the closer we get to our destination. I can tell because when Ezra offers to drive for the millionth time, Ari finally relents, pulling over to the side of the road and releasing her white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel. It’s early afternoon once we arrive at the festival and pay twenty dollars to park in the biggest field I’ve ever192seen. Even from the far reaches of the parking lot we can hear the distant sounds of music. Ari grabs her guitar, and we head toward the entry gates.

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