Page 134 of The Hookup Situation
“I’ll follow separately in the car,” Autumn adds. “Create confusion, but also, I need to pick up some more ingredients from the store. Everyone is getting pumpkin bread soon. I’ve just been in the mood.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, hugging Autumn.
“Hey, it’s going to be okay,” she tells me, squeezing me tight.
“It will. It’s just a lot right now,” I whisper.
She pulls away and moves my hair over my shoulders. “A year from now, no one will care about any of this. I promise.”
“Come on. Let’s get going,” Zane says. “We’re taking the truck.”
Nick wraps his arm around me, and we move to the oversized garage in the back. Zane clicks a button, and the door lifts.
I gasp. “I didn’t realize you had all of this.”
Zane chuckles. Inside is a jacked-up truck, a couple of motorcycles, a classic Mustang convertible, and a Lamborghini.
“All of this is really subtle,” Nick says.
Zane chuckles. “I hardly drive any of it. And if anyone gets in my way, it will be a monster-truck experience.”
Nick laughs, and it relaxes me. “Shit, let me grab our bags.”
A minute later, he’s running to his Range Rover, unpacking our things, then rushing back.
We climb into the back seat, and the windows are tinted so dark that no one is taking any photos of us.
“Just like old times,” Zane says, adjusting the mirror. “Remember when we used to sneak out in your mom’s Suburban?”
“Youforcedme,” Nick corrects.
“Oh, whatever.” Zane starts the engine, and it rumbles like thunder. “It was your idea half the time.”
“Revisionist history.”
“Remember the Denver concert incident?” Zane grins, pulling out of the garage.
Autumn is waiting in her Lexus.
“We agreed never to speak of that again,” Nick says.
“Now I need to know,” I say.
“No, you don’t,” Nick insists, but he’s fighting a smile.
“Nick tried to crowd surf and?—”
“Zane, I swear to God?—”
“And security thought he was rushing the stage. Spent three hours in concert jail.”
“Concert jail?” I laugh.
“It was a misunderstanding,” Nick mutters.
Zane navigates down the mountain, and the reality of what we’re heading back to settles over us. Our fingers interlock as I stare out the tinted windows.
Zane takes a turn fast enough that we slide across the seat.
