Page 24 of The Pocket Pair

I’m sure glad Chevy is driving and can’t look at me for too long. A few more seconds of that smile aimed my way, and I’d be doing something even more embarrassing.

Like leaning over to kiss him.

Which would be stupid—not to mention unsafe while he’s driving. Safety first!

Not like I would do it when he’s not driving. I’m not the kiss first, ask questions later kind of person.

But I’d think about kissing him. I am thinking about it. In fact, ever since the summer I turned thirteen, I’ve had kissing thoughts about Chevy. Fantasy thoughts, obviously, and ones of the PG variety.

Maybe slightly PG-13. There’s a lot of room for good kissing in the PG-13 area. But anything more and I’d spontaneously combust right on the spot, leaving nothing behind but a scorch mark to remember me by.

I jump when Chevy touches my arm. “You okay over there, Tiny? I can practically hear your thoughts whirring like helicopter blades.”

He does NOT need to know about my thoughts. “Nope. All good over here. What’s on your mind, officer?”

This earns me another grin. The kind that makes unwanted things swoop in my belly. Die, swooping things, die!

“Many things,” he says, and is it just me, or does this sound flirty?

No—it’s probably teasing. There is a subtle but important distinction. One I’d do well to remember.

Chevy and I tease. We do not flirt. He calls me Tiny; I joke with him. It’s the quintessential little sister’s best friend routine. Anything more is just a product of my poor, overwrought brain.

“Enlighten me,” I say. “What are some of the many things on your mind?”

He’s quiet for a few long moments. So quiet that I turn in my seat to face him. His jaw flexes. His gaze shifts from the road to his bandaged knuckles and back to the road again. Has he already heard about Mari and me leaving? I thought it would at least take half an hour after the meeting for word to spread.

“It’s not my business,” he says cautiously, and NO good conversation starts this way, “but did y’all drive all the way to Austin to buy a pregnancy test?”

Ohhhhh—that. “You saw the box, huh?”

“Hard to miss,” he says. “You threw it at my face.”

I force out a laugh. “Sorry. It was a reflex.”

Chevy looks my way for a quick moment. His blue eyes make me feel all giddy, despite the topic at hand. “So?” he prompts, reminding me that I didn’t answer his question.

I definitely can’t answer him. It’s not my secret to tell. And until Lindy takes the darn test, I won’t know if there’s a secret at all.

“You’re right,” I tell him, as kindly as I can. “It’s not your business.” I also don’t want Chevy to think I’m the pregnant one, but I also don’t want to drop any clues to who might be.

“You’re still with mullet guy?” he asks after a long pause.

“Jaxon doesn’t have a mullet.” I’m not sure why I’m arguing when I know I’m wrong.

“He does.”

“He’s just … overdue for a trim in the back.”

“Mullet,” Chevy declares.

“I didn’t realize you were paying such close attention to my dating life,” I say. Honestly, I’m thrilled at the mere idea that he might be keeping tabs on me. Even if it’s for protective friend-of-his-sister reasons.

“Hard not to when you’re dating a guy with a mullet.”

“I’m not. Dating him. I mean, technically, I broke up with him.”

“Technically? But not, like, actually or officially?”

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