Elliot has an Xterra, and for some reason, that is unexpected. “You go off-roading a lot?” I ask, shifting my bag from one shoulder to the other as he checks the tire pressure on the front driver’s side wheel.
He looks up and squints at me, one eye smaller than the other as his tongue peeks out between his lips. “No. Why?”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Instead, I push up on my toes and chance a peek inside to see if his car is as dirty as his room. It’s not, and that, too, is surprising.
He stands and straightens his t-shirt, the material getting caught on his broad shoulders. “I cleaned it. Vacuumed and whatnot. Thought you wouldn’t want to ride for that long with Taco Bell wrappers under your feet.”
I pretend to swoon, pressing my hands to my chest. “And in that moment, I swear I fell in love with you, Elliot.”
He tosses the pressure gauge in the air and catches it before giving me a dirty look. “A thank you would have worked just fine, smart ass.”
“Thank you,” I concede.
Suddenly, the door to their apartment is thrown wide open, and Cline, in all his disheveled glory, lumbers onto the sidewalk, half dressed and pissed off. Hazel eyes are barely visible as he stares us down, pointing a thick arm and long finger at Elliot. “Where the hell are you going?”
Elliot straightens his shoulders and faces his best friend, his neck tilted a little as they come toe to toe. Cline’s extra two inches barely make a difference when Elliot mans up. Witnessing this makes something in my stomach flutter.
“I’m taking Audrey to North Carolina to her grandmother’s house to see if she can get info on her mom.”
Cline’s eyes go wide, and his head snaps in my direction. “Granny Ruth? The psycho? She won’t even let you near her house. How are you supposed to even—“ He puts both hands up and gives a sarcastic frown. “You know what? I told myself that this was none of my business. I did. I said, ‘Cline, man, this is none of your business.’ But now you’ve roped my roommate into driving you, like, twenty hours to go see someone who won’t even speak to you.” He bounces a little on the word ‘speak,’ pulling his fists against his chest as his voice rises. “So now it’s my business. She’s using you, dude. Just like she does with everybody else.”
“It’s fourteen hours from Tennessee to North Carolina, actually,” I correct him.
“And I volunteered.” Elliot pushes the pressure gauge into his pocket and crosses his arms like that should be it. Final. Over.
But I know better.
Cline bends forward at the waist, his arms crossed and knees bent again before he stands up straight and yells, “Oh! You volunteered. A fourteen hour drive. Okay. That’s makes it okay. Got it. Well, wait right here while I go get my shit because I’m coming, too.”
I think, deep down, deep, deep down somewhere in my subconscious, I knew this was going to happen. It is why I’m not even the slightest bit surprised by the outburst. I’m actually quite amused.
As calmly as I can, I move to the rear of the vehicle and open the back door so I can slide my bag inside. Peeking around the side of the car, I make a “shoo” motion with my hand.
“Hurry up, then. We haven’t got all day. We’re wasting daylight.”
Cline’s anger is apparent in the flare of his nostrils. “I’m seriously coming.”
“I seriously don’t care.”
“I’m coming.”
“You already said that.” I walk around the car and over to where he’s still standing in his pajama pants. “You remember when you were little and your mom wouldn’t let you watch anything except movies from the eighties or before?” His eyes narrow and those nostrils flare again. “You’re like that asshole kid in the backseat of Adventures in Babysitting right now.”
“I watch whatever I want to now.” He says it like he’s so proud. It almost makes me laugh.
“Big man.”
“I’m totally coming on this trip.”
I sigh and wave a hand at the car. “That’s fine, because I didn’t have enough room in that bag for my Box Full of Fucks to Give. So would you go get packed so we can leave? You’re starting to annoy me.”
Elliot has been standing silently off to the side for the entire exchange, and finally he steps between us, placing a hand on my shoulder and one on Cline’s chest. “I can’t do this if you’re going to act like a couple of eight year olds. Both of you need to shut up. And I mean that in the nicest way possible.” He looks at me. “Please, get in the car.” He looks at Cline. “You have five minutes to pack or we’re leaving. I told my mom I’d be home for dinner.” He steps away cautiously then pulls the car keys from his pocket. “If the two of you start fighting, I will pull over and leave one of you on the side of the road. Swear to God.”