Page 22 of The Fast Lane
Theo, dumbly, gave me control of the music, probably as an apology for bringing Terra along. I made him pay for it, too. For the entire four-and-a-half-hour drive. Two boy bands’ songs. On repeat.
I fidgeted in my seat. “I don’t like surprises.”
“You love surprises.”
Which was true. “I?—”
“You just didn’t like Terra.”
“There was nothing wrong with Terra,” I said. Very maturely, I might add.
“You told me she pronounced her Ts too much.”
“Nobody pronounces the T in exactly. That’s weird.” So much for mature. “As your friend, I need to have your back. Did you really want all those hard Ts in your life?”
He laughed. “Sure.”
“Anyway.” I patted my phone. “I have my boy band playlist all ready to go.”
“No. Driver picks.”
I groaned. “It’s Rush, isn’t it? It’s always Rush.”
“Hey, there’s some Dream Theater and Porcupine Tree mixed in. For variety.”
“Oh. Goody.” I slumped in resignation. “Only two thousand long, long miles to go.” He grinned. And dang it, I found I didn’t care about the music as long as I got to see that see grin.
NINE
Note to self:
Change my phone number.
DO NOT TELL MOM THE NEW NUMBER.
Trying to doze off to drum solos—accompanied by Theo’s rhythmic tapping on the steering wheel—was a challenge but nothing I couldn’t handle. I was in the middle of a lovely dream where a man with smiling eyes and nice hands was about to confess his undying love for me when I jerked awake. My phone was ringing.
“Is it eleven forty-five?”
The ringing stopped and immediately started back up.
Theo chuckled. “How did you guess?”
With a sigh, I answered. “Hi, Mom.”
The phone calls had started the day I moved out of my parents’ house and into my duplex in town. My mother called me twice a day—11:45a.m. and 8:00p.m. sharp. It was in my best interest to answer, or she’d have every state trooper in Texas hunting us down.
“Your little phone picture thing seems to be moving very fast,” she said in way of a greeting.
Frankie had been a hall monitor when he was in school, a job he’d taken very seriously. Furthermore, he’d always been the kid who ratted us out when we got in trouble. I mostly looked past his need to follow the rules. But he’d crossed a line a few months ago when he showed Mom how to stalk us by using the GPS on all our phones.
He was getting the best worst Christmas present ever this year.
“That’s what happens when you’re in a car. They go real fast.”
She huffed in annoyance. “Don’t get smart with me.”
We passed a sign for a rest stop ahead. Theo flicked the blinker on, and we pulled off onto the exit ramp.