“You can’t say he’s not a good actor, Zo.” I purse my lips and tilt my head before I disagree.
“I very much can.”
“What about Donnie Darko?” he asks, and I tip my head to the roof of the Jeep, Zander’s smile no longer a small thing but taking over his whole face.
“Donnie Darko?! Are you kidding me? That movie was absolute shit.”
“It’s one of the greats,” he says, arguing his point that has zero value.
He’s totally doing it to rile me up.
And it’s totally working.
“Oh my god, shut up. You didn’t even like that movie. You just thought it would make you look cool if you did.” He smiles as he stares off at the road.
We both know I’m telling the truth.
“Lies.”
“I’m totally right. We asked you what it was about, and you spent ten minutes not making any sense, mumbling about choices and dimensions and a big bunny. It was insanity.”
“It’s a great movie. I can’t help that you two were too slow to pick up on the true meaning.”
“What about Tony? Because he’s smarter than you and me combined, and he has no idea what it’s about.” His lips tip up again before he answers.
“Tony is too black and white to enjoy a movie like that. I’m all grey.”
“Yeah, you’re as grey as Luna is, all sunshine and rainbows and good vibes.”
He doesn’t reply, keeping that smile as he does, mostly because he knows I’m right about this, too.
The Davidson kids are as morally gray as Finding Nemo.
Silence lasts for a few minutes as the song ends before Zee reaches over, grabs my hand, and brushes a rough thumb over the back of it.
“Whoever you hate, Zoe, I hate too.”
And for some reason, that means more to me than most anything he’s said on this whole trip.
Because finding someone who can be irrationally mad at someone just because you told them to be and can give you killer orgasms?
I don’t know if you can legally let a man like that go without a fight.
Even if you’re only fighting yourself.
THIRTY-FIVE
HOW YOU GET THE GIRL
-ZOE-
“Can you grab my wallet for me?” Zee asks an hour later, as we approach a toll in North Carolina. I’m in a better mood, the overcast skies having burnt off to sun and warmth as we drive and my playlist moving to happier songs.
“What?”
“I need cash. I have some in there.”
“I can—”
“Swear to fuck, you offer to pay, I’m pulling over and spanking your ass.”
I stop for a full beat, contemplating.
That could be interesting.
Zee stares at the roof.
“Jesus fuck, she likes that,” he murmurs to himself. Then he looks at me. “We’ll dig into that later. Right now, get me my wallet, baby.”
My mind is too scrambled to argue, so I do as he asks.
“Get me two singles.”
I open the leather bifold and look in, grabbing two singles and handing them over.
But then I stop, my hands frozen.
I recognize something.
I carefully pull out a folded photo strip that I instantly recognize, unfolding it and staring at it the whole time Zee deals with the toll person.
“Here, change,” he says, holding his hand out to me.
I don’t look.
“Zo?” he asks, then he stops.
I assume he looks at me, but I don’t even move my eyes from where I’m staring.
“Where . . . Where did you get this?” I ask, looking at it.
It’s from my birthday party years ago, Zoe’s Sweet 16 written in a loopy font from the personalized service.
It’s a film strip.
My parents had rented one of those photo booths, and I made sure I got photos with everyone that night, including my best friend’s older brother, who, now that I think of it, came home from school for the party.
He came home from school to attend my sweet sixteen.
“Your party.”
“I know it was my party. It literally says it on the bottom.” I look to see he’s driving, eyes on the road.
“Then what are you asking?” he says.
I pause, unsure.
It’s strange how he’s barely looking at me, barely engaging in a conversation, almost like he’s nervous that I found this.
“Why is it in your wallet?”
It’s three photos.
One, we both have our tongues out.
The next, I remember Zee was tickling me, and I was laughing.
The third is cemented in my mind as the best part about the entire party that I begged my parents for months to throw me because it was what everyone else was doing.
In that third one, Zee’s lips are pressed to my cheek.
Nothing scandalous, nothing inappropriate. It’s the same way he’d do to Luna or how Tony would do to me as his wife’s best friend.
But I remember in my sixteen-year-old head, it was everything.
I also remember rummaging everywhere the next morning in tears, looking for this damn photo.
“Zander, how do you have this? It was gone after my party.” There’s a smile on his lips.
“I took it from the machine.”
I let time pass, waiting for him to tell me more, looking at the strip again.
It’s yellowed with age, well over ten years old at this point, the center where it was folded fraying, but it’s still all there.
Me and Zee.
Even then, it was Zee and me.
“Why do you still have it?” I ask, my voice low now.
“I like looking at it sometimes.”
I like looking at it sometimes.
I don’t know what to say.
As always, Zee does.
He reaches out, putting a hand on my thigh and squeezing.
“You were always mine, Zoe. Even then. Even before we knew it, you were mine.”
An echo of my own thoughts.
I fold up the photo, slipping it back into his wallet carefully before he takes it, puts it in the console, and grabs my hand. He pulls it to his mouth, his eyes still locked to the road, and presses his lips to my fingers.
“Always mine,” he says.
THIRTY-SIX
THE ARCHER
-ZOE-
“It’s our last night,” Zander says, tossing his bag on the bed and gently placing mine on the white duvet.
In this fantasy world, I think I could fall for Zander with that move alone, the way he takes such care of my things.
But tomorrow is reality.
Tomorrow, we’re back in Springbrook Hills.
Tomorrow is my interview for a job I was tepid about before I went on this road trip, and now I’m so overly confused about it that I don’t know what to do.
I know in my gut this isn’t my dream job. It’s not something I would love, something that would bring me utter, all-consuming joy.
And before, I was fine with that.
But now . . . I can’t help but wonder what’s the point of living if you’re not working toward all-consuming joy in every moment?