“Do you guys want a cooler for the ride? I’ve got some extra ice packs. We could throw in some water and snacks in case you guys get hungry.” Dad eyes the garage, likely already picking which of the dozen coolers we own that he’s going to send with us.
“I think we’ll be okay,” I tell him.
“You guys don’t have to stop at gas stations with an electric car,” Dad objects. “I’ve heard these things can go upward of six hours.”
“We’ll be okay,” Nessie says, and though her voice is verging on condescending, Dad barely blinks. He’s still debating what to fill the cooler with. Stubbornness is a Robinson traitm written into our DNA.
Mom hugs me again. “Have fun before getting to California, okay?” Mom is our free spirit, a trait she shares with Vanessa and one I envy furiously because I don’t possess a single ounce of it. She holds my hands, giving me a reassuring smile that serves like a balm on my growing nerves.
I assumed freshman year would be the hardest—pulling off the Band-Aid and moving across the country to attend Brighton, where our parents are both alma maters. However, this year feels harder, like I’m nearing the end of summers to have the excuse to return home.
Nessie wraps her arm around Mom and me, holding us—binding us. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure she has fun.”
Mom sniggers, the planes of her cheeks creasing with laugh lines that she always points out with dismay in each photo that’s ever taken of her. I love those laugh lines. They feel like a map of our childhood—blanket forts and makeovers and drinking too much pink lemonade that we always have in our fridge. “Look out for each other.” She kisses Vanessa’s forehead and then mine. “Be safe and be smart, my beautiful girls.”
My throat is tight with emotions that I don’t know how to articulate. Vanessa weaves her fingers with mine, extending a sense of comfort and strength, and reminding me how as hard as it is to leave—I’m beyond grateful that I always have her.
Dad sidles up beside Mom, his arms extending along her shoulders and mine, security to her like Nessie is to me. “You guys are going to have your own rooms at each hotel, right?” he asks, his voice lowered as his brows knit with unease and doubt.
“Definitely,” Nessie assures him, but her voice is all bravado and lacks the sincerity I wanted to hear.
“And I’m serious about the beads,” he adds.
The rest of my emotions ease as laughter bubbles out of my throat.
“I’m serious,” he says.
Vanessa’s objections wash away as she looks at me, and then she too starts to laugh, our hands still linked as we slowly back toward the car. Dad’s grip on Mom’s shoulders tightens as they remain by where our luggage had been.
“You sure you don’t want the cooler?” he asks.
“Positive. But we love you for offering. I promise, no one will get dehydrated.” I smile.
He sighs, resigning over the decision though I can see he wants to argue his point, likely thinking of how we might need it in case we get lost, the car breaks down, or a dozen other possibilities that my mind races through like I’m on the same telepathic loop.
“We’ll let you know when we hit New Orleans,” Nessie says, taking another step back so the barrier between us and home grows.
Cooper grins as we near the hood of the Tesla then moves to open the rear passenger door, which slides up instead of outward.
Vanessa’s jaw drops. “This car is insane.”
I climb into the SUV that smells like it was driven off the lot this morning and wave goodbye to our parents.
“This is going to be so much fun,” Vanessa says, running her hands over the tops of her thighs.
I suck in a breath as our house falls out of sight, hoping beyond hope that my sister’s right.
2
Tyler
I don’t know how Cooper talked me into this nightmare.
Driving across the country with him will be a stretch of my patience—adding Chloe and Vanessa Robinson is guaranteed to be a train wreck. For starters, Chloe looks at me like she’d rather claw my eyes out than acknowledge my presence.
Apparently, her regret for kissing me freshman year is a level red alert.
I’ve tried to recall the details of that night numerous times to understand what happened that has her always making excuses to leave whenever I show up; to see if I’d done something that warrants her reaction. But our kiss was two minutes and hardly anything to get worked up over. Likely, it’s because she was expecting a call or promises to spend every waking hour with her like some freshman couples do as they explore their new freedoms and get their first taste of an adult relationship.
I’d been at a party with Cooper, and he’d gotten hammered with only three shots, a perpetual lightweight. Chloe had been outside, nursing a beer and staring up at the sky. I’d formally met her an hour before that when Coop had introduced her and Vanessa.
I’d made a joke about the beer being flat. She’d smiled, and when I’d asked what she was doing, she pointed at the inky sky and told me she’d found Camelopardalis, and thanks to years of learning Latin, I laughed, positive she was trying to blow me off or sound like a genius because I knew Camelopardalis translated to giraffe. When I laughed, so did she. And I no longer cared if she was trying to sound smart or telling me to get lost, I closed the distance between us and stared blankly up at the sky.
“It’s one of the hardest constellations for me to see, but I think the beer helped,” she told me. “The giraffe was fairly unknown and exotic in the seventeenth century, so its species name refers to it having a body similar to a camel but the colors of a leopard, so they called them camel-leopard. That cluster of faint stars is supposed to be the spots on the giraffe.”
She’d had too many details for it to be a lie, and still, it seemed implausible and strangely fascinating as my buzz waned with another drink of water, my attention focused on her rather than the sky. And when she glanced back at me, her light brown hair blew in the breeze and seemed to charge something inside of her that made her green eyes brighter and fuller, and then she leaned forward and kissed me. It had been a gentle kiss—a question that I answered ardently with a swipe of my tongue across the seal of her lips. But before I could taste her, a group of guys stumbled outside, laughing as they lit a joint, and Chloe straightened, her smile and that spark both gone. She disappeared inside like Cinderella, only when I saw her again, she wasn’t eager or relieved that I’d found her. No, instead she ignored me like she had no idea who I was.
That was fine with me.
I didn’t want drama or a relationship. I was finally out from under my father’s thumb, and I wanted to relax and have fun and not have to worry about who was watching me or what anyone thought.
So, how did I get here? Driving across the country like a fucking chauffeur for a girl I kissed once who avidly avoids me, her sister who I am only kind of friends with, and my teammate?
That, my friends, is the ugly side of giving a shit.
Not about the twins, or my insignificant kiss with Chloe, or caring about the daggers she shoots my way—no, this is about friendship. My friendship with Cooper—lightweight, in bed by ten, all-around nice guy—Sutton, who is the closest thing I’ve ever known to a sibling. We met freshman year through football. He was serious, focused, and determined while I was pissing away my time and dodging calls from my parents about my missed classes, and when Coach Harris told me I had to either focus or ride the pine, it took everything in me not to tell him to shove it up his arsehole. I was tired of expectations and was about to quit when Cooper made some bullshit excuse for me and started picking me up every day to ensure I’d be at practice on time. That escalated to going to the gym and tutoring me when I fell dangerously close to failing a mathematics class I should have been acing.