Page 27 of Not Made to Last

“Avocado!” he almost shouts. “The fruit of testicles!”

We lose it. Completely. Our joint laughter fills every inch of the cab, every piece of my soul. It’s the uncontrollable, unbreathable type of laughter that has our eyes watering, our need for air forced to come second to our need for momentary joy.

“Want some balls with your nachos?!” he squeals. I kick out my legs, my hand to my stomach to ease the ache. Max does the same, his arms crossed over his waist, and swear, if our seatbelts didn’t restrain us, we’d double over.

“Oh, no! Ollie’s coming!” he whispers, and we immediately face forward, sit taller, and school our features.

We manage to keep it that way until Olivia’s on the road again. Max breaks first, his not-so-quiet snicker ruining my facade. Liv looks between us as if we’ve lost our damn minds. Then Max busts out a laugh, and I’m right there with him again.“What’s so funny?” Liv asks, and when I chance a peek in her direction, she’s attempting to hide her grin.

“It’s nothing,” I assure. At the same time, Max shouts, “Avocado testicles!” He can’t stop laughing, and every time he reaches that peak of no return, I end up riding the wave with him. And sure, it’s beyond ridiculous how funny we find this, but boys and balls, man… it never gets old.

“You ask,” Max hisses the moment Olivia gets back in the car.

She sets the bag of food on my lap like she’s done many times before, and I turn to Max, shaking my head, and whisper back, “No, you ask!”

“No, you!” Max returns.

I press my lips tight, and I shake my head more.

“Ask me what?” Olivia says, both hands on the wheel as she looks between us.

I motion for Max to go ahead, and after a sigh, he rushes out, “Timothy wants to know if he can buy us dinner.”

Liv’s eyes narrow on mine. “I told you not to engage?—”

“He engaged with me!” I cut in. “I won’t pretend I don’t hear him. Besides, I’m hungry. My stomach feels like it’s eating itself.”

“Then you should probably go to a doctor,” Max chimes in, and Liv smirks as if she already knows what’s coming. “It’s not normal for a stomach to digest itself because of a mechanism which regulates gastric secretion.”

I scrunch my nose. “That sounds… interesting.”

“Do you want to see what stomach lining looks?—”

“No!” Olivia and I say at the same time.

Max shrugs, leaning forward. “So? Can he?”

“Yeah, can I?” I repeat, focusing on Olivia. “We can pick it up and take it to our spot.”

“Our spot?” Liv echoes.

“You’re the only person I’ve ever taken there, so yes. Our spot.” Besides, after what happened last time we were there, I can nevernotthink of it as our spot. “And if we hang out for a bit, we can catch the sunset.”

“How romantic,” Max giggles, and Olivia gives him a pointed look before an alert comes through on her phone. She’s quick to check it, then tap it a few times. “I’m picking up an order from the diner,” she says, then turns to Max. “I’ll get you those cinnamon balls you like. You can have them in the car.”

“But what about Timothy? He’s the hungry one.”

Liv puts the car in reverse and backs out of the spot, murmuring, “I’m sure Timothy has food at home.”

I do. Lots of it. But that’s not the point. Still, I keep my disappointment in check and turn to Max. “Sorry, bud.”

“It’s okay,” he assures, but it’s clear in both our expressions that it’s not. “You tried, and that’s all you can do.”

Tryingis just another word for failing, and I’m not big on it.

Like I said: I failed once. I won’t do it again.

15

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