Page 24 of Up in Smoke

“Holy shit.” He squeezes his eyes shut with a deep chuckle. “That’s hilarious. And same.”

“Rock, paper, scissors,” Savannah suggests from the back seat.

Blythe turns and starts right in on the immature, but effective, game that will decide whose playlist gets the aux.

Since hanging around the whole group last night, I’ve already grown accustomed to their lively vibe around each other. They’re comfortable, and I sense a deep trust and unique brand of real understanding between them all. They haven’t given me a single break from cracking up over their squabbling, either.

I rub my freshly glossed lips together and take several glances toward the passenger seat. Tripp is in light-wash jeans. His flat bill cap is decked out in school colors, and an old Cougs jersey covers his torso. Circa 2000, if I had to guess. I’ve seen one just like it that was gifted to my mom from the coaching staff around that era.

“Should I have sent you a fit check before we left or do you approve?”

Caught red-handed.

I swipe the grown-out bangs from my most likely blushing face and purse my lips. “No, it’s a solid getup. The chain’s a little slutty, though.”

I expect him to scoff and defend himself, but he props his elbow on the center console and turns in his seat to face me with a smirk instead. “I can take it off if it’s too much for you to handle.”

“No need,” I assure him with an amused huff. Although, it’s not a bad idea. I’d rather not drool over a thin chain of glinting gold against his tan neck until he comes at me with a classiceyes up here, babe.“Not my cup of tea.”

That’s a lie, of course. I was a certified cleat chaser in my heyday. I’d have folded in seconds for a chance to have a chain like that dangling above me.

“Lose the chain.” He nods sarcastically. “Noted. While I’m at it, I’ll switch hats and go with a pearl snap shirt next time.”

That, I could handle without having to cross my legs. I think.

“Whatever blows your dress up,” I reply with an eye roll. That makes him smile, and I let out an easy laugh. “So, next time . . . like we’re going to be doing this again? Bold assumption.”

I flip the blinker just before we take the last turn out of Westridge. The stretch of dirt roads between this small town and the highway is lined with lush green grass and miles ofuntouched beauty. It’s refreshing, and I’m reminded of why I chose to live here each time I take this drive.

Tripp parts his lips with a reply on the tip of his tongue, but he’s cut off by back seat bickering.

“Okay,wait. Five out of seven,” Blythe says desperately.

I peek at the girls in the rearview mirror. Savannah shakes her head of perfectly blown-out brunette curls while scrolling on her phone.

“Not a chance. You lost, and we’re going to get real familiar with Ariana for the next hour and a half.”

She holds her phone out, and Tripp takes it to plug it in. My car is far from modern, but I like it that way. No Bluetooth or Apple CarPlay sucks until I remember I have no car payment.

Rusty Rose, my little red bug since I was sixteen, gets along just fine. You’d never guess from the recent paint job and detail that she’s a ’97. I take impeccable care of her, and a little aux cord never hurt anybody.

“I can handle Ariana. It could be worse,” Blythe sighs with a dramatic slump. “Tripp’s grunge is positively depressing.”

“Facts,” Tripp jokes without looking up from Savannah’s phone screen.

“Oh, thanks for letting us tag along, by the way,” Blythe says to me.

She reaches her hand to the front seat and lightly scratches my forearm with her short pink nails as a gesture of appreciation. She’s a tough cookie, don’t get me wrong. But she balances it all out with a kind disposition, and I like her authenticity a lot.

I shrug with a smile. “Anytime, girl. I’m not with you on the grunge slander, though. I got my first speeding ticket going eighty-five while blasting ‘Man in the Box.’”

The girls burst into laughter, and I catch Tripp’s approving grin out of the corner of my eye.

“Seems like you’re locked into the group now,” he points out. “So yeah, I think we’ll be doing this again.”

That creates a comforting warmth under my skin. Making friends was never much of a struggle for me growing up. Socializing or going on side quests with a group of pals like the one we’re on right now was a common occurrence.

That natural element of camaraderie faded as I grew older. I regret not fostering those genuine friendships because I was too focused on keeping the undivided attention of whichever loser boyfriend I had in my pocket at the time.

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