Page 24 of Anything (Mayberry University #1)

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

A few days later, I’m writing a paper for Bible class, tapping my foot to Forrest Frank, pajama shorts on. I’ll never know how people do their work in constricting pants. I study the black and white prints of my family that hang above my bed as I consider what to write about covenants.

Ding . Ooh, a text from Levi is a rarity and always read immediately.

Hey, friend.

Can I drive you to the airport next week?

An image pops into my head—against my will, of course—of playing the airport game with Levi.

When Mom sees PDA at the airport, she clasps her hands at her chest and lives their bittersweet moments vicariously, as if watching strangers hello and goodbye is better than a movie.

She says couples can get away with way more PDA at the airport, hence the name the airport game.

So corny. I forcibly dispose of that daydream and answer the text that started this line of thought.

Thanks, but my flight leaves from DFW.

Dallas is a two-hour drive away and far cheaper to fly from than the tiny airport nearby.

I’m going to take a bus all the way to Dallas to save money—a lot of money—but all the bus stops mean the journey will cost me many hours.

On the bright side, I’ll probably get my homework done before I even get to the airport.

I’m flying out too, remember?

Send the details for both of your flights?

His insistence is sweet. He’d save me several hours, not to mention how much more comfortable his ride would be.

Still, the odds of our flights being at the same time are next to none.

He must be planning to change his flights to align with mine.

And this late? It’ll cost him. He’s impossible …

and the offer is too good to pass up. But how could I manage this without sitting in his front seat?

Sophie. She hasn’t bought her flights yet, always so last minute, but I bet she can be convinced to come with us.

Pretty sure she can use her mom’s credit card for whatever she likes.

Thank you. So generous of you.

Can Sophie come too?

Nerves fill my gut. We’ve never covered the I-don’t-ride-in-the-front-seat rule. Then again, he’s a smart guy, and I actively avoid riding shotgun every time he drives our group somewhere.

Of course. Tell her I expect a road trip playlist for the ages .

A hauntingly beautiful adaptation of “Someone Like You” floats in from next door. I can’t bear to interrupt, so I wait until she putters out.

“Hey, Adele,” I call.

And now Sophie’s in my doorway, beaming.

“Can I just say I love living next door to you?”

She laughs.

“Also, Levi offered to drive us to Dallas next week. You still planning to go home?”

“Girl. Yes. Send me your flights, and I’ll make sure mine work for your drive.”

“One condition. You have to ride shotgun.”

She bends toward me. “Have you lost it? You could sit there and stare at his face for two hours. Twice! No way am I going to let you sit in the back and play third wheel.”

I know the loss. I have taken a strong liking to that face. “You ride shotgun both ways or you can’t come.”

She stares at me, incredulous, but doesn’t press. “You’re insane.”

I nod, oddly comforted. She says it like a sad fact, not to taunt or tease. I’m so tired of pretending to be normal, so her directness is a balm, removing the need for my cracking facade.

She waves her hand. “Fine, but you’re breaking it to Mr. Dreamboat. He’ll think I’m trying to steal him from you or something. Acca-awkward.”

I desperately hope she never tries. She’s beautiful. And functional.

I pinch the bridge of my nose and consider the real hurdle. How do I explain to Levi why I never sit in a guy’s front seat? Everything is so complicated and I’m exhausted. My head closes in on itself just imagining telling him the whole truth. It would be so much worse than with Tess?—

I shake my head. No crying right now. Squash it down.

“I’ll tell him,” I finally concede. “He says he expects a road trip playlist for the ages.”

“Ooh, yes. It’s gonna be stellar. Just wait.”

I’m sure it will be … if she remembers to book her flights.

She spins away, humming.

I chuckle at her version of “Come Fly with Me.” Sophie has a knack for pulling me out of my Eeyore moods. Always by accident, but I’ll take it.