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Chapter Twenty-Nine

Dylan

S carlett stays true to her word and is rocking the most butt-ugly snap bracelet when she picks me up for school the next morning. Bigger and tackier than I imagined—and my imagination had painted a pretty unflattering visual.

“Holy shit.” I eye her wrist. “That thing’s gonna need its own seat in homeroom.”

She flits a cool glance at the bracelet. “It sounds like you’re making fun of my classy wrist accessory, Dylan Braun.”

“No judgment. Just saying it’s big.”

She starts the car. The turquoise and rainbow colored horse bobs against her wrist as she shifts into drive. “You were supposed to say it has a classy, timeless appeal.”

When I let out a quiet huff, she glances over at me.

“Glad you think it’s amusing, because everyone else is going to think I’ve flipped my lid. I’m kind of known for having an awesome sense of style.”

“Not your humble personality?”

She sighs. “I just want to make sure you appreciate my level of commitment here—going through with this to prove you can trust me when I give you my word on something.” Her eyes meet mine. “For the record, I would not put myself through this for just anyone.”

Weird thing is I know she’s telling the truth. Still, seems like she’s being kind of dramatic.

“You realize you’re wearing a My Little Horse bracelet for a day—not sacrificing your first born, right?”

“Funny. If I’d known everything out of your mouth was going to be so snarky, I wouldn’t have been so eager to get you to talk.” She jerks to a stop at a traffic light and flashes a semi-playful smile. “Can we go back to grunting, ten-words-a-day Dylan? I think I liked him better.”

“He’s not going anywhere,” I tell her seriously. “You’re good.”

The light changes and we jerk forward. Scarlett is hands down the world's worst driver.

“I’m serious, Dylan. If I’m going to wear this thing all day, you’re not allowed to be all broody. At least for today. No clamming up and being a dick to me.” She looks over and the car starts veering towards the center of the road. She faces forward and straightens it with a jerk. “Also, it’s ‘pony’.”

“Huh?”

“My Little Pony, ” she corrects. “Not My Little Horse… God. Unbelievable.”

“Horse. Pony. Same thing.”

She taps the brake, and my seatbelt locks. I’m gonna have a permanent diagonal bruise across my torso, just from riding shotgun with her every day.

She throws me a look that locks me in place almost as firmly as the seatbelt across my chest. “Is Sleepytime Walker the same as Sleepwalker ?”

There's a beat of silence.

“Got it.” I roll my eyes, biting off a grin with my teeth against my lower lip. “My Little Pony it is.”