Page 16 of The Beach Shack Summer (Laguna Beach #2)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

T he DMV handbook lay on Stella’s bed, surrounded by the only clear space left in the house.

She’d been studying it in her room for three days—the kitchen table had become Meg’s unofficial office, covered in color-coded contracts and sticky notes.

Tyler knew she’d been studying because she kept leaving the handbook in increasingly obvious places—propped against the coffee maker between Meg’s files, balanced on his camera bag, once tucked into the sofa cushions.

“I’m ready,” she announced over breakfast, pushing her empty cereal bowl aside and clearing a small space among Meg’s papers. “Written test. Today.”

Tyler froze mid-chew. “Today?”

“I’ve memorized everything. Speed limits, right-of-way rules, parallel parking dimensions?—”

“You can’t memorize driving.”

“Watch me.” She flipped open the handbook to a random page.

“California Vehicle Code 21453(a): A driver facing a steady circular red signal shall stop at a marked limit line, but if none, before entering the crosswalk on the near side of the intersection or, if none, then before entering the intersection.”

“That’s... actually right.”

“I told you. I’m ready.”

Tyler set down his spoon, trying to ignore the way his chest tightened.

Three days. It had only been three days since she’d dropped the L-plates bomb, and now she wanted to take the test. In Sydney, Fiona had probably been teaching her road rules since she could walk.

Here, Tyler had spent three days alternating between reading horror stories about teen driving statistics and watching YouTube videos on “How to Teach Your Teenager to Drive Without Destroying Your Relationship.”

The videos hadn’t helped.

“Okay,” he said finally. “But we go to the DMV in Laguna Hills, not the one in?—”

“Why?”

“Less crowded.”

“You mean farther from cliffs and ocean roads.”

“That too.”

Stella grinned, and Tyler realized he’d been played once again. She’d probably known he’d pick the inland DMV. She’d probably researched all of them.

“Let me grab my keys,” Tyler said, then paused as his phone rang. “Hello? Oh, hi Natalie. Meg’s in the bathroom. On a call. Yes, in the bathroom. It’s a long story.”

He hung up and found Stella watching him with amusement. “Meg takes business calls in the bathroom now?”

“Best acoustics in the house, apparently.”

“This family is weird.”

“You’re part of this family.”

“Yeah, well.” But she was fighting a smile.

Three hours later, they sat in Tyler’s truck outside the DMV, Stella clutching a freshly printed learner’s permit with the expression of someone who’d just been handed nuclear launch codes.

“I can’t believe they just... gave it to me,” she said.

“You passed the test.”

“But still. This says I can operate a motor vehicle. With supervision,” she added quickly, catching his expression. “Calm down.”

“I’m calm.”

“Your knuckles are white and we’re still parked.”

Tyler forced his hands to relax on the steering wheel. “So. You want to...”

“Drive? Yes. That’s generally what one does with a learner’s permit.”

“Right. Yes. Of course.” He didn’t move.

“Tyler?”

“There’s a community college parking lot about a mile from here. Big. Empty on Saturdays. No obstacles.”

“Sounds perfect. ”

Neither of them moved.

“Are we going to sit here all day?” Stella asked finally.

“Just... give me a minute.”

“You’re literally more nervous than I am.”

“You’ve never seen yourself drive.”

“Neither have you!”

“Exactly!”

They sat for another moment, then Tyler started the engine. The drive to the parking lot felt like approaching a cliff edge—inevitable but terrifying.

The parking lot was indeed massive and empty, an ocean of asphalt with faded white lines and a few lonely light poles. Tyler parked in the middle of it all, approximately seventeen miles from the nearest obstacle.

“Okay,” he said. “Let’s go over the basics.”

“I know the basics.”

“Humor me.” He was stalling and they both knew it. “Mirrors first. Adjust your?—”

Stella was already adjusting the mirrors with the efficiency of someone who’d been thinking about this moment for years. She moved the seat forward, checked her blind spots, and placed her hands at ten and two.

“Seatbelt,” Tyler said.

“Already on.”

“Parking brake.”

“Released.”

“Okay. Now, the important thing is?— ”

“Tyler.” She turned to look at him, and for a moment she looked younger than sixteen. “I’ve got this. But I need you to trust me.”

Trust. Right. He trusted her. He just didn’t trust physics, other drivers, road conditions, weather patterns, or the fundamental chaos of the universe.

“Okay,” he said. “Start the engine.”

The truck rumbled to life. Stella’s hands tightened on the wheel.

“Now, ease off the brake—slowly—and just let it roll forward.”

The truck crept forward at approximately the speed of continental drift. Stella’s eyes were wide, focused on the empty expanse ahead like she was navigating a minefield.

“Good,” Tyler said, trying to keep his voice steady. “That’s good. You can give it a little gas.”

“Gas. Right.” She touched the accelerator like it might explode.

The truck lurched forward. Tyler’s hand shot out to grab the door handle.

“Sorry! Sorry. Too much?”

“Just... gentle. Like you’re petting a cat.”

“I don’t like cats.”

“Like you’re... adjusting Joey’s napkin display.”

That made her laugh, tension easing slightly. “Delicate. Got it.”

She tried again, and this time the truck moved forward smoothly. They crawled across the parking lot at five miles per hour, Stella gripping the wheel like it might escape.

“See? You’re driving,” Tyler said.

“This doesn’t count as driving. This is... aggressive sitting.”

“Everyone starts somewhere.”

“Did you start in a parking lot?”

“I started in Margo’s truck on the beach at dawn, but that’s illegal now.”

“Of course you did.” She pressed the accelerator a bit more, reaching a wild ten miles per hour. “This is actually... okay.”

“Try turning. Gentle movements.”

She turned the wheel like she was defusing a bomb. The truck responded, making a wide arc across the empty lot.

“I’m turning! Tyler, I’m turning!”

“You’re doing great.” And she was. The death grip on the wheel was loosening, her shoulders dropping from around her ears.

“Can I go faster?”

“Let’s master fifteen miles per hour first.”

“You’re no fun.”

“I’m responsible for keeping you alive.”

“Details.” But she kept the speed steady, making larger loops around the parking lot. “In Sydney, Mum’s boyfriend has this tiny car. Manual transmission. He tried to teach me once but I stalled it six times just getting out of the driveway.”

“Manual’s harder. This is good for learning. ”

“Plus it’s a tank. I could hit something and the truck would win.”

“Let’s not test that theory.”

“Spoilsport.” She was relaxing now, starting to look around instead of laser-focusing on the asphalt ahead. “This is actually kind of... nice?”

“Just driving?”

“Yeah. It’s quiet. Peaceful. No one asking about napkin angles or counting my arm touches or—“ She caught herself.

“Counting what?”

“Nothing. Hey, can I try parking?”

Tyler recognized a deflection when he heard one, but decided to let it go. “Sure. See those lines? Pick a spot.”

She chose a space approximately forty feet from any other marking, then proceeded to approach it like she was docking a spacecraft. The truck ended up mostly between the lines, only slightly crooked.

“Nailed it,” she announced.

“It’s... not bad.”

“Not bad? It’s perfect!”

“It’s diagonal.”

“Artistically diagonal.”

Tyler laughed despite himself. “Try again. This time, use your mirrors to check the lines.”

She backed out with excruciating care, then tried again. This attempt was better—only slightly crooked.

“Improvement,” Tyler said.

“I’m a natural. ”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

“Okay, let’s try some real roads,” Tyler said after her third perfect parallel parking job. “Just around the neighborhood.”

“Finally!” Stella checked her mirrors with exaggerated care. “I’m ready for the mean streets of suburban Laguna.”

“Easy there, Speed Racer. Residential only.”

She pulled out of the lot smoothly, confidence high from her parking success. The first few blocks went perfectly—complete stops, proper signals, staying centered in her lane.

“See? Natural driver.” She relaxed her death grip on the wheel slightly. “Maybe I should try the highway next.”

“Let’s master right turns first.”

“Right turns are easy—” She started to turn, checking her left but not her right.

A jogger appeared in the crosswalk. Another car swerved around them, honking loud and long.

“brAKE!” Tyler said sharply.

Stella slammed the brakes and threw her hands up, covering her head. The truck lurched to a stop. The jogger waved and kept running, clearly used to tourist drivers.

“Oh God. Oh God, I almost—” Her hands were shaking as she gripped the wheel again. “I didn’t see—I could have?—“

“Pull over.” Tyler’s voice was calm now, steady. “Right here. Just ease to the curb. ”

She managed to get the truck to the side of the road before her hands started really shaking. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I thought I checked?—“

“Hey.” Tyler put the truck in park for her. “Look at me.”

She kept staring straight ahead. “I almost hit someone.”

“But you didn’t. You stopped. That’s what matters.”

“Because you yelled!”

“I hate this.” The words came out fierce. “I hate feeling stupid.”

“You’re not stupid. You’re learning.”

“Same thing.” She pressed her palms against her eyes.

“Stella.” Tyler waited until she looked at him. “You want to hear about my first driving disaster?”

“No.”

“I’m going to tell you anyway. Backed Margo’s truck straight into Bernie’s newsstand. Completely demolished it. Papers everywhere. Bernie standing there watching his entire business scattered across PCH.”

“And you know what Margo said?”

“What?”