1642734778_punk-57-pdf

But then I see the passenger side door swing open, and I jerk, startled.
Dane hops in the truck and shoots me an easy smile as he sits back,
looking at ease. “Netflix and chill?”
I scoff and turn my keys in the ignition. “Get out.”
The engine rumbles to life with a smooth purr that I’ve worked hard to
maintain. My cousin left me this truck when he was “indisposed” for three
years, but now that he’s around, he hasn’t come to claim it, so I guess it’s
mine. I was grateful when he passed the keys to me all those years ago. I
hadn’t wanted to ask my dad for a car when the time came.
“So I had this date last night,” Dane goes on, ignoring my order. “Do
you remember that girl from Sigma Kappa Whatever? She was at the gig
last night, and everything was going great, both of us eye-fucking for like
four frickin’ hours…” He pauses and turns to me, his voice turning urgent.
“She takes me home, dude, and I’m sitting in the living room while she’s in
the bathroom, and I’m so ready, because she’s so hot, right? And who walks
in?”
“Dane.” I close my eyes, willing him to shut the fuck up.
“Her mom, dude!” he bursts out. “Her mom in her light pink nightie
with legs for days. And let me tell you, man…Stacy’s mom has got it going
on?”
I can’t help myself. I break out in a laugh at the song reference and
pinch the bridge of my nose, tired but a fraction more relaxed, even if I’d
never admit it to him.
Such an idiot.
Dane is twenty-one, but he never quite figured himself out after high
school. He still lives in his parents’ house, loves to make music, but he’s in
no hurry to be someone by a certain age. I wish I could let things go as
easily as he does.