“That’s why I can’t wait,” I tell him, because he’s exactly right. After we tell our parents, we’re done with having to tell the truth. Everyone that matters will know. No more secrets. Even the thought of this is enough to make me grin as I maneuver my way into the road, beginning the short ride to our parents’ house. “By the way,” I add, “this time all the talking is on you.”
Tyler laughs again, leaning back in the seat as he places his hand on my thigh. I think he does it without even thinking about it, but on my end it’s awfully distracting. “No problem,” he says. “It’s your dad I’m worried about most. He hates me enough as it is. Wait until he hears I’ve been sleeping with his daughter.” Scoffing, he squeezes my thigh tighter, and I quite literally almost crash into a parked car.
“Yeah, do me a favor and don’t mention that to him,” I murmur, throwing Tyler a sideways warning glance as I regain control of the vehicle. He’s smirking, though, and so am I. We both know my dad would kill him if he were to find out. Dad was never happy with the fact that sometimes I’d spend the night at Dean’s, and he liked Dean.
“So how’d you like me to word it?” Tyler asks, angling his body to face me as I drive. He’s got a stupid expression on his face, almost giddy in a way, and he dramatically clears his throat and uses his free hand to sync movements to his words. “Mr. Munro, may I take a second out of your holy time to inform you that I totally have the hots for your one and only daughter, who, by the way, is no longer a minor and can make her own decisions,” he says, his voice mockingly solemn as he adopts a sophisticated tone. “Also, David Munro, your stubborn and persistent and intelligent and gorgeous daughter has an incredible ass.”
I pull around the corner onto Deidre Avenue, rolling my eyes at Tyler. He’s on the verge of bursting into laughter, but he’s biting it back. “Well?” he urges. “You think he’d like that?”
“Let’s not take that route either,” I say. Tyler finally gives up on the joke, letting out the laugh he’s been suppressing, and I can’t help but think about how nice this feels. The two of us laughing right now, of all times. I like that we can make the situation seem humorous, even when it’s far from it, and I like that we’re only minutes from the house, yet I don’t feel nervous at all.
Only seconds later, we pass Dean’s house. It’s impossible to ignore the way the atmosphere in the car immediately thickens. Both Tyler and I glance over at the house at the exact same time, our eyes never leaving it as we drive past. Dean’s car is parked on the drive. So is his dad’s truck. The one Dean and I once wrecked the tires of. As though Tyler feels guilty, he takes his hand off my thigh.
“You think he’s in there right now?” he asks, voice quiet.
“I don’t know,” I say.
Swallowing hard, I shift my eyes back to the avenue ahead and keep driving, pressing my foot down on the accelerator even harder so that I can get away from Dean’s house faster. I refrain from looking back in my rearview mirror. I only keep on driving. From now on, I’ll start tracing a different route between my mom’s place and my dad’s place. A route that bypasses Dean’s house entirely.
It’s after nine by now and the sky is continuing to darken, but our house is well lit as I pull up behind Tyler’s car out on the sidewalk. Dad’s Lexus and Ella’s Range Rover occupy the drive, the same way they always do, forcing us kids to use the road. Jamie’s car is missing, of course, because of that dented bumper he mentioned.
“I’m guessing they’re home?” I joke, nodding through the windshield toward the house. Every single light possible must be switched on, and the entire place looks like a giant light bulb. Even the light in the room I sleep in when I stay over is on, which stresses me out for a split second as I wonder why the hell that is.
“Hey, I’m just glad my baby got here in one piece,” Tyler says. He points to his Audi, smiling with satisfaction as he pushes open my car door and steps out. Grabbing his bag from the backseat, he heads off without me to circle his vehicle, probably searching for any suspicious scratches that might have resulted from lousy handling as it was shipped from one coast to the other.
Sighing, I cut the engine and slide out of my car, which looks like a piece of junk next to Tyler’s, and then glance between the house and my stepbrother. Now I’m starting to feel a little nervous. “So are you coming?”
“Uh-huh,” Tyler says, a little spaced out. Sliding the strap of his duffel bag over his shoulder for what feels like the hundredth time today, he pats the hood of his beloved car and then walks over to join me on the lawn. Slowly, his lips quirk up into a small smile, and at the exact same time, we both turn to face the house.