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“We should get tacos. Do you guys want tacos? Who’s driving my car?”
“I’m driving. We can get tacos,” André said.
Nikki shot him a surprised look and he shook his head. “We’re not getting tacos.”
She snorted.
“Please don’t crash my car,” Ryan pleaded from the back.
“You don’t want me to crash your car?”
“Nooo,” came the mournful reply.
“What if I just crash it a little bit?”
“I’ll be so sad,” Ryan replied.
“Okay, I won’t crash it,” André said.
“Thank you. André’s the best.”
Nikki faced the window and tried not to laugh.
What had this night become?
“Check the glovebox for his registration,” André said quietly. “Maybe his address is on there.”
She rifled through Ryan’s papers and found the address. Then she plugged it into André’s phone.
But André didn’t go that direction. Instead, he headed towards Avondale.
“You don’t have to take me home first,” she told him.
The look he gave her said she was an idiot.
“You’re going to need help getting him home,” she pointed out.
André glanced in the rearview mirror. “Nah. We’ll manage. Won’t we, Ryan?”
“André, you’d make a great shortstop. And, Nikki, you could sing the national anthem,” Ryan slurred from the back. Then he rolled the window down and hung his head out like a dog.
Nikki lifted her eyebrows at André, feeling like her point had been made.
And what did he do?
He fucking grinned like it was just the most hilarious night of his life.
You know what he didn’t do?
He didn’t change the direction he was driving.
When they pulled up outside her house, she wasn’t going to argue anymore. She got out of the car and André got out as well.
She stopped before moving to the walkway, and stood in front of him on the sidewalk.
He slid his hands into his pockets and waited.
“Thank you,” she said. She wanted to say more but had no idea what.
