“The point is, we’re together now,” Scarlett says firmly, digging into her brownie like chocolate will solve everything.
“Well, you’d better get your story straight for that fancy wedding,” Eli says. “Because that was confusing.”
She glares at him for a second before getting up from the table, grabbing our plates and escaping to the kitchen.
“Hey, I wasn’t finished yet—” I protest, but she’s already gone. “Never mind.”
Eli looks like he actually feels sorry that I lost my brownie. “Don’t take it personally, dude. You know how she gets when she’s embarrassed.”
The water starts running in the kitchen. “You think she’s embarrassed?”
He nods. “People are going to ask you at the wedding how you got together. Maybe only one of you should tell it. And add some actual romance next time?”
That’s when I realize he’s offering advice. Because our storywasterrible.
“She hates being caught off guard,remember?”
“You’re right. I forgot about that.” Finally, advice I can actually use.
Eli takes off his trucker cap, runs a hand through his hair, then gets a little smirk. “Remember that night we tried to teach Scarlett to drive a stick shift? She was mortified that night too.”
“Back in high school?” I lean back in my chair. “Your truck never recovered.”
Eli leans his elbows on the table. “She killed the engine like fifteen times.”
I smirk. “Worst driver in the history of driving.”
“Still is.” Eli glances toward the kitchen to make sure Scarlett isn’t coming back. “And then she got so mad she threw the keys at my head.”
We both crack up then, trying to keep it down so she doesn’t hear.
I point at Eli. “You made me push that truck down Harrison’s Hill because she stalled it so many times that the battery died.”
Now we’re both laughing so hard we can hardly catch our breath.
“She kept insisting the truck was broken,” Eli says, wiping his eyes, “that it wasn’t her driving. She kept saying—” He pitches his voice higher, mimicking his sister, “’This clutch is defective! No one could drive this piece of junk!’”
Now I’m laughing so hard I can barely stay upright.
“It was worth it though,” I add. “Just to see her face when she finally got it moving without stalling.”
Scarlett suddenly appears, frowning at us like we’ve lost our minds.
She sets her hands on her hips. “What are you two laughing about?”
“Nothing,” we say in unison, then crack up again.
For a moment, it feels like we’re seventeen again, and the biggest problem in our lives was whether someone could master a manual transmission.
“Are you talking about me?” she asks, her gaze narrowing.
“Why would we do that?” Eli says. “Just sharing Mona stories.”
“Okay, you morons, you’re not bringing up when I learned to drive stick, are you?” When her brother bursts out laughing, she throws a dish towel at his head.
“Some things never change,” Eli says with a smirk. “First you throw keys at me, and now dish towels.”
“Those were good times,” I sigh. Something passes between Eli and me when I say it—years of history in a look.