4. Miles
4
Miles
A s yet another Taylor Swift song blares through the car’s speakers, I do my best not to groan. Veronica had told me that she didn’t want me to feel sorry for her or offer her any special treatment, but at the time, letting her pick the next playlist felt like the least I could do.
I guess I didn’t fully realize what I was signing up for. But, honestly, that’s on me. I should’ve at least suspected, since Blair’s also been obsessed with Taylor for years. The two even throw personal listening parties for every new album release—even if many of the more recent ones had to be over video calls. I guess where I really went wrong in all this was assuming that some of Blair’s more eclectic musical taste would rub off on her best friend. Blair has spent the last decade traveling with some of the biggest, most influential bands in the world—so, naturally, I thought her friend might develop a slightly more adventurous musical palette. But apparently, I was wrong.
Unfortunately, I don’t see her switching it up anytime soon as I glance over and see her singing—or rather, screaming along—to I Can Do It with a Broken Heart , her hair blowing majestically in the wind, her hands moving artistically to the melody. I’d probably find it kind of cute if it weren’t so damn annoying all at the same time.
My mood worsens when a car full of men—probably fresh off a weekend of questionable decisions in Las Vegas—slows down in the fast lane of Interstate-15 and the men start dancing and leering at her like they’re auditioning for the world’s sleaziest boy band.
She might find it amusing as she shimmies her shoulders their way, but I’m nowhere near as entertained. Lifting my foot from the pedal, I let our car slow down, forcing them to officially pass us.
The assholes aren’t the only ones disappointed as she turns to look at me, mouth open in shock, as she brushes some of her snarled strands behind her ear. “What was that for? We were having fun.” She sulks, my eyes dipping toward her pink pouty lips before I force my attention back to the road ahead.
“Those guys were probably a bunch of married assholes with nothing better to do than stare at a gorgeous woman. I did you a favor,” I assure her.
Her open mouth closes, and her lips curl into a smile. “A gorgeous woman, huh?” she smirks, nudging her elbow into my arm.
“Oh, come on. You know you’re stunning. It’s the rest of you that needs some work,” I shoot back, mostly joking, but I see the way my words land as she falls back into her seat, her excitement from earlier evaporating.
I know I shouldn’t feel bad, but I do, and I fucking hate it. Then again, I’m used to feeling this way around her. She’s always found a way to get under my skin, and while she should already know she’s not my favorite—she even pointed it out earlier—I’m also not looking to be intentionally cruel, especially when yesterday was likely one of the worst days of her entire life.
“Hey, I shouldn’t—” I start, but she interrupts.
“Oh my God, there it is! We have to stop!” she shouts.
My eyebrows furrow. “What?” I ask, turning my head to look at her. We’re in the middle of the desert—what could possibly be worth stopping for?
She rolls her eyes as if I’m the densest person in the world. “The world’s largest thermometer. We have to stop and take a picture next to it. It’s a Prescott family tradition.”
“That thing?” I ask, feeling less than impressed as I spot a giant white figure in the not-so-far distance. “That looks like some old piece of shit.”
“It is, but that’s what makes it so wonderful all at the same time. Please,” she begs, reaching out and wrapping her hands around my bicep. While I’m fully aware of the touch, she quickly seems to think better of it and folds her hands back into her lap. “Come on. We have to stop.”
I let out an annoyed breath, but once again, I find it impossible to say no to her. “Fine. We can stop. But don’t even think about somehow turning this into another excuse to grab more snacks.”
Most of the drive has been her blasting Taylor’s music, but when she wasn’t doing that, she was making her way through her collection of snacks. I know I shouldn’t let it get to me, but damn, it was annoying as hell. Every time she opens a new bag, she grabs one or two pieces, pops them in her mouth like some kind of sample, then moves on to the next as if the previous one never existed.
“Party pooper,” she shoots my way, sticking out a playful tongue in my direction. Instead of being annoyed like I normally would be, I press my lips together to suppress a smile as I roll my eyes once more.
“Oh my God, was that a smile?” she asks, in mock shock.
I press my lips together even tighter. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You aren’t even funny,” I say, finding it much easier to insult her. Thankfully she can see right through the sarcasm, as her smile only grows.
“Oh, I never claimed to be funny, but I just made the Broody Bennett smile, and for me, that’s a win. In fact, I think my next road trip game is going to be seeing how many times I can break through that tough-guy facade of yours and make you smile.”
“Hey, I smile,” I say, defending my honor. Okay, no, I’m not exactly the smiliest person out there, but that’s not my fault. If anything, it’s the world that’s screwed me over and never given me much of a reason to want to smile.
I also can’t help that I have whatever the man's version of resting bitch face is. It’s just how my face looks, and beyond that, when it comes to the life I was dealt, I don’t exactly feel as though I was given the easiest hand. If I had something worth smiling over, I would, but most of the time, I just don’t.
“Then why did you stop the moment I called you out on it?” she challenges, reaching into her giant bag of goodies and pulling out a Red Vine as she taps me on the shoulder with it.
I grunt in response before letting out a small huff of air as we near the exit of her world-famous thermometer. “Are you really serious about stopping?” I ask instead, nodding toward the thing that looks even more ridiculous and junky the closer we get.
“Of course I’m serious. That thing is a true landmark, and it must be admired for its grandeur and beauty,” she declares before biting into her treat, which I’m sure is also filled with way too much red food dye and sugar.
This has to be one of the most ridiculous things I’ve ever considered. It feels like a complete waste of time, but given that we’re not on any sort of schedule... What the hell, why not? At the very least, taking this detour puts more distance between us and those creeps who were leering at Veronica, so there’s that.
As we hit the exit, I feel a new smile tugging at my lips as her excitement seems to build. She’s practically bouncing in her seat, and as much as I hate to admit it, her energy is strangely contagious. “Oh, come on. Admit it,” she pressures. “This is exciting, and you know you’re dying to stop.”
“I wouldn’t go as far as calling it exciting, but I suppose I am interested in getting a bit closer to see what all the fuss is about.”
“You’re going to love it. I promise,” she says. But as I look at the rundown town of Baker, I’m even less sure what she sees in this place. To me, it looks like a total dump, but as much as I hate to admit it—even to myself—if this puts a genuine smile on her face, I’ll do it.
Pulling into a small rundown lot, I put the car in park. “So, what now?” I ask, still completely unimpressed, especially since, as we stare up at it, I can actually see that it is, in fact, a giant-ass thermometer.
“We get out,” she says, unbuckling her seatbelt before running to get as close to it as she can, given the small fence around it.
I follow her lead and unbuckle. “This is seriously the weirdest fucking thing I’ve ever done in my life,” I mutter to myself.
“Oh, come on, you love it,” she calls back to me over her shoulder as she continues to race toward it.
“Quite the opposite, actually. I hate it,” I deadpan.
She giggles, turning to face me as she stands next to the fence. “You know you fucking love it. Actually, I’m pretty convinced this is going to be the highlight of our entire trip.”
“I hope not, because if that’s the case, you’re not exactly selling the rest of this vacation.”
“Come on, Broody Bennett, can you at least pretend to enjoy this?” she asks, jutting out her hip as she places her hand on top of it.
“No,” I say, especially since not only is this large-ass thermometer not living up to the hype, it’s also windy as hell here, evidenced even more by the fact that her hair is blowing all over the place. But unlike me, she doesn’t seem to mind as she pulls out her phone and begins to snap a selfie.
As much as I want to head back toward the car, I stick around and let her have her fun as I place my hands in my pockets and watch.
“Would you mind getting a picture of me?” she asks, pouting her lips as she looks up at me from under her lashes.
I let out an annoyed breath as I pull my hand out, phone and all. “I’m only taking one. I’m not Blair, and I’m not going to sit here looking for the perfect light and angle. You get what you get,” I warn, turning on the camera app on my phone.
While I love my sister to death, I have nowhere near the same kind of patience that she does. She sees pictures as a form of art, but taking or even standing for photos just isn’t my thing and it’s something I avoid at all costs.
I suppose I can somewhat understand the need to capture a memory that you can hold onto forever, but given my history, I have very few memories I care to preserve. Even more so, standing in front of a weird hunk of stone that doubles as a giant thermometer is yet another thing I don’t see myself caring to remember.
Posing for the photo, Veronica raises her hands above her head and smiles, a magnetic one that almost makes me want to smile back at her, but I resist. I click the small circle on my phone to capture the image before sliding it into my pocket. “Alright, got it.”
Her face falls, looking less than amused as her hands drop to her sides. “You’re not even going to let me see it?” she asks.
“No, because I’m not going to chance you hating it and somehow convincing me to take another.”
“Oh,” she starts, tilting her head as a devious grin appears on her face. “So you’re saying that you could, in fact, be convinced?”
“No,” I promise her, realizing just how much that particular word keeps popping out of my mouth. But while I’ve done my best to be nice, a guy can only do so much.
“Fine.” She sighs, thankfully giving up. “But what about posing next to me and the two of us taking a selfie to commemorate the moment? I mean, how else in the world would I ever convince anyone that I got you to stop and take a picture in front of such a ridiculous landmark?”
“You know, you aren’t exactly selling this to me, especially since if you did somehow convince me, there’s no way I’m letting you post that anywhere. I don’t do social media.”
While a huge part of my sister’s career is posting pictures and images on various accounts, I’ve done everything in my power to stay off that particular grid. Sure, like most other people out there, I’ve created an account, but for viewing purposes only. You’d never catch me dead posting on any of those sites.
“Okay, fine, this one will be for my own private collection,” she agrees. I raise an eyebrow and she rolls her eyes. “Not like that, you perv. This spank bank is completely full.”
While I’m tempted to laugh, I do my best to keep it in, even as a smile tugs at the corners of my mouth.
“Plus, come on. You know Blair would love it, and it’d likely earn you a few more bonus points in her eyes.”
“I don’t need bonus points,” I assure her, even as I take a few steps forward. “I’m always going to be her favorite, but if this gets you to shut up about it, let’s just do it and get it over with.”
Miming the action, she pretends to zip her lips as she waits for me to join her. “You’re going to have to get closer than that,” she scolds, as I leave an inch or two of space between us. However, instead of waiting for me to do it, she slides in next to me and presses herself into my side. “Now smile,” she demands, holding the phone down low to grab a picture of not only our faces but the large thermometer in the background.
“No,” I tease her once more, but ultimately she wins this battle as she wraps her arm around my back and pokes me in the side with her hand.
“Hey,” I call, but in doing so, the makings of a smile appear on my face just as she hits the button to capture the moment.
“Perfect!”