“Oh,” she breathes, and I can see her fingers easing up on the steering wheel. “This isn’t so bad.”
I suggest, “Try braking again, get a feel for the—” but before I can finish, she has her foot on the brake, jerking us to a sudden stop. “—sensitivity.”
Her hands clench back around the steering wheel, throat bobbing with a swallow. I can tell that made her anxious, panicky, and it isn’t helped when the car suddenly fires off a rapid bout of dings. Her eyes widen in alarm, hands flying off the wheel. “What’s wrong? What’d I do?”
I snake a hand around the driver’s seat to touch her hip where Emory can’t see. “It’s fine, relax. It’s just doing that because Em isn’t wearing his seatbelt.”
She whips her head around. “You’re not wearing a seatbelt?!”
Emory gestures out the windshield. “We’re in an empty parking lot.”
“Emory!” Then she peers back at me, shrieking, “Reynolds!”
We both sigh, pulling on our seatbelts.
She coasts for a bit longer, getting more and more used to the tension of the brakes. Every time she pushes the pedal too hard, jerking the car to a stop, her shoulders get higher and tighter, chest hitching to a still.
I say, “Breathe, baby,” and tack on a hasty, “V.”
Shit.
I jerk my eyes toward Emory, but he doesn’t notice anything. “Ready to try the gas?” He looks nervous too, but he’s doing a better job of hiding it than Vandy is.
My hand, still wedged between her seat at the driver’s side door, grazes her hip. “You’ve got this. Remember the fence? And the roof?”
“The fence?” Em looks at me. “The roof?”
I pause, wondering if it’ll piss him off to know how she got out of the house for the fourth rite.
Vandy just breezes out, “Yeah, I jumped off the roof and Reyn caught me.”
Emory gapes, gaze pinging between us. “When was this?”
“How do you think I snuck out to go to the Alumni house?” She presses the gas and the car lurches forward.
Emory’s hands fly out to clutch at the dash. “Slowly!”
She smirks at him out the side of her mouth. “I’m guessing I use the wheel to turn, right?”
It takes her about ten minutes to get a feel for the gas and brake, working them together to make the stop and accelerations smoother. I watch the spark of excitement return to her eyes when she starts turning down the old, faded parking aisles. She’s gorgeous like this, the fading evening sun casting a warm glow over her cheeks.
Even Emory seems to relax, watching her with a soft smile. “Hey, you’re doing good.” It’s patronizing, but Vandy takes it as it’s meant to be, shooting him a grin.
“Want to learn how to reverse?” I ask.
By the time she puts the car in park, it’s almost dark out. We all get out, trading seats, but Emory stops me around the front of the car, pressing a palm to my shoulder.
“So, maybe you were right before,” he says, not meeting my eyes. “I think this Devil stuff kind of got away from me.”
I watch him skeptically. “Yeah?”
He nods. “I have to remember why we’re doing this. This isn’t about being cool or popular. It’s about giving Vandy something to hold onto next year.” He looks over to where she’s kicked back in the passenger seat, sliding my sunglasses up the bridge of her nose. “She should have stuff like this. And I know it’s better to do it while I’m still here, where I can watch over her, be a part of it.” He finally meets my gaze, finishing, “I might need someone to keep reminding me of that.”
Vandy calls out, “Guys!” She’s poking her head out of the window, hand raised in the air. “Not to interrupt this touching bro-ment you’ve got going on, but I have to be home in ten minutes.”
I bury a playful punch into Emory’s shoulder. “Will do,” I promise, jogging back to the driver’s seat.
I give Vandy a wicked smile when I get behind the wheel, wishing she wasn’t wearing those sunglasses so I could see the way her eyes glaze over when I do. For the first time, I begin feeling a little hope. It’ll take time, but maybe Emory won’t be so hard to convince, after all.
29
Vandy
“Afton and Aubrey, you’re in charge of supplies. No one will think twice about the two of you carrying around a lot of red and black on Homecoming Week.” Emory turns. “Elana, you’re on logo design. Caroline, we need your