Kinsey hopped out of the car when Sasha stopped for gas in Delaware, making it to the pump before Sasha could dig out her credit card. She felt bad enough for making Sasha drive her all the way to North Carolina without also letting her cover any of the expenses.
“I can pay for my own gas,” Sasha objected after she’d shut off the car and joined Kinsey at the pump.
Kinsey was already punching in her zip code. “I know you can. But you ain’t gonna. And I’m not spending every stop we make having this same argument. So get over it.”
Sasha laughed and gave Kinsey a lazy salute. “Whatever you say, cap.”
“At ease, soldier,” Kinsey said, waving her away. “Go use the facilities or whatever. I got this.”
“Fine, fine.” Sasha shoved her hands in her jacket pockets as she walked away. “I’ll grab you an iced tea while I’m inside,” she called over her shoulder.
“Don’t you dare!” Kinsey shouted.
Sasha grinned at her innocently as she backed through the convenience store’s door, unperturbed by Kinsey’s warning glare.
Kinsey shook her head and turned back to the pump. She didn’t often ask Sasha about her life back home. She’d let herself think she knew a lot about it because of the stories Sasha was always launching into, but clearly there was more to it than an endless series of comical misadventures.
Not that Sasha showed any sign of actually wanting to unload about whatever the deal was between her and her mom. Kinsey had never in her life seen anyone dodge a topic so fast.
She was a little worried she’d pushed Sasha too hard about it. Or that her crankiness had sounded more like judgment than a clumsy attempt at support. Sasha had bounced back to her usual cheer pretty quickly once the subject was changed, but Kinsey couldn’t quite shake the feeling she could’ve handled the conversation with more tact.
She’d just . . . never noticed Sasha needed anyone. For anything. She always seemed to have everything together.
It didn’t feel like a very good excuse.
Kinsey wiped down the windshield with a beat-up gas station squeegee in a lame attempt to do something halfway nice for Sasha. That done, she parked the van in front of the store and headed inside to use the bathroom. As she walked inside, she ran into Sasha carrying a bag that looked like it was filled with too many snacks.
Kinsey scowled and pointed at the bag. “I’m paying you back for those.”
“Just you try it, Kinsey Han,” Sasha said, narrowing her eyes in a threat that was spoiled by the hint of a grin.
“Don’t think I won’t,” Kinsey said, with what she hoped was a more threatening glare.
Sasha just laughed as she pulled the door open and slipped into the chilly sunshine.
By the time Kinsey followed her out a few minutes later, Sasha was back behind the wheel. She was massaging her neck absently, brow furrowed as she stared at something Kinsey couldn’t see from her position on the sidewalk. Probably her phone again.
Kinsey didn’t like it. Sasha wasn’t big on serious expressions unless she was on the soccer field. And she only rubbed at her neck like that when she was either unsure or anxious.
Kinsey felt another pang of guilt for roping Sasha into this road trip. Who knew what she was having to rearrange to make this work with her schedule? At a minimum, she’d probably have to postpone that meeting-people thing with her soccer friend.
Shaking off a selfish sense of relief at that thought, Kinsey walked over and tapped on the driver’s side window.
Sasha jumped, but threw on a smile when she saw it was Kinsey. She rolled down the window, phone disappearing under her leg. “What’s up?”
“I can drive for a while if you have something you need to take care of,” Kinsey said, planting her hands on her hips.
“Oh.” Sasha shoved her phone further under her leg. “No, I’m okay.”
Hmm. “Because I already told my dad we’re coming down. And he says my mom’s tests look pretty good. So I shouldn’t be in danger of any more meltdowns in the immediate future.”
Sasha’s smile turned genuine. “I’m okay,” she insisted. “You can spell me after dinner if you’re still up to it.”
“You sure? You keep checking your phone every time we stop.”
“Jealous?” Sasha said, batting her eyelashes flirtatiously.
Something clicked in the back of Kinsey’s mind. A hypothesis that had somehow never occurred to her. This is how Sasha deflects questions.
Impulsively, Kinsey leaned her forearms on the open window, holding Sasha’s gaze as she invaded her space. “Should I be?” she asked, in a low, surprisingly sultry voice.
Sasha opened her mouth, but all that came out was a strange strangled sound as she exhaled.
Kinsey allowed herself a slight smolder as she leaned in another inch. “What would you do if I was?”
“I—What?” Sasha stammered, her gaze dropping to Kinsey’s lips.
Something hooked Kinsey’s insides, right at the base of her ribcage, and tugged. She was suddenly hyper-aware that she hadn’t let anyone kiss her since Evie. Sasha was only inches away, eyes wide, mouth slightly open. Kinsey could feel the soft warmth of Sasha’s breath against her face. She wanted to close the short distance between them. Wanted to find out what it would be like to be kissed by someone as sweet and gentle as her best friend.
Kinsey pulled on her bottom lip with her teeth, torn between curiosity and alarm at the turn her bluff-calling had taken, and Sasha swallowed hard, her eyes darkening. As though maybe Kinsey hadn’t missed her chance after all. As though maybe Sasha did like her. And all Kinsey would have to do was lean in a little more and . . .
“You—” Sasha’s ears turned pink and she looked away, her hand slipping off the armrest as she pulled back. Her elbow hit the gearshift. “Ow. What the—” Her tone sharpened into a warning as her eyes snapped back to Kinsey’s. “What the hell, Kins?”
Kinsey straightened, dropping her arms to her sides, ignoring the disappointed thump in her stomach. She raised her eyebrows and tried to find some satisfaction—some escape from the irrational buzz under her skin—in a hypothesis unequivocally proven. “If you don’t want to talk about something you can just say you don’t want to talk about it.”
“Wh—What?” Sasha asked weakly, still leaning away from the window.
“Quit flirting with me to get out of conversations you don’t want to have,” Kinsey snipped, stalking around to the other side of the car. She climbed into the passenger seat, refusing to look at Sasha, and slammed the door. “If you want me to butt out, just tell me so. Enough with the smokescreens.”
Sasha didn’t move as Kinsey buckled up and scrunched into her seat, pretending to be consumed with getting a playlist ready to go. She could feel Sasha’s gaze on her, hear her breathing a little harder than the situation seemed to warrant.
This was so stupid. What the hell did she think she was doing anyway? She knew Sasha wasn’t interested in kissing her. That was the whole point of that experiment. To call Sasha’s bluff and prove once and for all that the flirting was nothing more than a way to avoid talking about anything serious.
Sasha wasn’t supposed to react like that. Like she wanted her too.
And Kinsey wasn’t supposed to feel hurt just because Sasha flinched. It was exactly what she’d expected. Even if it wasn’t what she wanted. Sasha deserved a nice, outgoing girl. That would never be Kinsey, no matter how hard she tried. It was better if everyone just kept their mouths to themselves.
Sasha rolled up the window, and Kinsey, throat tight, reached for the radio so they’d have an excuse not to talk.
Sasha caught her hand before she could click it on, her fingers warm on Kinsey’s palm. “You’re right,” she said quietly, eyes on the steering wheel, shoulders tight. “That’s exactly what I was doing. And I can see how it’d be . . .” She blew a breath into her bangs, releasing Kinsey’s hand and throwing the van into reverse. “I’ll—I’ll try to stop. I’m sorry.”
Kinsey touched the edge of her collar with her empty hand, palm tingling. She didn’t know what to say. This was as close as they’d ever gotten to an honest conversation about why things kept getting awkward between them lately. And Kinsey was afraid to poke at it, in case all her jumbled-up feelings came rushing, unfiltered, out of her mouth.
“It’s not always a smokescreen,” Sasha said into the silence at a stoplight, her hands at ten and two on the wheel. “The flirting, I mean. Clearly, yes, it’s my go-to.” She flashed a tentative smile at the bumper of the next car up. “It’s kinda handy, since you always get distracted coming up with witty ways to shoot me down. But I don’t actually dive behind smokescreens as often as I flirt with you. I haven’t got that many secrets.”
Kinsey swallowed, examining Sasha’s profile. She wanted to ask why else Sasha flirted with her, then. But she didn’t know what she wanted the answer to be. She didn’t know if it would be worse if Sasha admitted it was just an ongoing bit, or if she said she actually had feelings for Kinsey that went beyond friendship. Either one seemed like it would ruin everything, one because it would hurt too much, and the other . . . the other because Kinsey wasn’t sure she trusted herself not to end up hurting Sasha in the end.
Suddenly using smokescreens to avoid a topic seemed like a good idea after all. “Well, good,” Kinsey said slowly. “Otherwise I’d have to conclude you were some kind of spy.”
Sasha laughed, letting her hands slide down the wheel to their usual four-and-seven position. “I’ll get those state secrets out of you yet, Han,” she said, shaking her fist theatrically.
“Not a chance, Deforest,” Kinsey said. She ignored the bittersweet pang she felt that they were back to normal. Normal was good. Normal was what she wanted.
Wasn’t it?
The light changed, and Sasha nudged the van onto the ramp for the freeway. “So we’re good?”
“Of course we’re good,” Kinsey said, swiping open her phone. She flicked through to a playlist that was mostly ’80s glam rock, which seemed like the least dangerous, feelings-wise, of her existing playlists. There wasn’t much romantic angst in the lyrics of “Bicycle Race” or “Mr. Roboto,” thank god. “We’re always good.”