Filed to story: Penny and Navy Brother Asher
If I do, I’ll probably cry.
So I keep my eyes on my plate, the edge of the greasy cardboard slice blurring.
“Don’t let them get to you,” Asher says, voice/a little rougher now. “They’re not worth it.”
I clench my jaw, pressing my nails into my palms under the table.
“I’m used to it,” I say quietly.
‘Doesn’t mean you should be,” he says.
Simple: Flat.
Like it’s obvious.
Like there’s no debate.
I sit there, trying not to show how much that hits me.
Trying not to show how much that matters.
Across the booth, Rebecca’s still talking, Zoe still laughing, Tyler still oblivious.
The air outside is sharp and cool when we tumble out of the restaurant, laughter spilling into the night.
Tyler’s still cracking up at something Jo said, clapping him on the back like they’re the funniest people alive.
WAL
Everyone’s loud and a little chaotic full of food and energy and that late-night giddy feeling.
I hang back a little, hands stuffed into the pockets of my jacket, watching the group head toward the cars.
We drift toward Zoe’s car first a little beat-up blue thing with a dent in the bumper and a ton of glittery keychains swinging from the rearview mirror.
“Later, losers!” Zoe calls, tossing her purse into the passenger seat and sliding behind the wheel like she’s about to peel out in a movie.
She twists the key.
The engine coughs.
Splutters.
Dies.
She frowns, tries again, pumping the gas.
More coughing.
More dying.
Jo jogs up, grabbing at the hood latch. “Pop it! Lemme see.”
Tyler’s still laughing, leaning against the side of her car like this is just part of the entertainment.
I hover awkwardly near the back, watching Jo fiddle under the hood like he’s pretending to know what he’s doing.
Zoe tries again.
Nothing.
Jo slams the hood down with a grunt. “Nope.”
This is the worst,” Zoe moans dramatically, throwing her head back against the seat. “My car cannot be dead right now. I have work tomorrow! Important work! I can’t walk to the salon like a peasant!”
“You’re not walking, Tyler says, trying to calm hef. “You’ll figure it out in the morning.”
“Maybe it’s the battery,” Jo offers unhelpfully.
“Maybe you have no idea what you’re talking about,” Zoe snaps.
Jo throws his hands up. “Just trying to help, girl.”
Across the lot, someone calls, “Get the Navy guy to fix it!”
I turn to look and sure enough, there’s Asher, leaning against Tyler’s car like he’s posing for the cover of Brooding Monthly.
Arms crossed.
Expression flat.
Looking like he might actually set something on fire with his mind if we keep bothering him.
Jo waves him over. “C’mon, Hayes! Show us how it’s done!”
Asher barely moves.
Just shrugs lazily, deadpan.
“Don’t know anything about cars.”
I bite down on a laugh so hard it hurts.
Because I watched him fix Tyler’s car earlier like he was born with a wrench in his hand.
When I glance at him, he’s already watching me.
That stare.
Heavy, Intense.
Like he can see the joke I’m choking on.
Like he’s daring me to laugh out loud.
I look away quickly, cheeks heating.
Zoe groans again, flopping dramatically into the driver’s seat.
“This is seriously a disaster,” she moans. “I’m literally stranded.”
“It’s fine,” Tyler says easily. “You can get it towed tomorrow. Not the end of the world.”
Zoe makes a noise like it is, in fact, the end of the world.
From a few cars down, Jason shouts, “Yo! I can take three people if anyone needs a ride!”
Tyler straightens up immediately. “Perfect. I’ll drive the rest.”
I don’t even have time to pray for a miracle.
Because of course, Rebecca and Zoe immediately abandon ship, laughing as they skip toward Tyler’s car.
Because why not.
Tyler tosses the keys at Asher.
“You drive?”
Asher catches them one-handed, effortless.
“Sure.”
Short. Sharp.
Like he doesn’t care either way if we live or die on this drive.
Tyler’s already moving, opening the passenger door for me with a bright grin.
“After you, Pen.*
I duck in, cheeks heating at the casual endearment.
And then – because my life is a sitcom apparently – Tyler slaps my butt lightly as I slide in.
I almost launch myself into the dashboard.
He just laughs and climbs into the backseat behind me, completely unbothered.
Zoe and Rebecca pile in after him, Zoe practically on Tyler’s lap before her seatbelt’s even clicked.
Asher gets behind the wheel, adjusting the seat once, sharp and efficient, before turning the key.
The engine hums to life immediately – of course it does.
‘Where to?” he asks, voice low, glancing briefly into the rearview mirror.
Rebecca rattles off her address first, and Zoe tacks hers on after.