Lucas
I tugged at my collar as the pickup truck rolled along the highway.
“Stop messing with your collar.”
Mila leaned forward from the back seat, smoothing out a wrinkle on her black dress with her palm. Her accusatory stare made me laugh, though it sounded subdued, even to my ears.
“It’s scratchy. And this tie feels like a noose slowly getting tighter and tighter.”
Oliver chuckled from the passenger seat.
“Luke never has been much for wearing a shirt and tie.”
Mila cocked an eyebrow at him, an amused smile twisting her red lips.
“Naw, really? I never would have guessed. I swear, he’s got a closet full of faded blue jeans and another closet full of even more faded blue jeans.”
“Oh, come on. I found these nice black jeans in my closet, didn’t I?”
I slapped my knee, then put on the turn signal. Our exit approached.
“True enough, on a technical level.”
I grinned and leaned forward.
“Isn’t being technically correct the best kind of correct?”