-Vance POV-
I'd been driving with Brady for hours when we finally got to Los Angeles.
"What if I get high off the air?" Brady gasped.
"Brady...You can handle being high. You, of all people."
"Wowww...Didn't have to bring that one up." He frowned.
"Sorry." I frowned back.
"Kidding- I'm okay with talking about it. Just not the old friend group."
"Alright."
"Bucky?"
"Hmmm?" I came out of the car.
"I'm graduating soon."
"Aren't you twenty-eight?"
"Graduate school. To be an astronomer?"
"Right. I'll be there."
"Of course you will. Just promise me you won't cry."
"I'm not gonna cry. When have I ever cried?" I chuckled. I don't think I've ever cried at any-
"Kindergarten graduation, Buck. Kindergarten."
"I-...shut up idiot."
"I missed that version of you."
"What version of me?"
"Being mean."
"You miss that?" We walked into a diner. It was seventies themed, so it kind of brought us back to when I took him to Denny's when he was six.
"Hell yeah. It's funny as hell too."
"Eh, I became a dad, so..."
"Nah...you became a dad long before you even met Ellie." He smiled. I smiled back, knowing what he meant. "Now you get to redeem that moment you missed in high school."
"Don't remind me..." We ordered, then talked for a bit while we waited.
He smirked, right when the waiter gave us our food.
I shook my head, smiling. Then I gave him a sad look.
"What?" His smirk faded.
"Nothin'..."
"Nah it's definitely something. What?"
I sighed, frowning. "I miss when you sat in the backseat in the baby car seat."
"So when I was five?"
"Yes."
"Awwww...We can still do all that stuff, except maybe for the carseat thing....But we can play spaceship like old times."
"You're twenty-eight..."
"Hm...I was eight two decades ago..."
YOU ARE READING
𝐑𝐄𝐅𝐋𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 - (sequel to 𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐍 - 𝐕𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐑
أدب الهواة" maybe it's a blessing in disguise...I see my reflection in your eyes." This is just a random fun book that's the second part of my book Cinnamon (you won't even understand it if you don't read cinnamon-Vance Hopper) but it's primarily js fun scena...
