10 Things I hate About Her (10 Things #1)

4. Shut It, Val

A royal blue Mercedes pulled up to Val's driveway. Claire sat behind the wheel, texting Val about their arrival. Naomi peered out the window. The front door opened up and both girls turned their attention to it. Val departed in a purple v- neck and jeans, her small breast hidden under the material of her shirt. From a distance, she seemed like a handsome model. She was tall and lean for a woman, her movements had the grace of a professional athlete.

Claire clucked her tongue. "And I told her to wear a dress for once."

Naomi said, "She would rather die."

Val took the back seat. There was an anxious manner to the way she checked her phone ever so often. She didn't bother to acknowledge Naomi and her friend. If she had, she would have noticed Naomi's black dress, a slit on one side that stopped a few inches below her hip. Naomi had put her hair in a neat bun. On her neck, a gold chain glittered in the glow of the streetlamp. Naomi awaited the usual compliment, but Val simply nodded after some time. "Shall we go ladies?" she asked, smiling.

"I told you to wear something feminine," said Claire. She fixed the frill of her silver blouse. A pair of tapered black pants clung to her legs. She was the shortest of the three and quite attractive. Short brown hair framed a delicate face.

Val retorted, "I am wearing clothes, and I am female. Thus, I am wearing something feminine."

"Don't be slick," Claire replied.

"Not as slick as I am sharp-witted." Val wriggled her brows.

"Ew," said Claire.

Val checked her phone again, her expression darkening at the screen.

"Everything okay?" Naomi asked.

Val forced a grin. "Couldn't be better."

Naomi wasn't so certain. "You sure?"

"Yes, can we go now? I have waited half a night for you to come get me and now, instead of leaving, I'm being questioned. We'll miss the first bit at this rate. Someone may take our seats."

Claire heeded Val's advice and lead the car onto the street. She drove slowly, checking every angle. Her passengers felt her anxiety. Val asked, "Should I drive?"

"You don't have a license," Claire said as she continued a slow approach to the stop sign.

"I doubt riding a motorcycle is all the different; I'll just need help parking this thing. Let's swap sweats." She started to get up.

"No," Naomi interjected, pushing Val down. "Claire just has to get used to driving, that's all. Give her a month and she'll be driving like a pro."

Val said, "Yes, Naomi, we have a month to get to the concert. Let's take all the time in the world. You know what? Let's not even go at all; we're not going to make it at this pace." Val snorted and crossed her arms over her chest.

Naomi turned on her. "What's your problem?"

"What makes you think I have a problem?" Val shot back.

"How's saying that going to make her less nervous?"

"I offered to drive," muttered Val.

"You don't have a license for anything but your damn bike. God." Naomi faced forward; her face red from fury.

A silence settled throughout the vehicle. There was a low, repeating click as Claire turned left. They made it onto the highway where Claire stayed onto the right lane for slower traffic. She gripped the steering tight, almost as if she wanted to pull it towards her. Naomi saw the way she craned forward and checked every overhead sign. She saw the way Claire's shoulders bunched from the strain of keeping her friends alive.