“Twenty bucks says you’ll be asleep before we hit the highway,” Rae says. “Now shut up and get in the back.” She blows me a million air kisses as I climb in behind them.

“Joke’s on you because I can stretch out now.” I prop my legs up across the seat.

“Jack, prepare to blast off into the wonderful world of Rae and Chase with my carefully curated playlist of all our favorite sing-along songs,” Rae says, hitting play on an epic mix of Disney songs, which causes Jack to bury his face in his palms.

He resists the urge to sing, eyeing both of us with indignity as it cycles through Moana to Aladdin to Beauty and the Beast, but then “I’ll Make a Man Out of You” from Mulan comes on, and all of a sudden, Jack busts out his best Broadway persona, his voice booming as he matches the lyrics word for word.

“Okay, he passes the test,” Rae says, turning onto the highway. “We can keep him.”

“By the way, you owe me twenty bucks,” I say with a yawn.

Five minutes later, I’m out cold.

I dream in charcoal sketches of Jack in the rain, his face shadowed by heavy lines of black lightning as it veins across a dirty white page. He doesn’t flinch as it strikes the ground around him. I hear his voice in the background. I hear Rae’s voice, too, but they’re far away and laughing like they’re old friends, and it blends with the sounds of obscure Disney songs and tires whizzing over concrete highways.

The car jerks to a stop, and I nearly fall off the seat.

“We’re here, Sleeping Beauty,” Rae says, smacking my leg.

“He really is a beaut when he sleeps, huh?” Jack says. “Drool and all.”

“Oh my god, you are the worst.” Rae slaps him, and they burst into laughter.

I wipe the dribble down the side of my mouth. “The hell has gotten into you two?”

“Inside joke,” Rae says. “You missed a lot, and now we’ve bonded and are best friends. Sorry. You’ve been replaced.”

They do this weird secret handshake where they slap each other’s palms like some nerd version of Miss Mary Mack.

“Did I fall through a wormhole in my dreams?” My head is still fuzzy as I text Taylor to tell her we’re at the hotel.

“Oooh, that’s good,” Jack says. “I need to write that down.”

“I do not give you permission to steal my intellectual property, traitor,” I say.

“Calm your tits,” Rae says. “It’s not his fault I like him better.”

Wedging myself back up onto the seat, I pout and do my best big-eyed Puss in Boots impression, which never fails to guilt Rae.

“You are pure evil,” she says.

“But so cute.” Jack pecks my lips quickly.