If I'd known a trip to the beach would mean this much communication this early, I wouldn't have offered it. Tegan won't stop barking about the ocean. When will we be there, she whines; drive faster! I'd thrown a few snappy replies here and there at hopes of quieting her, but my early morning irritability only sparked her own. Does she not understand I haven't had coffee yet?

...No, I'm sure she does. She'd woken up beside me, her arms around my waist again, had felt my sharp slap as I recoiled and spat a curse at her. It's your fault, I'd snap; it's your fault we're going to hell. It always will be her fault.

My grip has tightened on the steering wheel. I don't notice until Tegan lays a hand on mine- it's an effort to calm me down, but my nails tug at the leather of the wheel in response. I don't want her sin touching me- I don't want her in the same fucking car as me, but 'we've' needed this much more than I want to believe. If it's relaxation I'll get, then I suppose the hour ride is worth it. Of course we'll find fans- our fame really is a hassle now in comparison to So Jealous- but I'm prepared- no bikini this time.

I've parked. Tegan is nearly bouncing beside me, vibrating with excitement I can only glare at. She's so unbothered.. it's unfair. Must I always hold the responsibility of precaution?