Jon's hips swayed as he led the dazed group out the front door, his new white sneakers feeling small and delicate on his feet. He walked them down the driveway toward his mom's sensible silver minivan, his thumb pressing the 'unlock' button on his mom’s keys. Well he had thought they were his mom’s keys.
Beep-boop.
A cheerful chirp answered, not from the minivan, but from the car parked behind it.
Jon froze.
It wasn't a minivan. It was a Lancer Evolution, gleaming in a bright, obnoxious rally red, complete with a spoiler on the back.
...a cool and 'different' older sister...
The thought, his thought, bubbled up, laced with smug superiority. Of course I have a cool car. Lame Zoë would never have a car like this.
"NO... WAY!" Mikey screamed, his voice cracking. "YOU HAVE AN EVO?!"
"Sick!" Jeff and Ben yelled in unison.
"Okay, this is actually pretty cool," Maya admitted, a genuine smile breaking out on her face. "Can I call shotgun?"
Jon just stared at the car. This was his. He knew it, just as he'd known how to do his makeup. The custom vanity plate read: ESME. A small, horrified part of him—the part that used to be a 17-year-old boy who liked cars—was secretly, shamefully pleased. This was an Evo.
"This is so cool," Mikey was gushing, yanking open the back door for himself, Jeff, and Ben. Maya darted for the passenger seat.
Jon looked at the low-slung driver's seat. To get in, he had to hike his leg over the high side-bolster, a motion that "accidentally" stretched the skin-tight denim over his ass. He dropped into the seat, which hugged his hips and thighs, "accidentally" pushing his chest out. His braless breasts jiggled heavily, and he winced with pleasure as his pierced nipples throbbed.
He put the key in. The engine didn't just start; it barked to life with a throaty rumble. The stereo immediately kicked on, blasting a high-energy, thumping pop song that his brain supplied the lyrics for.
A wave of pure, cold panic hit Jon. I don't know how to drive this! He'd only just gotten his learner's permit. He didn't know how to drive a manual. His eyes darted in terror to the gear shift.
...and be fun...
...always so cool...
The panic vanished, replaced by a smooth, bored confidence. His delicate hand closed around the cool metal and leather of the gear shift. His other hand "accidentally" cranked the music up. His head was "accidentally" bopping to the beat, his dark curls bouncing, which in turn made his chest jiggle.
"Alright, party people," he purred, his voice a low, flirty thrum over the music. He "accidentally" caught Ben's eye in the rearview mirror and gave him a wink. Then, with a speed and confidence that wasn't his, his foot found the clutch, and his hand snapped the shifter into reverse. The car lurched, backwards and pivoted around in a perfect J turn and he just laughed, a low, sexy sound. "Let's go."
