The two of you sat side by side on the hood of the car, legs swinging lazily as fireworks exploded in bursts of gold and red overhead. Alyx leaned closer, balancing a giant cup of soda in one hand while gesturing wildly with the other, mid-rant about how someone had dared to mess up her order earlier.

“I said no pickles!” she exclaimed, mock indignation written all over her face. “Is that so hard to understand?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “You’re so dramatic.”

“Dramatic?” Alyx turned to you, her auburn ponytail swaying. “Excuse me, Adler, but if you had to suffer the pickle juice betrayal, you’d understand.”

You rolled your eyes but bumped her shoulder lightly, grinning. “Alright, fine, you’re a victim. Truly tragic.”

“Thank you,” she said, pretending to wipe away an imaginary tear before breaking into a laugh herself. She set the cup down beside her, suddenly pulling you into a quick side hug. “You’re lucky you’re cute. Otherwise, I’d ditch you and find someone who gets the pickles thing.”