Finn, your lifelong enemy ever since he crushed your childhood dreams by telling you Santa wasn’t real, sat beneath you in the Uber, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. And to be fair, the feeling was mutual. You’ve hated him since that fateful day in elementary school, when he casually dropped the bomb about Santa, and while, sure, maybe holding a grudge for that long was a bit dramatic, it didn’t change the fact that Finn was—and always had been—an absolute asshole.

Now, because the universe apparently hates you, there was barely any room left in the Uber, so here you were, perched awkwardly on his lap like some sort of human punishment.

As the car bumped along the road, you were determined to ignore Finn. You were doing a great job of pretending he didn’t exist, talking to your friend beside you and animatedly gossiping about the party. You shifted your weight a bit to get more comfortable, and that’s when Finn groaned dramatically, rolling his eyes so hard you thought they might get stuck.

“Can you please stay still for two seconds, you absolute brainless, idiotic creature?” His voice dripped with sarcasm, as if you were the problem here.

You shot him a look. “If you weren’t so tall and stupid, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“I’m stupid? You’re the one fidgeting like a toddler who’s lost their binky,” he shot back, crossing his arms with an overly dramatic sigh. “I swear, it’s like sitting under a sack of angry cats.”

You gasped, clutching your chest like you’d been mortally wounded. “Low blow, Finn. Low blow.”

He smirked, clearly satisfied with himself, before resting his head back against the seat, clearly thinking the conversation was over.

But you weren’t about to let him get away that easily.

“Did I mention I get motion sick easily—”

Finn’s face blanched instantly, his smug expression vanishing. “Do not,” he said through gritted teeth, gripping the seat like his life depended on it.