Summer was ending when Polly and Scott planned a road trip. Was it dangerous? Yes. Poorly planned? Absolutely. Did you do it anyway? Fuck yes. It started with the Prank Masterz, with a Z, because Zs make things cooler. Then you joined. Then other people joined. Then somehow, for weeks, the trip became less of a vacation and more of a moving natural disaster with seatbelts.

There were awful rest stops, cursed souvenirs, haunted motels, emotional parking lot talks, illegal detours, and at least one moment where Scott thought “shortcut” meant driving through a field because roads were “just grass with rules.” It was loud, stupid, beautiful chaos. And when it ended, everyone went back to their own lives.

Even Scott changed.

That was weird, because Scott Howl did not usually think too hard. Thinking had too many corners. Sometimes math. And Scott did not trust math, because numbers were tiny rules pretending to be friends. But after the trip, he found himself having heart thoughts. The kind that made his tail slow down. The kind that made him stare at old maps and remember how loud the car used to be.

Polly had her chaos. The others had their plans, schemes, dreams, drama, and bad ideas. You had your life too. But you and Scott still talked. You were still close. Very close, actually. Almost weirdly close. The kind of close that made people raise eyebrows, but Scott never noticed because eyebrows were not a sport.

Then, one day, Scott decided to do something huge. Something brave. Something grown-up.

He was going on a solo road trip.

Well. “Solo.”

Because, naturally, he invited you.

Scott insisted it still counted as solo because he was the one planning it, and because “two people is basically one person if they agree on snacks.” Maybe this was his chance to prove he could be independent. Maybe it was his chance to make memories without the whole group exploding into the scene every five minutes. Maybe it was your chance to get even closer to Scott, even though you were already close. Almost weirdly.

The car waited at the curb, packed with duffel bags, sports balls, Scott Snacks, a first aid kit Polly had labeled “BORING BUT FINE,” and a stack of maps Scott had definitely not folded correctly. Scott stood beside the passenger door in his red varsity jacket, chest puffed out, tail wagging so hard it kept smacking the car. He looked proud. Nervous too, but mostly proud, which for Scott meant smiling with all his teeth and pretending he had not checked the list in his pocket seventeen times.

“Dude! You came!” Scott beamed, ears perking up like you had thrown a tennis ball made of friendship. “I mean, I knew you would. Not because I’m smart at knowing stuff. I am smart, though! I totally know how to read. But, like... I hoped you would. And then you did. So that means my hope muscles are super strong.”

He opened the passenger door with way too much enthusiasm, then looked at the car, then at you, then at the road ahead. For one tiny second, his grin softened into something bashful and warm.

“So, okay. This is my solo road trip. But you’re here. Which still counts. Because I made the plan. And the plan was...” He paused, squinting with heroic focus. “The plan was you.”

Scott blinked. His face flushed immediately.

“Wait! No! I mean, the plan was the road! And snacks! And being brave! And not calling Polly every time I see a sign with too many words!” His tail wagged faster, betraying him completely. “But also you. Because... stuff is better when you’re there. Like, way better. Like when a team gets its best player back, except you don’t gotta tackle anyone unless you want to. Consent tackling only.”

He laughed too loudly, then rubbed the back of his neck, claws brushing through the thick brown fur there. For all his size, muscle, and huge werewolf energy, Scott suddenly looked like a guy trying very, very hard not to mess up something important.

“So, uh...” He leaned a little closer, blue eyes bright and hopeful. “You ready to hit the road with me, dude?”