“Shotgun!”

Lexi pushed past her friends standing in front of the parked car. In her hand are two bags. One is her school backpack; the other is her gym bag with her soccer uniform and cleats. She’s bright red and smells like the artificial grass from the field mixed with sweat. 

The two girls, who are also her teammates on the soccer team, roll their eyes. “Why do you always shout shotgun?” one girl asked with a pinch of annoyance seeping through. “Hudson always lets you ride up front.” 

Lexi stopped to look at her teammates. Her hand lay dormant on the car’s door. She’s more red from their comments than the two hours spent playing soccer. “You could sit up front too,” she answered. “Just call shotgun next time.”

A loud honk cuts the conversation short. “Come on, girls, get inside,” Hudson, the owner of the car, complained. He didn’t stay mad long as he flashed a smile at Lexi, visible to her from the rearview mirror.

***

While senior year meant one final year to play soccer before college for Lexi, for Hudson, her best friend, it meant getting his license. After studying throughout junior year, Hudson finally passed his test the summer before their senior year started. Gifted a car by his parents, Hudson not only had his license, but his own car. He even had his own parking spot at the high school. He quickly became known to his friend group as the car guy.

***

For Lexi, Hudson’s best friend since kindergarten, when they would play with tricycles, it meant she got to enjoy the car just as much. Hudson rarely ever drove his car alone, always accompanied by Lexi, who spent more time in the vehicle than the air fresheners tied on the front mirror.

It wasn’t a perk she abused, but a privilege she got to enjoy alongside Hudson. They did everything in the car, from impromptu drives to get slushies and burgers at various drive-thrus to late-night escapades to the park and beach just to chat. They planned their futures in the car, spending long hours into the night, wondering where they’d be in college and beyond. They filled an entire notebook with places they could road trip to. And of course, they had plenty of crying sessions, too. Hudson always promised Lexi she was safe in his car, free of judgment and the existence of the outside world. She wasn’t proud of how many times she cried in his passenger seat.

One night, with their seats reclined all the way back (which meant that whatever conversation they were having was going to take all night), Hudson promised Lexi he’d teach her how to drive. 

“You’d teach me? Like actually?” questioned Lexi. She felt around the car. Her fingers grazed the cushioned seats. “Are you tired of driving me everywhere?”

“Never,” Hudson joked. “But, don’t you want a car of your own?”

“Not really,” answered Lexi. “The thought of driving makes me uncomfortable.”

“You have to learn to live with being uncomfortable and just do it. Nobody is going to learn for you. If you want freedom, then take it. Plus, it’s a big flex. You could take out a girl you like.”

Lexi and Hudson spoke so openly about everything. He was her soulmate, not in the romantic kind because Lexi only liked girls, but in the best friend for life way.

“If there ever is a girl you like,” Hudson added.

“About that…”

Hudson lifted himself from the car seat that lay flat. He reached for his best friend. “Who?”

“Ferra. Remember her?” Hudson’s face blanked. “She transferred to another school in junior year, but she’s back. Coach let her back on the soccer team. We’ve been practicing a lot together.”

“Shit,” Hudson laughed as he slapped his forehead. “We gotta get you to learn to drive ASAP!”

***

Except Lexi didn’t learn how to drive. She focused all her time on soccer, practicing with Ferra and inviting her to hang out after. Because Hudson had a car, he offered to give them rides. It wasn’t rare for them to hang out for hours, the three of them together.

Each time, Lexi rode in the passenger seat and Ferra in the back. It wasn’t a problem. Lexi, who was so comfortable in the backseat like she was lying down in her own bed, never paid attention to Ferra, who snuck glances at Hudson from the rearview mirror, eyeing the driver like a soccer player targeting the goal.

One day, when it was only Lexi and Hudson hanging out, drinking milkshakes in the parking lot of their favorite fast food restaurant, the truth came out.

“Ferra likes me. She asked me out.”

It struck Lexi harder than a soccer ball to the face.

“I haven’t given her an answer yet,” he clarified. “It didn’t seem right. After all, you called dibs.”

“There is no dibs,” explained Lexi. “This isn’t like calling shotgun. Ferra is a person, and there’s nothing I can do if she likes you and not me. You can say yes. I promise I won’t be mad.”

And though a part of Lexi, the part that always liked being Hudson’s favorite, his go-to, his number one, and passenger princess, was hurt and wanted him to turn down Ferra, ultimately, she swallowed down her selfishness.

The next day, with Lexi’s blessing, Hudson and Ferra were officially dating. Initially, Lexi didn’t expect things to be different. But when practice was over, and she expected to ride in the passenger seat like usual, Lexi was shocked to find Ferra in her spot.

“Shotgun,” Ferra giggled and shut the door.

Lexi turned to Hudson, almost expecting him to kick out his girlfriend for taking her seat. “Sorry, Ferra, but that’s Lexi’s spot,” she fantasized. Instead, Lexi found herself seated in the unfamiliar back seat. And this continued throughout the week.

Not only was Lexi dethroned from her passenger seat and delegated to the back, but she only ever saw Hudson with Ferra. She was the third wheel to her own best friend.

A month into the routine, Ferra began to joke about Lexi’s presence. “You should really learn to drive.”

“That’s what I’ve been telling her,” agreed Hudson.

Embarrassed, Lexi sank into her seat, not only wanting to go home but to disappear entirely.

***

It was Friday after a game. When both girls finished changing, they waited for Hudson’s car to pull up at the parking lot. It was their normal routine. A month ago, Lexi would have killed for some alone time with Ferra. Now that she was Hudson’s girlfriend, however, she didn’t feel the need even to talk. They weren’t fighting for Hudson’s attention any more than Lexi was fighting for her rightful spot back. She remembered how natural it used to be to jump into Hudson’s passenger seat. Now, she felt like a stranger in her best friend’s car.

When Hudson’s car pulled up, Lexi didn’t get in. No longer did she want to be a backseat passenger.

“I’ll walk home today,” she told Hudson.

She almost wanted him to call her bluff, open the door, and drive off with her to any spot she chose, drinking slushies and talking for hours about their college road trip.

Instead, Hudson’s car drove off. The engine blew a raspberry goodbye.

As she watched the car disappear, Lexi wondered if Hudson snuck a peek at her in his mirror. She wondered if he even missed her presence at all.

For the first time in what seemed like forever, Lexi walked. Tired from the game, she could barely feel her leg muscles moving her forward. At the first red light, Lexi stared at the road where cars lined up eagerly waiting for the light to turn green.

She reached out her hand, imagining a steering wheel, and thought back to Hudson’s words: If you want freedom, then take it.

Finally, all the frustrations she swallowed overflowed. Her desire manifested. It was no one’s choice but her own. “I should really learn to drive.”

---

Ash Mojica (they/them) is a writer from Santa Ana, California. They aim to tell stories that start conversations. You can usually find them writing at their local coffee shop.