When besties find themselves with a valuable heirloom, they flee from the dangerous people who want it—and in the height of adrenaline, their true feelings come out. Rating: M

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In the rearview mirror, two motorcycles barrel down the highway, weaving through traffic as they try to catch up.

I curse, accelerating until my SUV groans with the effort.

“Faster!” Suki yells from across the bench seat, fingers digging into my upper arm.

“I can’t steer if you’re holding my arm!” I shout.

“Sorry!”

I want to hold her and protect her as I drive but I need both hands on the wheel and my full attention. I’ve never driven so fast in my life, and every sense is tingling.

Suki brings her knees to her chest and curls into a ball, her usual position when we’re watching movies on the couch. And like a movie night, she’s in sweatpants and a hoodie, her dark hair in a messy bun. I’m in full-on pajamas.

When she asked me to come over earlier, I thought we’d be chilling and eating chips.

“Fuck, I shouldn’t have brought you into this,” she says, making fists in her already messy hair. “Thea, I’m so sorry. This is all my—”

“No, it’s good that you did,” I say firmly. “You shouldn’t face this alone. We’ll figure this out, okay?”

I mean it. I’d do anything for this girl, and I think our current situation proves it.

I weave between the moving cars like they’re sitting still, passing them recklessly. The steering wheel shudders. My hands throb from gripping it so tightly.

The road conditions are awful—rainy, slick, the sun plunging us into darkness as it sets behind the clouds. If a car cuts us off, if my tires lose traction, or if I clip a sign as we zoom by on the shoulder, I’m going to lose control.

But I don’t want to think about what’ll happen if those motorbikes catch us. When those men showed up outside Suki’s door, that was the first time I’d seen a pistol in real life.

“Your grandma never mentioned the journal before she died?” I say.

“No. I found it in her attic when we were cleaning out her house. I didn’t think…”

The journal sits in Suki’s lap, ancient, leather-bound, with a symbol that looks like an eye embossed in the center.

Why would Suki’s grandma own something that men with guns would come after? What could they possibly want with it?

“She obviously had it for a long time,” Suki says, craning her neck to look out the rear window. “It wasn’t until I posted a picture of it on Instagram that the cryptic messages started coming in—strangers offering me money, threatening me, telling me to mail it somewhere because it’s not mine to own.”

“But what’s in it that could possibly—”

“Thea, they’re catching up!” Suki yells.

I curse, checking the rearview mirror. Damn, these motorbikes are fast.

“Hold on tight.” I hit the brakes and crank the wheel, driving into the median.

Suki screams as we bump through the ditch and over the grass, and I’m grateful for seatbelts. The hairbrush and lip balm in my cup holder bounce out and hit the floor.

On the other side, traffic flows steadily in the opposite direction. We don’t have time to wait for a gap. I lean on the horn and accelerate, merging into the carpool lane whether the traffic is ready for me or not.

People honk and swerve, and there’s a thump as someone clips the back of the SUV, but I straighten out and keep going.

“Are you okay?” I say, a tremor going through me as I glance over.

“Yes. Eyes on the road!” Suki looks out the back window again, breathing fast. “I think that did it. I don’t see them.”

My heart is in my throat. These guys won’t give up that easily. It’s a matter of time before they catch up again.

“Where’s the nearest police station?” I say. I drove us all the way out to a rural part of town, and I don’t know this area well enough to figure out where to find help.

“Not until I figure out what the notebook means,” Suki says. “I can’t risk anyone asking me to hand it over. What if it’s something she wanted me to have?”

I don’t know how to respond. On the one hand, we’re being chased by two men with guns because we have something they want, so this seems like a good time to go to a police station. On the other hand, I don’t want to tell Suki what to do with a family heirloom, and I’m really curious about what the heck this journal contains.

She turns on an overhead light and opens the journal, studying the handwriting. The pages are full of vertical text. The weird thing is that the characters are totally illegible. Nobody in Suki’s family could figure out what the pages say, and the internet was of no help. It’s like the journal was written in a language of its own.

The way she’s hunched over the book, fingers tapping the edge, loose strands of hair touching the page, reminds me of all the time we spent studying after school. How many times did our study sessions stretch on for hours as we enjoyed each other’s company? And how many of those hours did I spend secretly making heart-eyes at her, wishing we could be more than friends?

A lot. And I’m doing it again.

I force my attention back to the matter at hand. “Okay. We’ll stay hidden and figure out what this book means before we get help.”

I feel her gaze on the side of my face. She looks at me like this sometimes, a complicated thought process going on behind her brown eyes. I wish I knew what she was thinking. I know what I want her to be thinking, but I’m probably wrong.

After a moment, she says quietly, “I seriously owe you.”

“You don’t. Let me be your ride or die, Suki.”

In my periphery, she gives a weak smile. It’s something I said to her as a joke the day we met in tenth grade, when she was the new girl and I was assigned to show her around.

Ride or die. I bite my lip to hide a grimace. I never would’ve guessed that we would be in this position three years later.

I veer onto the shoulder to pass a few cars and exit the highway. Night falls as we barrel down a rural road, plunging us into blackness. I pass two and three cars at a time, praying for no oncoming traffic. Headlights illuminate the inside of the car in bursts. My windshield wipers scrape loudly, filling the silence.

“Your grandma was a great woman,” I say, glancing at the mysterious book. “Remember when we—”

“The sleepover,” Suki says, some tension leaving her shoulders.

I grin. “Still the best sleepover ever.”

Part 2 coming tomorrow! Read the full story right now on “Sweet & Spicy Sapphic Stories” at patreon.com/tianawarner. Plus you’ll get early access to next week’s story. Your support really helps me out and lets me keep writing :)