Nicole “Well isn't that just great,” Zach murmured as we hit the third red light in the past ten minutes. “There's no need to be so dramatic,” I teased, the only response I got was an eye roll. Unfortunately for us, red lights weren't our only problem. Less than five minutes later, we hit a stretch of road under construction, forcing us to take a detour through backroads that were anything but smooth. “This is ridiculous,” Zach muttered, gripping the steering wheel tightly as the car jostled over a particularly rough patch on the road that I assumed to be a pothole. “You need to chill,” I told him, “It was probably just a pothole.” He opened his mouth to retort but was cut off by a loud thud. “Oh, come on,” he groaned, pulling over once again. We both got out of the car to inspect the damage. Sure enough, the front passenger tire was completely flat. “Well, this is just delightful,” I said, crossing my arms. Zach sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Stay here
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