The fifth time Deaq looked up and shook his head, Van had enough. "What? You expecting aliens, maybe?"

"Nah, man." Deaq was driving, eyes locked to the interstate.

"So, what is it?"

"It's just." He shrugged. "I miss spring. Not winter, 'cause slush and shit sucks, but when that stops. Starts being young and green, with babies and puppies and half-naked girls with goosebumps instead of tans. I miss it."

Van put a hand on Deaq's knee, squeezed. "You really want a girl, baby?"

Deaq shook his head. "'Course not, pápi. Just—not enough changes in SoCal."

"You and me weren't together a year ago."

Deaq smiled.