Craving

"Jesus Christ, John," said Grant, "what's your damn rush!"

Grant unclenched after the last hairpin turn. It might have been after midnight, but there was no cause to turn left at a red light without braking, even if there was no other traffic. He tested his seatbelt, pulling quickly on it away from his body, making sure that it held taught. He gripped the seat when he saw the next turn looming ahead.

"I thought you wanted to get there in time too. Didn't you say you wanted some?" John asked. He stared fixedly on the road.

"Yea, but in one piece please."

Grant knew his mom's minivan wasn't built for this kind of driving. He never should've let his maniac of a friend get behind the wheel. If anything happened to the car, his parents would make his life miserable when they got back.

"This is a local road. Local! Slow down!" he shouted, eyeing the speedometer with apprehension.

"Almost there..." came the calm reply.

Tires screeched to a halt as they narrowly missed hitting a driver who foolishly thought he had the right of way at an all-way stop intersection just because he got there first.

Grant braced himself by pressing his hands in front of him. He breathed hard. In between breaths he said, "Get out. I'm driving."

"What for? We're here," said John, pointing to the illuminated white exterior of the White Castle across the street.

They pulled up to the drive-thru speaker.

John leaned out of the window. "You guys still serving?"

There was a small pause, then some static before the voice came over the speaker.

"Sir, we're open 24 hours. What would you like tonight?"

Grant resisted the urge to clobber his friend.