For Whom the Bell Tolls

I'm trying to get my sister to make a Taco Bell run with me a la 2003. She would come in from Virginia around 11pm and then call me to come pick her up at Mom's house and driver her to Taco Bell. We were not seeking food. We were not seeking hot sauce. We just missed each other and our reason for "needing" to go out could easily be explained, as per the norm, with tacos.
But now that she lives a mere two Minutes away from me pulling her crack from the cracks of her couch is not unlike trying to get the nut meat out of a stubborn walnut.
She'll feign tiredness.
A headache.
A missed text.
But sooner or later, she will succumb to me, my persistence for nostalgia and the thrilling thrall of The Bell.