It’s hard to explain rural Texas to someone who has never seen it before. On any given day you can stand on the roof of my dad’s house, turn in a slow circle, and the horizon will follow you in a perfect line. Flat is an understatement—at least, it is here, in the gateway to the panhandle. Down in places like Big Bend and the Hill Country, it’s a different story entirely, but I’d only ever been south of where we lived once, and I’d been too young to appreciate it. I’d lived in Childress, Texas, since birth, and though the town wasn’t small enough to know everyone in it, it was damn close, and there were only two things everyone here seemed to have in common: a love of football and a love of country music.

That may seem like a large carpeted statement, but it’s true, and although I like country music just fine, it’s not my first choice. It never has and probably never will be. I’m more of a classic rock kind of girl. Throw me music from Bad Company, Bob Seger, Led Zeppelin, or Bon Jovi, and I’m in Hog Heaven. A good ballad speaks to my soul in ways country was never able to. The music drove into the heart of me, offering familiarity. My love for classic rock started out as a means of comfort because my mom was always playing her vinyl collection as she danced around the house with me as a child. Rock music was like the blood that pumped through her veins. It was her food for thought. It matched the rhythm of her very own drum beat, and it soon became glaringly obvious that music was the same thrum in the veins for me. Our taste in music was the connection I still had with her, even after she died when I was eight.

My favorite thing to do most days was to jump into my ancient Buick and drive north toward the state line. It was there where I would slip into one of the empty fields and park under the low hanging branches of my junk trees and weeping willows while lounging on the hood of my car, the radio blaring classic rock as I tried to get my homework done. Either that or participate in my other favorite thing to do: read. There were some days I would just lay there with my eyes closed, glad for the escape from the constant noise that filled my dad’s house at all hours of the day and night while he partied – a daily occurrence now.

The road that led out to my grove of trees always had the optical illusion of hitting the horizon in the late afternoon. The heat mirage hovering over the asphalt made the air sway and ripple above the surface, enticing me to keep driving until I ran out of road—or gas, which was more likely. Hardly anyone would miss me if I left. I was the ghost who was barely in existence, on the edge of everyone’s peripheral, but I’d long ago taught myself to blend into the scenery for self-preservation. I’d never broken myself of the habit once I’d achieved the goal, either. Why bother? Life was easier when you weren’t expected to please anyone. No one set your goals when they forgot you were there.

The highway wasn’t typically busy, but tonight the asphalt was deserted. Friday night in Texas meant that all eyes of our little town were trained on Childress High School’s football stadium. As summer faded and the nights became shorter, the earlier the stadium lights were flicked on in preparation for Friday night’s big game. The football team this year was supposed to be one of the best—it was what the fans said every year—and they finally had a chance to go to state and win. I’d believe that when I saw it happen, and considering I didn’t go to the games because it would require participation on some basic level, that would only be happening on this side of never. I didn’t participate in the big event, prepare for the upcoming game or exude cheer. I didn’t do anything that could be seen as celebrating leading up to it, but again, no one really noticed, and I was more than okay with that. If I was to miss something of significance, my best, and only friend, Megan was sure to give me an update on the situation. She attended every game, pep rally, and bake sale the school organized. She was the social butterfly of our odd coupling, and she loved to tell me the gossip she heard because I was the end of the line. Who the hell was I going to tell?

I smiled at the road again, enjoying the endless possibilities of what lay ahead as it stretched out to the horizon. This small part was the only time I pulled my eyes from the road ahead to note the break in the natural brush and peer down the turning that led to my dad’s house. As I’d known, passing the drive had been the right decision to make. There were already four cars parked outside the house, and I could only imagine how much alcohol they’d consumed since they’d arrived.

I sighed and continued, resolved that my night was going to be just as I’d planned. Leaning forward, I turned up the stereo and sang along with the lyrics, my lips curling into a smile as the signal became stronger with every foot closer I got to my special place. I’d barely made it another mile down the road when I heard the roar of an engine tearing up behind me, eating up the distance between us. I was doing the speed limit, so I could only imagine how fast the truck behind me was moving. The driver had the vehicle floored, too. The noise of dual exhausts drained my blaring radio as he neared, edging the bull bars closer and closer to my back bumper as he did. The entire road was open for them to pass me. There was nothing ahead, and there was nothing coming for miles in the opposite direction, but the good defensive driver that I was, I made a decision and eased onto the narrow shoulder in common courtesy. The gesture was normally enough to make someone ease by so I could continue on my way, not bothering anyone. Unfortunately, whoever was behind the wheel of that truck was either in a hurry and unaware of the passing laws in the great state of Texas, or they were aware that every sheriff, cop, and trooper would be at the football game meaning they could mess with me all they wanted with little repercussion. Even I knew that was the standard. The law enforcement attended the game, in professional and personal capacity, and it had been that way for at least as long as I’d been alive.

The truck lurched forward again, and my heart started pounding heavily enough to make a ringing start in my ears and anxiety dampen my palms. I’d executed everything Drivers Ed had advised, and I had no idea what to do in the middle of nowhere with no way to get away from the douchebag who was less than a foot from touching my trunk. In a final attempt to steer him away from me, I stuck my arm through my open window and tried to wave him by.

“Come on, asshole, go around me,” I said under my breath. The driver was playing a dangerous game, and I wasn’t a willing participant. I wasn’t that confident a driver. I had no idea what I’d done to offend the jackass enough to ride my ass, but he was pushing my foot onto the gas a little harder every inch he crawled closer, and my ancient car couldn’t handle much more of the abuse. My steering wheel was already trembling under my white-knuckled grip, but the truck lingered behind me like a bad smell, falling back only inches as he eased off the gas before rocking forward again to get as close as he could without touching.

It was like a cat playing with a mouse.

A twisted hunk of metal appeared right in my path on the shoulder. It came out of nowhere and disappeared under the car, seconds before a loud bang preceded a loud hiss and the pop of my tire. This was followed closely by the sound of all Hell rising and hitting the underside of the car, assuring me that the tire was now shredding apart and littering the highway behind us. My car swayed to the left before violently pulling me right again and down the small embankment into the drainage ditch where long grass accompanied the cloud of dust that now rose around me. The noise alone was terrifying. Grass and rocks ran along the underside of the car pinging and popping along with the music that was in and out of service, intermittently feeding into the white noise of chaos.

I managed to ease my foot on the brakes, steering into the spin as the radio found reception again and blared, while the car trembled and skidded to a complete stop, cutting everything out, leaving only the music playing merrily from the radio. The ringing in my ears was deafening when I dragged in a breath, but my trembling hand reached out and pushed the button on the radio leaving nothing but the clicking of expanding metal and the rain of stones settling around the car. The sound of insects regaining their previous chorus soared, but it was a sign of life that I needed to remind myself that I was okay and the world continued on.

Breathing for the first time, in what felt like minutes, I peeled my other hand from the steering wheel and dropped them into my lap with a small whimper. I was aware of the door to the truck opening behind me. I also heard the crunching of boots on the dirt through my open window where the dried dust cloud was settling. I even heard the rain of expletives as he jerked open my door, but I couldn’t move. I was frozen in partial shock.

“What the hell, lady?” the gruff tone spat contemptuously like the whole damn thing had been my fault.

I recognized his voice well and didn’t need to look at him to know who was standing there.

Dustin Hill was a senior at Childress High, and he was also the best defensive end the school had ever had, and the reason the team had a chance at State this year, which made him the best-known person in town. The boy was revered by everyone and worshipped by most, and I was always surprised when he didn’t have the drill team rolling out a red carpet everywhere he went. I finally glanced up at him as my anger rose enough to make my skin tingle. Everything from his square jaw to the spattering of stubble just pissed me off. His well-worn CHS baseball cap was bent to ridiculous proportions, and his football jersey hung loosely everywhere from the lack of pads—well, everywhere but his biceps, where he was gripping the door too roughly. Not that I was looking.

“Excuse me?” I demanded, my voice uneven and pitchy as I turned my head and glared up at him. His unusually bright blue eyes were piercing and bloodshot as they assessed me right back. “I believe you were the one riding my ass, while I was the one giving you room to go around me, right before I ran over whatever the fuck that was back there? I think I should be the one asking what the hell you were doing, asshole.”

“Wait. You ran over something?” There was less judgment and an injection of guilt in his tone that made me feel a little more validated in being as angry as I was.

“No, I make a habit of swerving all over the road and hitting the dirt just for the fun of it,” I said sardonically, popping my seatbelt open then pushing my dark hair from my face. “My tire shredded up because of it. Are you that self-involved you didn’t notice rubber making a quick evacuation from the back of my car?”

“How the fuck am I supposed to see that? I’m in a truck.”

“No,” I said, sliding from my seat and rising to my shaky legs. “It has nothing to do with your being in a truck, and everything to do with the fact that you were so far up my ass you couldn’t see anything. What the hell were you doing, anyway? Why are you even out here? Shouldn’t you be wowing your adoring fans in the stadium? Flexing your muscles to the tune of All Hail Dustin Hill and shit?”

“You know who I am?”

Was he serious? After everything that I’d just said, he was hung up on the fact that I knew his name? I rolled my eyes and pushed past him to march free of the dust cloud and the dried earth I could taste on my tongue. Dustin followed as closely behind me as he had been driving, and the smell of bourbon washed over me. The fresh and familiar odor was enough to make my stomach roll. At least that explained his red-rimmed eyes.

“Jesus. You’ve been drinking?” I accused unapologetically.

“How do you know who I am?”

I ignored his question as he pushed his hands into his pockets and stared at me with his head cocked, waiting for an answer. The football team—or more accurately, its players—obtaining alcohol, wasn’t exactly a new thing. Any of them could get access to it at any store in town that they entered, no questions asked. They normally left their inebriation until after the game, though, and the whole team partied the night away in their little equipment barn the school always “forgot” to lock. This party destination was a renowned safe place where the team could stay, get messed up, and pass out, instead of attempting to drive home—while the town turned a blind eye to the beginning stages of early-onset alcoholism. Just another small perk of their superstar status that consistently turned out alcoholics and perpetual jerks that peaked in high school.

“Who cares if I know who you are? You were drunk driving, and you could have killed us both.”

“Who are you?” he asked, completely ignoring my indignation and closing one eye to examine me further. Lifting his cap with one hand, he ran the other over his flat hair before he pulled it back into place, his hands planting themselves on his hips as he looked at me expectantly when I didn’t respond. “Well?”

“I’m a junior at Childress high. Why does it matter?”

“It doesn’t, I guess. I’ve just never seen you before.”

“Big shock there,” I mumbled, waving my hand in front of my face to get rid of a mosquito before planting it over my eyes to look up at him without being blinded “You wanna tell me why you were trying to kill me?”

“I wasn’t. I just couldn’t see that well. There were two cars, and I was trying to figure out which one was the real one.” He had the audacity to laugh at that and rocked back on his heels.

“Are you kidding me?” I snapped, looking up and seeing his red eyes. He was either really drunk, or he had the beginnings of pinkeye.

“Yes,” Dustin said, laughing once without humor. He kicked the dirt with his boot harder than necessary sending a stone skittering into my car. “Well… partly. I’ve only had a mouthful or three. I’m not drunk yet. I was just on my way to get drunk.”

“And you were driving like an idiot because...?”

“It don’t matter.”

“Yeah, it kinda does. You could have killed us both,” I said again, examining his handsome face with a little more scrutiny. “Are you high?”

“No, but I like the way you think.” He clicked his fingers together and pointed at me, flashing his most charismatic smile in my direction. “Do you know where I could score some recreational drugs?”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” I demanded, stepping away from him like I could contract what he had by sharing the same air. He was frantic and chaotic, his red eyes darting from side to side as he scratched the side of his nose. He was starting to scare me, and though I was sure it hadn’t been his intention, I couldn’t calm my heart down enough to make it hear reason.

“Nothing's wrong with me. I just need to get kicked off the team fast.” Dustin turned away from me and started toward the back of his truck like he hadn’t dropped that little landmine on top of everything else. It took a while for the words to register in my addled, anxiety-strewn mind, but the moment they did, I found myself following him, my curiosity getting the better of me.

Dustin pulled down his tailgate and hopped up, his legs swinging idly as he stared at the ground below him solemnly. His eyes were cast into shadow by the bill of his cap, but it wasn’t hard to see that he was deeply bothered by something.

“Why do you need to get kicked off?” I asked inquisitively. “Couldn’t you just, I don’t know, quit?”

It was none of my business, and I wasn’t even sure he would answer me, but whatever his problem was, it seemed to be bothering him enough to act erratically in an attempt to be kicked from the team. This kind of behavior was a cry for help if ever I saw one. I normally would have walked away and let someone else deal with the fallout. I was better suited to fading into the shadows than being front and center for problem-solving. Unfortunately, I was the only one here now, and Dustin seemed like he really needed to talk to… well… anyone.

Patting the tailgate next to him in an invitation, Dustin leaned forward, his forearms resting on his thighs as he waited for me to comply. It wasn’t an order, it was a request, and I couldn’t see any harm in sitting there while he bent my ear. It wasn’t like he would even remember I existed on Monday. I had nothing to lose but time, and that was something I had plenty of.

Slipping up next to him, I folded my legs under me and turned to face him, watching as he pulled the bill of his cap farther down over his eyes to hide them from me. I watched him carefully, studying the way he pinched the bridge of his nose before pushing his index finger and thumb out over the tops of his cheeks. It took me a while to recognize what was going on. I wasn’t great with social prompts, either, apparently. I had a total of one friend, and she was pretty straightforward. I don’t think I’d seen a guy cry since my dad had at Mom’s funeral. It was something most men hid well from the world around them, especially from kids and women—which was ridiculous—and if I hadn’t been studying Dustin as intensely as I had, I would have missed it.

“Dustin?” It was an invitation to talk, and to my surprise he took it.

“You ever feel like you’re running out of time? Like life is passing you by so quickly you start to feel dizzy?” he asked thickly.

“I think everyone does at one time or another, and it probably gets worse the older you get. Why do you ask?”

“I’m running out of time… with my mom. She has terminal cancer, and they’ve given her a few years at most. They’re trying everything they can to help her to give her more time, but the end is still an inevitability. No cure. No hope.” He shrugged. “No time. That’s all I want with her.”

I let out a long, loaded breath. Every piece of air in my lungs forced itself from me as my heart tightened in my chest for him. My memories of the months following my mom’s death flooded my head like a dam had broken, and they kept coming until my stomach rolled painfully. I’d never wish that feeling on anyone. The hopelessness, the void that sat in the center of your chest, and the ache that always managed to linger in the jagged wound was too much to feel all at once. I’d lost my mom at a young age, and it had sucked, but to lose her now would… I couldn’t even imagine.

“I’m so very sorry, Dustin.”

He waved me off, grabbing a blade of the long grass that was hitting his calves as he swung his legs. There was no response to that, and I hadn’t really expected one. You couldn’t say thank you because in your head it sounded like you were fishing for sympathy. You couldn’t say it’s okay because it wasn’t, not ever, and with it still happening I doubted he would feel it would ever be okay again. So the wave was an appropriate response that said everything and nothing at all in the same breath.

“Can’t you just tell them that?”

“No one would listen. My dad told me I was going to play and that was that.”

“Your mom?”

Dustin laughed bitterly and started pulling the grass apart, throwing it back to the dirt below us and watching it flutter slowly. “She thinks I actually want to play, so she agrees with him.”

“And do you?”

“Sure, I love football, but I want to get to know her in every way. I want to spend as much time with her as I can before she dies because I know how much of a gift each day is. I think about all of that time I would waste on the field in practice, traveling for the away games, running, weight training. I only see her for an hour most days as it is.”

“Can you maybe tell her that?”

“Not without upsetting her,” he said, finally looking up at me with those impenetrable eyes. “I feel like I’d just be reminding her that her days are numbered. Dad just pretends it’s not happening, and my brother, Rett, he drinks all the damn time, so he doesn’t have to remember. I’m the only one that seems to be focusing on what life would be like without her in it.”

I understood that. I couldn’t even imagine knowing that death was on the tracks and refusing to be derailed. How did you reconcile with the inevitable? How did you cope with the huge part of your life, knowing it could be taken from you at any time? You couldn’t. This wasn’t about me, though. This was about Dustin, and where I could see his good intentions, I could also see the huge, Texas-sized flaw in it.

“So, your big plan is to get kicked off the team?”

“In a nutshell.” He shrugged.

“And how’s that working out for you?”

Dustin started laughing and turned to face me. It was the first time since he’d started talking that his face didn’t look stricken and gaunt. I could see why the female population of Childress High School went weak at the knees for him when he turned his smile on he was blinding.

“No one seems to give a shit. I’m afraid to try something more drastic, but, even then, I think I would be forgiven.”

“You’ll miss that one day.”

“Maybe,” he said, and then grinned brightly. “Probably. But right now, it’s inconvenient.”

I rolled my eyes at him playfully and dropped my legs, swinging them for a while as I let my mind mull over what I was about to offer. The shade of my trees had always been my escape, and I hadn’t even shared that solace with Megan. I’d discovered the small grove on one of my many ‘hikes’ after my mom had died.

“Okay. This is a one-time offer, but I can see you need the solace. If you help me change my tire, I will take you somewhere you can hide until after the game.”

“You gonna help me hide from the town?” He flashed me his grin.

I smiled and nodded. “It’s a one-time offer.”

“You’re using me for manual labor.”

“Well, it is your fault, so technically you should be offering anyway.”

“You’re not going to the game?”

“I never do,” I admitted, shuffling awkwardly.

“I should be insulted or something.” He looked out at the road. There was nothing coming. You could have seen a car approaching from miles away if there were any, but he knew as well as I did it was only a matter of time until the coach—or his dad—sent someone out to look for him.

“Well?” I asked, my hands pushing me up and off the tailgate. My skin was tingling from the heat of the metal. “That a yes or a no, Mr. Hill?”

“That’s a yes, along with a polite request never to call me that again.” He smiled and pushed off, his boots hitting the dirt with a dull thud that sent up a small cloud of dust. “Can I ask you a question first?”

“Sure. If you must,” I teased, heading back to my car and turning to walk backward so I was facing him.

“What the fuck is your name?”

I couldn’t help my small burst of laughter. Dustin sounded perplexed by the whole thing, as though he should know the name of everyone at school. “I’m Miki.”

“Just Miki?”

“For now,” I said, and then turned around to head to my car, my stomach feeling oddly warm.

It only took us thirty minutes to work out how to change a tire between us. Dustin was handy, and I was good at reading instructions. Between the two of us, we got my tire changed and were back on the road before another car made its way down the highway. I was pretty sure he wasn’t missed yet, just tardy, which meant they wouldn’t look for him for a while, but they would look. This season was their season.

Dustin followed me north toward the state line, keeping at a safe distance this time, choosing to drive slowly as we went off-road and headed toward the group of trees that had been my safe place for so long. Once we were both past the hanging branches of the willow, I cut my engine and flipped my radio on, climbing out of the open window and onto the hood of my car and crossing my ankles as I settled in for the long haul.

“How the hell did you find this place?” Dustin asked, turning in a circle before sliding onto the hood next to me and crossing his ankles to mirror mine. Bad Company’s Seagull was playing quietly, filling in the silence as he got comfortable, but it was only a matter of time before his eyes fell to me in search of an answer. In the quiet coolness of the trees shade, his scrutiny felt oddly intimate.

“I found this place when I was nine.” I reached up and pulled a leaf from a low-lying branch, twirling it between my fingers as I chose my words carefully. “I think it was one of my attempts to run away from home. I was just walking, and up this small grove popped from all the flatness, like a mirage in the desert. I was so hot that I crawled underneath with my doll, curled up and eventually went to sleep. I woke up the next morning covered in mosquito bites and decided I wasn’t cut out for camping.”

“Your parents must have been frantic.”

“My mom died the year before, and my dad didn’t really notice I was gone.”

I knew how pathetic that sounded. I could have lied and said my father had embraced me and made me promise never to run away again, but my dad made no apologies for his lifestyle, so I never felt the need to make excuses for him. If I ever needed an adult, I’d always gone to Megan’s mom, my godmother, Jennifer. She’d been my mom’s best friend since they’d been girls, and she was the only reason I even had a car.

“Come on. He didn’t notice?” The incredulity in his voice was easy to hear. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe what I was telling him, more that he couldn’t accept that a father wouldn’t worry that his nine-year-old daughter had gone missing. I think most people would think the same, and that was what made me feel the need to explain my sad past.

“My mom got pregnant with me when she was sixteen. My dad was seventeen. When I ran away, my dad was only twenty-six and making up for lost time in a big way.” I shrugged, my hands brushing along a low hanging branch slowly. “He loved my mom with all his heart, and she wanted me, but as much as my father loved me, I don’t think I was a choice he would have made. He still had so much life to live. He lost his football scholarship to be a dad and husband, and when mom died, I think he was trying to relive the golden years of his life.”

“Now he’s what? Thirty-something?” Dustin asked, his lip curled in disgust. “He still hasn’t got time to be a dad?”

“He doesn’t need to. I’m self-sufficient.” I left no room for discussion. I knew who and what my father was, and though I was more than resigned to that part of my life, I didn’t need someone who had no intimate knowledge of the situation making a judgment call.

Oblivious, Dustin curled an arm under his head and turned to study me. I could feel the intensity of his gaze and met it head on, my eyes holding his as I ignored the fluttering of uncertainty and excitement that spread under my skin and covered my entire body.

“That’s not healthy, Miki.”

“Probably not,” I agreed. “But I’m alive. I’m well fed. I go to school every day. His girlfriends leave me alone. His friends don’t even know I’m there, and I get on with my life, doing what I have to do to move on when I’m old enough to get the hell out of there.”

“Money?”

“He leaves me cash, and if he forgets, my mom’s best friend loans it to me and then collects from him.”

“When was the last time you had a conversation with him?” It was a really personal question, but he wasn’t prying. I think Dustin was more curious about my situation now. As long as I didn’t feel like a science project, I was happy to answer his questions.

“I think I was ten.” I was being sarcastic mostly, but ten was the last time my dad and I had shared any kind of meaningful conversation. We’d talked about Mom, and in a moment of lucidity, he’d apologized for never being there and promised to do better and be a father. The attention had lasted all of a week before he’d gone out to the bar and got drunk, forgetting about me all over again. That was when the women had started coming to the house, and I’d quickly learned to become invisible. There were only so many times you could stumble into a semi-dressed drunk woman on her way to the bathroom before you learned to stay in the shadows.

Dustin was almost too easy to talk to. He asked all the right questions—questions that made me respond without much thought. I’d never been a chatty person, and I normally gave my answers in as few words as necessary before attempting to blend back in with the walls, just in case anyone tried to have an actual conversation with me. Invisibility was a natural reaction to my unique situation.

Dustin gave as much, if not more than he took, and his open responses made me more comfortable than I should’ve been. There was nothing off the table, no topic too sensitive or disturbing, and it wasn’t until almost dawn that I finally hit a subject that he wasn’t inclined to expand on.

“Will Libby be pissed about your being gone tonight?” I asked quietly as his hand brushed against mine. During the course of the night, we’d slowly been gravitating toward one another and were currently almost nose-to-nose as we were laid on our sides. There was a deep intimacy in the way we talked, and the way he studied every inch of my face when he’d asked me a hard question. My faux pas had come only when I’d been staring at his lips for far too long and suddenly remembered he had a girlfriend, who was, of course, on the drill team and one of the most popular, beautiful girls in our school.

“I really don’t wanna talk about Libby tonight,” Dustin said, sitting up and resting his forearms on his drawn up knees. There was a finality in his tone that only made me more curious about his reaction. He’d been so open about everything else that these walls seemed jarring.

“I didn’t mean to upset you.” I rolled on my back and stared up at the sky that was beginning to lighten through the overhang of branches.

“You didn’t.”

I didn’t respond to that. There wasn’t much more to say since he’d shut down. If he wasn’t willing to talk about her with me, I wasn’t going to press him about that particular part of his life. I could take a hint.

My stomach grumbled angrily in the quiet that lingered between us. I’d turned my car on, let it run, and then switched it off to give the battery a rest while we’d continued to talk, and I’d forgotten to turn it back on. The only thing louder than my stomach’s complaints was the morning song of the birds that surrounded us. I guess that’s what happened when you neglected your body’s demands for almost twelve hours.

“Are you hungry?” Dustin asked sheepishly, looking over his shoulder at me and flicking the bill of his cap with his index finger. “You should have said. I have snacks in the cooler of my truck.”

That got my attention while dispelling the odd tension between us.

“What kind of snacks?” My tone was almost a growl, and my hands rubbed together like a cartoon villain’s.

“Jerky, sandwiches, and ribs. Probably some chips and other crap, too.”

“Sandwiches, you say?”

“Ham, cheese, and pastrami, I think.”

“You don’t do anything by halves, do you?” I asked as I rolled from the hood of my car and bounced on my toes eagerly, beating out a staccato beat on the warm metal fender. “Where can I find this treasure trove of food?”

“Backseat,” he said, before sliding from his side of the hood. I was already making my way there, though. My stomach was not happy and needed instant gratification, or the beast that lived within would be released. I was leaning into the back of his truck, over the cooler, when Dustin finally caught up with me. There were so many goodies inside the blue plastic square that I looked back over my shoulder at him in feigned shock.

“You had a treasure trove of candy and soda in here the whole time? You were holding out on me, Hill.”

I grabbed at a foot long sub sandwich, a bag of chips, soda, and a small bag of M&Ms before I felt him lean in behind me, his front pressed against my back as he reached around to take the sub sandwich from my full hands.

“That, right there, is mine,” he whispered in my ear, his warm breath making me shudder.

I’d never been flirted with before, but this really felt like a crash course in the art, and I was enjoying every second of his attention. Having him so close and feeling his warmth against me made me react in ways I wasn’t aware I was capable of.

“That’s not very chivalrous of you,” I forced out, trying to keep my eyes open rather than allowing them to slide closed in jubilation. Even twelve hours of sitting in the Texas heat with me, he smelled divine. He has a girlfriend, I reminded myself with a breath as he pulled back quietly, chuckling and pushing my body away from his, grabbing the smaller sandwich that was left behind.

“I never claimed to be chivalrous,” he confessed.

“I hear things.”

“I’m sure you do. You have a superpower.”

Unwrapping my sandwich, I took a bite and rolled my eyes in happiness as I headed back toward my car. When I got there, I set everything out in front of me before I settled back on the hood, not dignifying his backhanded compliment with a response.

“You’re also not like any other girl in school.” The comment came out matter-of-factly, but I took it as an odd kind of compliment.

“I never claimed to be,” I said, repeating his words back as I flashed him a smirk.

“Smart ass.”

“I like to think my brains are a bit higher.”

Rolling his eyes at me, Dustin reclaimed his seat on the other side of the car and unwrapped his sub with gleeful satisfaction. We both ate in silence for a while, enjoying our spoils and the gratification of a full stomach. The silence was companionable, but I could feel him thinking, rolling his words over his tongue before he turned to me with a sigh.

“She’s a bitch.”

I took my time and swallowed the food in my mouth before turning my head in his direction. I was pretty sure I knew who he was talking about, but considering the statement came from nowhere, I decided I needed clarification.

“I’m sorry? Who?”

“Libby. You asked about her. She’s a bitch, and I’m pretty sure she’s sleeping with half of the guys on the baseball team, too.”

“That sucks. She always plays herself off as the doting girlfriend to anyone who will listen.”

Dustin said something under his breath, throwing a chunk of bread that had broken off toward the trunk of the tree. “That was the bullshit I was buying, too. I just got to see the real her when I got back from training a little early once, this summer.”

“You caught her?”

“It was hard to miss the screams coming from her open bedroom window.”

“Oh shit.” I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to find the person you thought you loved with another person. I could imagine the betrayal was a violation—like the whole world had been pulled out from under you. I dropped what little was left of my sandwich on the packaging and dusted my hands off on my legs, unsure how to react.

“Although she doesn’t class it as cheating. According to her, he just went down on her, that’s all. It meant nothing.” He grunted and scratched his jaw idly. “Is that an actual rule or some shit?”

“I’m not an authority on relationships or the rules that go along with them, but that’s not a rule I know of. To me, cheating is cheating.”

“Thank you. That’s exactly what I said. She refuses to believe we’re broken up. Every time I tell someone it’s over, she tells them that it’s bullshit. It’s like a waking nightmare. My dad thinks I’m being an asshole about the whole thing.”

“What did he say?”

“Y’all are young,” he said in a gruff tone with a strong twang, obviously imitating his dad. “You’re supposed to experiment. Go out there, sleep with a few girls, get your dick sucked, and then make-up.”

“Ooh, classy.”

Dustin huffed out a laugh and took another bite of his sandwich. He was shaking his head from side to side in disgust. “The sad thing is, I tried to break up with her before the summer. She’s always been…”

“Clingy? Needy? Possessive?” I asked, snatching one of his chips.

“All of the above.” He laughed without humor. “Everyone thinks I’m nuts for trying to get away from her. ‘Y’all are supposed to be together, man’. ‘It makes sense’. Or, ‘She loves you, Dusty. Don’t give up on her now’. No one gives a shit what I want.”

“So you’re staying with her out of duty?”

“Hell no. I’m gonna keep dumping her ass until it sticks.”

I nodded in agreement, a small smile on my lips as I assessed him.

“Then what?”

“Then I’m gonna date someone I can have an adult conversation with.”

I looked down at my sandwich and grabbed at it, shoving as much of what was left in my mouth as humanly possible. There was no way in hell he was talking about me, but the denial didn’t stop the flip of my stomach when our eyes met.