My phone rings, drawing my attention away from the book I am reading. I mark the page with my makeshift bookmark. Setting the book down on my bed, I slowly reach for the phone, not in any hurry to answer it. In my experience, my phone ringing is never a good thing.

I roll my eyes when my mother’s name pops up on the screen. I hold the phone in my hands, deciding whether or not to answer it. Realizing that she won’t stop calling if I don’t, I finally pick up.

“Hello?”

“Alexis, why haven’t you called? I’ve left you three messages.” Her voice is dripping with disappointment and annoyance.

I pet my cat, Smoky, to distract myself. “I’m sorry. I’ve just been busy working.”

I swear I can hear her eyes rolling. “Well you don’t have to lie. I know that meaningless job you have doesn’t keep you that busy.”

Hearing her call my job meaningless for the hundredth time annoys me. “Is there something you need?”

“You need to come home. Your sister’s engagement dinner is this weekend and you WILL attend.” She clearly wants to say more about my attitude, but restrains herself. She doesn’t want to push me right now because she needs something from me.

“And why do I need to be there for that?” Smoky jumps off my lap and darts for the bedroom door, probably scared from hearing my mother’s voice.

“It is a very public affair and the whole family needs to be involved. Why do you have to be so selfish?”

“I’m really busy this weekend. I don’t know if I can make it on such short notice.” I’m playing with her now, only to stall the anxiety that rises in my chest at the thought of going home.

“I’ve been leaving you messages for weeks regarding this weekend. Don’t act like I didn’t give you enough notice. Don’t make me send your father up there. You know I will,” she threatens.

“Fine, Mom.”

“Thank you. Be here by dinner on Friday. The engagement dinner is Saturday night and then we will have brunch Sunday morning.” I can hear the excitement in her voice. It’s not excitement about finally seeing her daughter again, though; she is only excited because she got her way.

“See you this weekend, Mom.” I hurriedly hang up the phone before she can insult me further by telling me to get a more presentable haircut, or to make sure my nails are done properly.

It has been six years since I have been home, and I still have no desire to go back.

Before my mind wanders to the reason I ran away in the first place, I pull back my blankets and slide underneath them.

* * *

Morning comes way too quickly, as is always the case when something dreadful lies in wait at the end of the day. Smoky’s big green eyes are the first thing I see when I open my eyes, only an inch away from my own.

This used to scare the shit out of me, but I’ve gotten used to it. I smile and rub his head before pulling him against my chest.

“Good morning, Smoky. Let me guess, you’re hungry.”

He responds with a meow that I assume means ‘yes’.

His soft fur tickles my nose and makes me laugh. “Okay, let’s get you some breakfast.”

* * *

I am absolutely terrified of going home. So, naturally, the day passes by unusually quickly.

My phone rings while I’m packing my bag, and I answer it wearily.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Alex. I got your message and I don’t mind stopping by to feed Smoky for you this weekend.” It’s Jeff.

A long breath escapes my lips. “Thank you so much. I will make it up to you, I promise. Do you still have your key?”

“Yeah, I have it. And don’t worry about making it up to me. I like it when you owe me.” His tone is teasing, but I don’t doubt that he does. “What are you going out of town for anyway?”

“My mother,” I practically spit out.

“Ahhh, I see. Need me to show up and bail you out?”

I laugh. “I wish you could. I have a feeling she isn’t letting me go before Sunday afternoon.” I throw myself down across my bed and stare up at the white ceiling tiles. “I appreciate this, you know.”

“It’s not a problem. But Sunday night, you’re mine.” His voice grows thick and is laced with all sorts of dirty things.

“Deal,” I say, turning over onto my stomach. Smoky is across the room jumping up and down, trying to get the curtain.

“Quit that,” I tell him, tossing a small decorative pillow towards him. Unfortunately, he knows that I would never actually hit him, so he is unfazed by the pillow.

I roll my eyes but leave him alone. Who am I to stop his fun?

“I need to go, Alex. I have to get back to work. Call me this weekend if you need me.”

“I will. Thank you, again.”

“You will be doing plenty of that on Sunday,” he teases before hanging up.

I fear that he is getting too serious.

We are just friends.

Friends that hook up because we’re both too fucked up for anyone else.

I’m afraid we may have taken our friendship too far.

I am not in a position to be in a relationship, which is part of the reason we started this thing we are doing. It’s been a long time since my last relationship.

A loud noise interrupts my thoughts. I jump and turn toward the sound to find that Smoky has finally gotten the curtain and managed to pull the whole rod down from the wall.

“Smoky, you’re lucky you’re so cute,” I smile and shake my head at him.

* * *

I finish packing and am on the road by two in the afternoon, with a tankful of gas and a passenger seat stocked with Red Bull and Pringles.

My heart pounds against my chest as I pull onto the freeway.

“I can do this. If I’m careful, I can probably get through the whole weekend without seeing him,” I tell myself, trying to wrestle my racing heart back under control. My eyes flash to the passenger seat. “Maybe Red Bull wasn’t a good idea.”

In an attempt to drown out any thoughts, I dig my copy of Blink-182’s self-titled album out of the glove box and slide it into my CD player. Their music always soothes me, especially when the volume is cranked all the way up.

* * *

Two and a half hours later, I see my exit. The volume on my radio automatically lowers as I exit the interstate and slow the car down.

“Don’t get quiet on me now, I need you more than ever,” I say, turning the dial back up.

Hanging a right off of the ramp, I cruise as slowly as possible without appearing suspicious until I pass the sign on the side of the road that proclaims “Welcome to Cumming”. The sign fills me with memories.

Striker is sitting on the ground smoking a cigarette while I make adjustments to our town sign.

“How’s it look from back there?” I ask him.

“It looks like a giant dick,” he answers.

I turn and look over my shoulder at him before laughing at the stupid grin on his face.

He has his hood pulled up, shadowing all but his lips.

“Okay, I think I’m done.” I take a few steps back to admire my handiwork.

The sign that previously said “Welcome to Cumming” now reads “Thanks for Cumming”. Below these words, a massive spray-painted dick is ejaculating onto the state bird.

He walks up behind me and my back presses into his strong chest. The contact automatically stirs up all the feelings that I’ve been trying to hold back.

“I knew that fucked-up head of yours could come up with something.” The amusement in his voice is clear.

I turn and look up at him. His green eyes light up and remain locked on mine. I love his eyes. They remind me of laying in the shaded grass on a hot summer day. I don’t want to pull my eyes away from his, but instead end up watching as he pulls his bottom lip into his mouth and releases it. My eyes are transfixed on his moist lips.

“Lex, I’m going to kiss you now.” His eyes watch me intently.

Heat creeps up into my cheeks. “Okay.” I nod, watching his jaw twitch.

He moves so slowly that I wonder if he’s changed his mind. He places his hands on either side of my face, maintaining his intense gaze. I moisten my lips in preparation for the kiss, and close my eyes. After a pause that feels like forever, his soft lips finally touch against mine.

It’s like an electric shock to my body. They move slowly with my own lips, and all I want to do is devour him. I have dreamt about this kiss for years. Why is he finally giving into me now?

I lift my hands and hang onto his jacket, pulling him closer. His scent teases me. I want nothing more than for him to throw me down in the grass and show me what else that mouth is capable of.

He doesn’t, though. Instead, he pulls away. His hands are still on my face and he leans his forehead against mine. “I’ve been waiting years to do that,” he whispers into the darkness.

I’m breathless. I want to ask him why he waited so long. I want to know if this is going to change things for us. But I don’t ask him any of that. I just close my eyes, feeling his heat sink into me, and relive our passionate, utterly perfect first kiss. The kiss that makes me know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I am in love with Striker Murphy.

Seeing that sign brings back everything I felt that night and everything I ran away from six years ago. I shake my head to clear the thoughts and pull out the emergency pack of cigarettes that is tucked in my purse. They have been sparsely used lately, only in times of extreme stress, but I have a feeling that I will have burnt through the entire pack by this weekend.

I light the cigarette and take a long drag, instantly feeling some of the tension leave my body. The smoke flows out of my open window, where it swirls and fades away into the trees.

The bump as my car crosses the railroad track signals that I have reached the edge of town. There is no turning back. A wave of anxiety rises in my chest and I take another long drag of my cigarette, hoping to kill the feelings.

Continuing on, I keep my eyes straight ahead and avoid looking at the houses and buildings – each of which is home to some long-forgotten, often painful memory.

“Just drive. Don’t look around, and don’t stop until you get where you are going,” I tell myself.

A siren blares behind me, followed by a flash of red and blue, and it is no longer possible to ‘just drive’.

My eyes move to the rearview mirror. “Fuck! Already?”

I flick my cigarette out of the window and slowly pull to the side of the road.

An old man exits the vehicle and walks up to the side of my car, adjusting the belt around his large waist. He taps on the window and I roll it down the rest of the way.

“Alexis Grant, I’ll be damned. I never thought I’d see the day.”

“Hi, Officer Willis. How are you on this lovely day?” I say politely with my eyes straight ahead, refusing to look at him. This old geezer has had it out for me ever since I was twelve-years-old. Ever since he suspected me and Striker of stealing the police car he left the keys in. He never could prove it was us, especially since it now resides at the bottom of the town lake.

“Skip the pleasantries, Grant. What do you think you’re doing back here?” He smooths down his thick black and gray mustache.

Who does he think he is? He doesn’t own this town. I can come here anytime I damn well please. I turn towards him in anger and say, “I’m here for my sister’s engagement dinner. Is that okay with you? Or have you become the town mayor since I left?”

His response is a low grunt. “How long you staying?”

“Just this weekend, and then I promise I will be out of your hair,” I say with my hands in the air, like I’m throwing in the towel. If he wants this town so bad, he can have it. I don’t even want to be here, and yet here I am, already being harassed by the town sheriff.

“Let me know when you leave, I’ll escort you out… again.” He turns to walk away, but stops. “And don’t even think about meeting up with Murphy. He’s been in enough trouble all on his own.” Now that he thinks he’s gotten the last word, he resumes walking to his car.

“Okay, Barney.” It slips out of my mouth before I can stop myself.

The words stop him in his tracks. He comes back to me and leans down, resting his hands on the side of my car. “What did you call me?”

I stifle back a laugh. “I didn’t call you anything. Maybe it’s time you retire, Officer Willis. It’s dangerous for a man of the law to be going senile.” My laughter is contained, but I can’t hold back my smile.

“That’s it, step out of the car.” He opens my door for me.

All humor is gone now. “What? Why?” I reach out and close the door, refusing to move.

He stands up straight. “You’re under arrest. Now, get out.”

“For what?” I yell back, a little too loudly.

It takes him a minute to think of a good answer. “Obstruction of justice. Now, if you don’t get out of that car it will also be for resisting arrest.”

“Are you serious? I’ve barely made it twenty feet into town and you’re going to arrest me? If I didn’t know any better, I would say you’re still holding a grudge against me. Even though we both know that I had nothing to do with your old police cruiser.”

That clearly struck a nerve. The police cruiser, which I may or may not have sunk, was a gift from the town, a reward for his many years of dedicated service. He points his finger at me angrily. “We both know that you and Murphy stole that cruiser. Get out of the car, NOW!”

I take a deep breath before grabbing my purse and opening my door.

The handcuffs are securely around my wrists before I can even think of anything else to harass him about, and he yanks my purse from me.

I calmly head to the police cruiser and take a seat in the back while he stands outside and calls a wrecker to pick up my car.

My dad is going to have a field day with this one.