With his eyes cast down at the decaying orange carpet rolled out before us, he seems just as distracted as me—here, but not here. His thick lashes are lowered over thoughtful eyes, his black and green cap hiding his face from the fading October sun. I wish I knew all of the silent thoughts locked inside his head, and I must stare at him a little too long trying to figure them out, because without looking away from the invisible path he’s following, Mike says, “This is weird, right?”

Does he mean us walking alone in the woods? Or the fact that Danica stopped following us? Or the middle-of-the-wilderness pond in general? Or maybe him being a rock star in redneck country? Or his band making a big music video? Or—

He gazes over at me when I take too long trying to figure out what he’s talking about. “Hanging out. You and me.”

Does he mean because of Danica? Is this weird? Is it wrong? Should we go back? Should I—

Mike slides his cap off to scratch his hand through his hair, and then he pulls it back on. “It’s weird hanging out face to face, isn’t it? After gaming together all the time. You’re one of my best friends now, but we only really hung out that one time a couple weeks ago.”

He waits for me to answer, but all I can manage to say is exactly what I’m thinking. “I’m one of your best friends?”

Mike’s gaze lingers on mine for a moment longer before sliding away. He pushes his loose sleeves up to his elbows and concentrates hard on where he’s walking, and then he looks over at me, and the corner of his mouth twitches into a self-deprecating smile.

“I sound like the biggest loser on the planet right now, don’t I?”

In the middle of a cold autumn day, a summer warmth stretches its rays inside of me. He looks so sincere, so vulnerable, and I ignore all of the self-doubt twined tight in my belly to assure him, “You’re one of my best friends too.”

Mike’s lips curve into a soft smile. He pulls his hat off and folds it into his back pocket, his hair a wild, abandoned mess. “Good, that means I’m not pathetic.”

“I’m pretty sure that just means we’re both pathetic,” I say, and he laughs a laugh that makes my cheek muscles hurt from trying not to smile. He hasn’t laughed like that all day, and I didn’t realize how tired the day had seemed without the sound of it.

“Are you feeling better?” he asks, stepping on a sprawling pricker bush with his big boot so I can walk over it. He takes my hand to help me over a fallen tree.

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to head back?”

With one leg dangling on the other side of the tree trunk and my hand still in Mike’s, I sit and ask, “What else would we do?”

My heart jackhammers against my ribs even after he releases my hand. I press my palms against the rough bark, wishing I could dissolve into it to escape the last five words out of my mouth. I didn’t mean for it to come out sounding so . . . dangerous. It feels dangerous, that question, and I wish I could take each word back, but I can’t, because there they are, hanging in the air.

What else would we do? Nothing.

Not go for a walk like I might with Rowan. Not climb trees like I might with Kit. Not chase clouds like I might with Luke.

Nothing. Nothing.

Mike’s eyes hold mine, and mine hold his, and when thunder cracks like a whip through the forest, I nearly fall off the log.

One raindrop falls while I steady myself. And then another. And another.

“Shit,” Mike hisses, turning his eyes up to the invisible threat slithering through dark clouds in an even darker sky. We’re far from the pond now, which means we’re really, really far from the cars. Which means we’re going to get absolutely drenched—if we don’t get struck by lightning or have a tree fall on us first.

Mike lowers his chin and wipes wet droplets from his forehead. “When I was up here last year for that party, I found an old cabin. I think it’s the way we’re heading.”

“You think?”

“It should be close.” The corners of my mouth turn down, and Mike tugs his cap from his back pocket. “Do you want to try for it?” he asks, twisting his hat onto my head.

The question remains in his eyes even as lightning snakes across the sky. Another crack, another flinch, more rain.

“And you’re pretty sure it’s this way?” I ask, tucking my frizzing hair behind my ears.

Mike nods, but his expression doesn’t look confident. “I think so . . . but I could be getting us lost.”

I cling to the log and worry my lip, and Mike watches me cling to the log and worry my lip.

“Let’s go for it,” I finally say, swinging my leg to the other side of the fallen tree. I drop to the solid earth and wait for his feet to hit the ground next to mine.

Mike leads the way, and I follow him deeper into the woods. I follow him through lightning and thunder. I follow him through weeds and mud. I follow him even when the sky breaks open and unleashes hell on us.

I’m running ahead of him a couple minutes later, when the rain is beating us unmercifully to death. Each swollen drop feels like it’s been shot from the sky. I’m pelted again and again as I do my best to race through the trees, slipping on wet grass and narrowly avoiding being eaten alive by bushes with teeth. “We’re going to die because of you!”

Each strike of lightning is a heart attack in my chest as my lungs struggle to pump oxygen into my legs. I’m in the woods, lost, in the middle of a storm that’s howling and raging like a living beast. I’m being drowned by rain.