Go to sleep Nate
I’m up the second I read that last message. Turning the lamp on and squinting from the light while I try to find my socks and a pair of sweats to throw on.
I don’t think it through. Just get dressed and leave the house on autopilot.
Adrenaline rushes through my veins as I drive as fast as the speed limit will allow all the way to my old neighborhood. I’d avoided it for years, but I’ve been back at least three times in the past few weeks.
It’s only when I pull up outside Evan’s house that I realize I don’t have a plan.
I can’t ring the doorbell and wake his mom and Stacie up. I can’t get round the back of the house to throw a stone at his bedroom window without literally breaking in.
And if this neighborhood’s still the way it was when I was a kid, the cops will be called the second I breach the fence.
I stay in the driver’s seat with the headlights off and try messaging him instead.
Evan
I’m outside.
What the fuck?
I tiptoe across the hall, trying not to wake my ma or Stacie. Pull the blinds to the side and spot Nate’s big black SUV parked at the end of the driveway.
My phone buzzes again.
If you don’t come out I’m ringing the doorbell
I panic, but I know he won’t do that. He’s way too much of a brown nose to risk pissing my ma off. Why the fuck did I text him of all people? I had a moment of weakness and he was the first person who came to mind. The only one I could tell that I’d fucked up who might actually care.
I throw my sneakers on and a hoodie and go outside, the cold air biting at my bare legs in my shorts as I make my way down the driveway to Nate’s car.
He gets out, his hair messy under a fucking backward baseball cap. A Princetont-shirt and grey sweats. My mouth gets dry, nervous from how good he looks, and I have to remind myself he’s a fucking frat boy. An Ivy League asshole. I don’t fuck with guys like that.
“Hey,” he whispers when I get close enough to hear him.
I try to be angry. To spit the words, but when I speak, I sound like a little kid.
“What the fuck are you doing here, Nate?”
He shrugs. “You sounded like you needed to talk.”
“It’s the middle of the night.”
“So?”
There’s this big fucking part of me that just wants to go with him, wherever he’s going. Ask him to take me to his nice house, where all his clothes are clean and his Nikes are brand new. Let me live in his crisp, tennis-white world. But the other part of me, the smart bit, knows that’s not possible.
“You’ve done what Ma asked you to do.” I spit. “You can go home now.”
He shakes his head. “I’m not doing that, Evan.Youtexted me.”
Hearing him say my name,fuck.
“Forget it. I didn’t want you to come over here.”
He ignores me. “Is Frankie’s still open?”
That word instantly brings me back, like no time has passed at all. And for a second, everything shucks off my shoulders and I snort. “You’re kidding right? That place’ll survive the apocalypse.”
