There was a smile on my face as I watched Yellow drive away.
It was uncontainable. Unstoppable. It felt destined, like it was the only expression the muscles in my face knew how to form. Like I was supposed to be standing in this empty parking lot, grinning like an idiot as her car disappeared down the road. Like fate had placed me here on purpose, just to feel this. And a part of me found it hard to argue with that thought. Maybe it was fate. Maybe, just maybe, Yellow was not as crazy for believing in fate as I had always thought she was. And don’t get me wrong. I never thought she was crazy in a bad way. I thought she was crazy in the best way.
A good crazy. The brightest crazy. The kind of crazy that makes you want to be just as crazy too. I shook my head, the smile still warming my cheeks, still sitting there like it belonged. The lightness in my chest felt unfamiliar, almost foreign, and yet I didn’t want it to go anywhere. That was why I couldn’t just leave Yellow alone. That was why she kept circling my thoughts, why I couldn’t stop wondering about her. It was the same reason her words replayed in my head over and over again, the same reason I could picture her eyes lighting up at exactly the right moments.
She was like a drug. And for a brief, dangerous second, I understood the addicts who came to me with their hands already outstretched, eyes hopeful, desperate, searching. They wanted happiness. Don’t we all? And Yellow… Yellow was happiness. It escaped from her in a way I couldn’t explain. Like she was a cloud, but instead of rain she scattered sunlight. And instead of being soaked by it, I felt warmed. My mind was filled with the way she looked at me. The way she leaned into me. The way her body seemed to move toward mine without hesitation, without fear. She wanted to kiss me, and that realization sent anothersurge of electricity through me, sharp and uncontrollable. She wanted to touch me. She wanted to be close to me. And that part didn’t quite make sense.
She was beautiful. She was interesting. She was so fucking different it almost hurt. But none of that explained why she would want to be around someone like me. Why she would look at me the way she did, like she saw something worth staying for. I took a breath, trying to ground myself, trying to calm the euphoria rushing through my veins. I had always teased Zane for the way he was so hopelessly devoted to Seren. Not in a cruel way. I loved that about him. I loved how deeply he loved her, how fiercely he was committed to her, because she deserved every ounce of it.
But I had never understood it. I had never felt that kind of pull toward someone. Never experienced the need to be near a person so badly it felt physical. I had always believed I never would. I was not that guy. And yet, here I was. Standing alone in an empty asphalt parking lot, smiling to myself like an absolute idiot over a girl I hadn’t even kissed yet. No. A girl I could have kissed. A girl I should have kissed. But I didn't. Because I wanted to wait. I wanted to give Yellow the things Zane gives Seren. I wanted to give her fireworks and waterfalls. I wanted to give her moments that lingered, moments that mattered, moments that stayed with her long after they ended. Because quite simply, that girl deserved fireworks and waterfalls.
I tried to shake the warmth from my body, not because I didn’t like it, but because it was becoming too much. Too intense. Like if I let it keep building, it might spill over into something reckless. I started walking toward my car instead, my steps light, my body feeling almost weightless, like I was made of air. I pulled my phone from my pocket, already wondering if it wastoo soon to text her. I rolled my eyes at myself. It was absolutely too soon. The only thing texting her now would accomplish was letting Yellow see just how completely fucking smitten I already was.
But my smile faded the second I looked at the screen. I swore under my breath when I saw his name, the missed calls stacked beneath it, the unread messages glaring back at me. The electricity inside me dimmed, replaced by something heavier. Something sour. Regret.
I had forgotten about Roger. I had forgotten what I was supposed to do tonight. I had forgotten the dark clouds that actually made up my life, because for the time I had spent inside that bakery with Yellow, the sun had broken straight through them. That’s the thing about storm clouds, isn’t it? The sun breaks through, the blue sky shows itself again, and for a moment you believe the storm is over. But the clouds keep rolling. Eventually, they always find their way back over you.
“Fuck,” I muttered, climbing into my car and starting the engine. I didn’t bother fastening my seat belt as I pulled onto the empty roads.
My mind was already racing ahead of me, running through what I would say, how I would say it, and which version of Roger I was about to face tonight. I knew this wasn’t going to be easy. The only question was just how hard Roger was going to make it. The buildings blurred as I drove faster than I should have, the city stretching into long streaks of gray and yellow light. I turned my head sharply, scanning the maze of streets ahead, before blowing straight through a red light without slowing. Being late would only make this worse. I could feel it already, the tension crawling back into my body like something that had been waiting patiently for its turn. My jaw clenched. My shouldershardened. My hands tightened around the steering wheel until my knuckles went white. The secrets I carried settled back into place, heavy and familiar.
I barely slowed as I turned into the parking garage I knew far too well. The concrete swallowed the sound of my engine, and memories rushed in without permission. The first time I’d met Roger here played in my mind like an old film I couldn’t shut off. I was young. Barely fifteen. Back then, he’d seemed untouchable. Godlike, even. The cars he drove. The confidence he wore like armor. The way people looked at him. I hadn’t been desperate for money then. Not really. I’d been desperate for respect.
His car was parked on the third floor, exactly where I expected it to be. I couldn’t see him through the black tint of the windows, but I could see the smoke curling out through the narrow crack of the driver’s side glass. Thin, lazy lines twisting into the air like a warning.
I pulled up beside him, the squeal of my brakes echoing sharply as I stopped. We stepped out of our cars at the same time. My nerves surged, sharp and immediate, but I forced them down. Forced them to dull instead of cut. Roger would smell hesitation the second it showed itself, and with what I needed from him tonight, I couldn’t afford to flinch. Not anymore. I couldn’t do this anymore. Yellow’s face flashed through my mind, uninvited but welcome. She wasn’t the reason this had to end. Not really. This should have stopped long before I met her. But she was the brightest reason.
“So,” Roger said as I approached him, his voice meeting my ears before I was close enough to read his expression. “You call me and ask to meet, and you show up late.”
I let my eyes move over his face, searching for something beneath the smooth surface, but there was nothing there. Hewore the same stone-cold composure he always did. His hair, once darker, had gone noticeably gray at the temples. His beard was trimmed close to his skin. He looked older than the last time I’d seen him. More worn. I didn’t need to guess why.
“I had something to do,” I muttered, rolling my shoulders back and stretching my spine tall. I hardened my gaze, the way I knew I had to.
Roger tilted his head slightly, his mouth pulling into a faint grin. “Something important enough to pull me away from Veronica?” He had no idea what was coming.
“Listen, Roger,” I said, my voice sharper than I felt. The words had been circling my mind all night, refusing to line up. “It’s time.” He raised a brow, waiting. “I want out,” I continued, forcing the sentence through. “I’m done selling for you. Last weekend was my last run.”
For a fraction of a second, something flickered across his face. Surprise, maybe. But it disappeared just as quickly as it came. The smirk stayed. Roger shook his head, a low chuckle leaving his mouth like I’d just told him a joke.
“Is the heat getting to you, boy?” He rubbed at his chin, eyes scanning me slowly, assessing. “You’re not done. I still need you.”
“No,” I said, dismissing him flatly. “I’m done. This isn’t about the heat. This part of my life is over.”
“Over?” He laughed again, but the edge had shifted. The smirk thinned. “That’s not how this works, Austin. I told you that when you wanted in. I know things are ugly right now. I know the cops are crawling all over us because of that kid.” My jaw clenched. “I’ll never understand these idiots,” Roger went on,unfazed. “Don’t swallow what you can’t handle. One dead kid and suddenly the sky’s falling.”
My stomach twisted, bile rising sharp and immediate. “It’s not about that,” I snapped, my voice grinding against my teeth.
He knew better. He knew exactly what he was poking at. He knew how hard it was for me. He knew how impossible it was to forget. You never understand what it does to you until you’ve seen a body. A real one. Not in pictures. Not in stories. A kid your age. A kid you knew. Lifeless on the ground like he’d been dropped there and forgotten. That image never leaves you. And Roger knew it. And you never understand the weight of knowing you might have caused it until it’s too late, until the nightmare has already wrapped itself around you and refused to let go. I’d been living inside that nightmare for the last year. I didn’t wake up from it. It didn’t fade with daylight or soften with time. It was mine now. And I knew I would never wake up from it.
“You think you can walk away from that?” Roger asked, tilting his head. “Don’t forget, it was you who sold it to him.”
“It wasn’t my fault,” I said, even though I knew the words were useless. “It wasn’t what I gave him that killed him.”
Roger’s mouth twitched. “Ah, but who knows?” he said lightly. “You’ll never really know.” He was right. That was the worst part. The not knowing. The endless loop of what-ifs that never stopped playing.
“I’m done,” I said again, firmer this time. “I’m serious.” I reached into my pocket and pulled out the rolled bills, thick with hundreds. I held them out between us, my arm stiff, my hand steady only because it had learned how to be. “This is from the last load,” I said. “It’s over.”
Roger studied me, his gaze never once dropping to the money. He looked at my face instead, like he was deciding how much I was worth now. “How about you keep that,” he said finally, “and you stay in.”
