Andy had the day off from the hardware store, and for once, he didn’t plan to spend it sleeping in. After half an hour of pacing his room and rewriting the same text three times, he’d finally just called Kelle—actually called her—and asked if she wanted to grab lunch and then hit Cyberline. After she said yes and they agreed where to meet, he ended the call, stared at his phone in disbelief for a full second, then quietly jumped in the air and pumped his fist like an idiot.
Now they were walking down the street from the bus stop they’d met at, the midday sun glinting off shop windows and the smell of fries drifting from the burger joint up ahead.
“I can’t believe you’re willingly giving up a day off at the beach when it’s right outside your door,” she teased, bumping his arm.
Andy shrugged, trying to sound casual even though his pulse said otherwise. “Figured I’d make an exception. Besides, Cyberline’s got that new VR setup—the one with the full rig.”
She grinned. “Right. You just wanted to show off your nerd cred.”
“Guilty,” he admitted, but when she laughed, the sound was worth every ounce of courage it had taken to make that call.
It wasn’t long before they sat at a table outside the restaurant, with a spread of burgers, fries, and sodas between them. Andy swore he’d never tasted fries that good—or maybe that was just because Kelle was sitting across from him, her laugh cutting through the noise of traffic and the murmur of conversation from other tables.
Between bites, he cleared his throat. “Hey, uh... do you ever go to the beach much?”
She looked up, surprised. “Sometimes. Usually with my cousins or a few friends. Why?”
He shrugged, trying to sound offhand even as his palms started to sweat. “I was thinking, maybe... sometime this week, we could go? You know—hang out, toss a football or something. We can invite a few friends too.” He tacked on that last part. As much as he wanted it to be just the two of them, he was still nervous that she wanted to be friends only, instead of his girlfriend.
A slow and easy smile spread across her face. “Yeah, that sounds fun.”
“Cool. Yeah. Cool,” he said too quickly, chasing it with a sip of soda to cover the heat climbing up his neck.
She went back to her fries, but Andy’s brain immediately betrayed him—painting a vivid picture of Kelle in a white bikini, sunlight glinting off her tanned skin, and her laughter echoing over the waves.
Nope. Absolutely not. Abort mission. Abort, damn it!
He started mentally running through code strings, anything to short-circuit his teenage hormones.
If x equals awkward, then stop thinking about bikinis. End process.
By the time she asked if he wanted to split an ice cream sundae, he’d mostly managed to get his body under control. Mostly.
After dessert, they headed down the block toward Cyberline Computers. The store sat between a pawn shop and a cell phone repair place, its front window dominated by a Ghost Thread: Echo poster—the brooding warrior mid-swing against a wall of fire and shadow. Andy had been eyeing that poster for weeks, every time he passed the shop or went in.
He was thinking about the unboxing, the smooth shrink wrap under his fingers, when movement drew his attention.
Three guys lounged against the brick wall by the pawn shop just before Cyberline. They weren’t talking, just watching, like they’d been waiting. Black hoodies, despite the warm June afternoon. Ink crawling up their necks. Andy recognized the tallest right away. Diego.
His stomach dipped. Damn it.
“Keep walking,” Andy muttered under his breath, but his voice cracked.
Kelle glanced sideways at him, brows pinching. Before she could say anything, Diego pushed off the wall as they approached.
“Well, well.” His smile cut sharply across his lean face, all angles and shadows. “If it isn’t Bing.”
Andy froze. The nickname hit him like a punch to the gut. He hated the way it rolled off Diego’s tongue—mocking, claiming. When Jimmy had used it at the hardware store, it was like a joke between coworkers or friends. From the gang leader, it made Andy’s skin crawl.
He didn’t bother pretending enthusiasm. “What do you want?” he asked, his voice flat.
Diego’s grin widened. “Relax, man. Just saying hi. No need to get all jumpy.”
Andy said nothing, keeping his stance casual even as his pulse kicked. He wanted nothing to do with Diego or his crew—not after the last time, when their idea of “hanging out” had ended with flashing lights, shouting, and his wrists in handcuffs.
Diego’s crew slid away from the wall to block the sidewalk. On Diego’s right was Jax—about fifty pounds heavier than Andy, and a pale scar slicing through his eyebrow. His smile was slow and deliberate, as if he were daring Andy to flinch. Toad was the other creep, his broad shoulders straining against his hoodie, and his fingers flexing as if he couldn’t stay still. His eyes darted constantly—he was probably high as a kite.
The three of them fanned out, claiming the stretch of sidewalk as theirs.
