“Miss Mabee!” The familiar D’Angelo lilt actually makes me smile.

  “My second favorite D’Angelo twin,” I tease back, turning to find my unlikely friend sitting on the tailgate of someone’s truck, covering his heart with both palms, feigning his untimely death by insult.

  I nod to the rest of my friends to head to the beer truck without me and pull myself up to sit next to Tory. His hair is wet, combed straight back minus the stray section that squiggles over his left eye. He smells like men’s body wash, and he’s wearing his away jersey, his home one muddied from tonight’s game.

  “So tell me, you come to the party looking for me?” He winks over his crooked smile. I bat at him playfully.

  “You know it,” I say. His laugh in response is genuine.

  “Abby dragged me here,” I clear up, nodding toward my friend who has already found a spot near this mysterious Cannon guy.

  “That’s two parties, back-to-back weekends! Dare I say it, you’re well on your way to a streak,” Tory jokes.

  I glance to my side with a tight-lipped smile, feeling a little prudish because he’s right, I am a bit of a hermit. For good reason, though.

  “I’m kidding with you. You know that, right?” His eyes soften and he dips his head, meeting my stare.

  I nod. “I do.”

  Tory tilts his head back and takes a long swig from his bottle of beer. I take this moment to survey the rest of the crowd. I haven’t seen Lucas’s truck yet, or Ava, and I hate that I’m looking for them. Even more, though, I hate that Tory catches me in the act.

  “He’s always late to shit. Some things never change,” he says, nudging my arm with his elbow as he scoots a little closer. I chuckle at his commentary, remembering all the things Lucas was late for with me.

  “You know that jerk was late to our summer swim relay when we were eleven?” I say. “He showed up just in time to swim anchor.” Tory laughs hard enough that he spits out some of his beer.

  “Serious?” he questions.

  I nod and hold up the scouts honor sign.

  “He still a jerk?” he asks, laughing lightly through the words. His expression falls into a less spirited one though the longer it takes me to answer. I never do.

  Jerk or not, he isn’t late this time. He’s right on time, pulling his truck up right next to the one Tory and I are sitting in. At least seven people are in the back, and four more lined up next to him in the cab. The scent of alcohol is strong, and bottles clank as people climb out of the truck. I kick my feet out and hop to the ground, dusting off the back of my jeans and twisting in place to find my friends, any of them. My attention comes screaming back to Tory after a second, when his hand grabs my fingers. At first, my eyes sear the place where he’s holding my hand hostage, then my gaze flits up to Tory’s cocky smirk.

  “Don’t let him run you off,” he says, rushing the words out before Lucas rounds the back of his truck and stops a few feet away from us with a sour look on his face. The trapped feeling makes it hard to breathe.

  “Hey, man. Can you help me with this keg?” Lucas’s eyes bounce from where Tory’s hand is on mine to Tory’s eyes, and that little victory from seeing it bother him helps me slow my pulse and stay where I am a moment or two longer.

  “Yeah, bro. Where we takin’ it?” Tory runs his thumb over the top of my knuckles, and I react on auto, pulling my hand away and stuffing both of them in the front pocket of my hoodie. I don’t leave yet, though. I’m not sure whether what Tory did there was for me, or for Lucas, but it was a weird line nonetheless.

  “Uh, Jake’s truck, I guess. Isn’t that where the rest of the shit is?” Lucas shifts on his feet, glancing at me a few times, but never stopping to actually look at me. He’s agitated and keeps pulling his black Public hat from his head to smooth out his long hair underneath before putting it back on backward.

  Tory hops down from the truck, his feet crunching into the earth less than a foot from me. He leans in, the sweet scent from a wax pen on his breath. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

  I’m not sure why I obey his request. I stay put, though, while he climbs into the back of Lucas’s truck and the two of them haul the keg to the tailgate, then call Hayden over to help lift it out. I stick by the back of Tory’s truck for several minutes while he lingers by the drinks, laughing and joking with his friends. Maybe he forgot about me. But before I give in to the urge to search out my friends, he jogs over from across the large open area we’re all parked around.

  He hands me a Coke, not fully letting go when I grip it, instead tapping the top a few times. “I ran with it. Don’t want it to explode on you,” he explains. I wonder if my face is as quizzical as it feels.

  “You’re being nice to me.” I didn’t mean that to come out with sound.

  Tory stops tapping my drink as he shakes with a hard laugh and looks down at the ground, nodding and biting at his bottom lip that eventually slips into an amused smile. I pop the tab and take a long drink, thirstier than I realize.

  “You were nice to me first, you know,” he says, holding his beer up to toast against my can. I smile all crooked and tap my Coke into his Bud.

  “Technically . . .” I nod my head side-to-side and look up to the right.

  “Fine, I gave you a chair. Oh, look what a gentleman I am,” he mocks.

  We both ease back into leaning against the tailgate and laugh together, maybe admitting we had each other a little wrong.

  “So, tell me, Mabee. I thought your parents were super strict. How did you get them to let you drive the mom van out here for such a sordid affair?” He eyes me over his bottle as he tilts it back for another long drink. He’ll be drunk within the hour at this pace.

  “Well,” I begin, pausing as I shift my position, letting my free arm hug my waist. I don’t talk about my family, but maybe that’s another thing I should change. I lean my head to the side and let out a short nervous laugh. He reaches forward, lightly touching my arm.

  “Go on,” he urges.

  I look up at him, a part of me maybe making sure he’s earnestly interested. His eyes don’t move from mine, so I take a deep breath. “It’s just parent, really. They split up, freshman year.”

  He nods, and it’s a little bit like he’s familiar with this part, but maybe I’m just reading into that.

  “And my mom, she would prefer me to be a little, no . . . a lot more social than I am.” He snickers at that, taking yet one more drink. I let my arm fall free of my stomach and hold my Coke in both palms, swishing it a little to hear the fizz.

  “She workin’ tonight?” He cocks a brow, and I respond with a sideways look. If he’s looking to take me home—alone—that’s a hard no.

  “Yes,” I say tentatively. “But she knows I’m here. We switched cars so I could drive.”

  He licks his lips, the slightest appearance of his tongue, and my trust fortress rearms itself. He backs off though, shifting his posture and putting a little more distance between us. He holds his now-empty bottle up for me to salute again. He’s getting buzzed, but I indulge him.

  “Cheers to the designated drivers!” he says.

  “Cheers!” a few people nearby echo, because he’s getting kind of loud.

  “You need another?” He taps on the top of my can. It’s still half full.

  “I’m good.” I nod. He tips his head back and takes the last remaining droplets of his beer, then tosses the bottle into a pile forming at the center of this gathering.

  “Well, I’m empty. I’ll be back in a bit!” His stride has gotten looser, but for whatever reason, he’s still a little engaged in talking to me. It’s better than me wandering around lost. My girlfriends have all found circles to join, all of them drinking at about the same pace as Tory. I’m going to keep the windows down on the way home in case anybody vomits.

  A heavy clunk to my right jerks my attention around. Lucas is pushing the tailgate of his truck up, missing the catch the first few times and shoving it three more times before it holds. He claps his hands together to remove the dirt—his truck’s been through some mud, it seems—but remains behind his vehicle for a few long seconds, his eyes focused on the ground. His jaw works back and forth in thought before his gaze finally lifts to meet mine. It doesn’t stick. He and I, we can’t seem to look at each other for long.

  “Be smart with that,” he says, signaling with a short wave to where Tory is talking with my friends. I stare at the scene for a beat to decipher his message. I glance back his way to find the top of his hat, the brim turned forward again so he can hide. Coward.

  “You jealous or something?”

  I can’t believe that was out loud.

  His shoulders quake with a quiet laugh and he shakes his head, eyes looking back at the ground. He lifts his head to meet my stare and to raise the right side of his mouth in a mocking laugh.

  “Sure, June.” His gaze lingers a little longer this time, a flatness to his eyes that insults me without words. That look is meant to call me stupid. But I know that look wouldn’t be necessary if what I said didn’t hurt him a little.

  I had him. Once. In my own way. And that’s why Ava hates me.

  Lucas walks in the opposite direction from me, heading into a thick outcropping of trees that sinks down a ravine. It’s where Ava is, and a few of the others I saw smoking joints by the beer. Maybe he’ll get high and find some sort of peace. None of that will do anything to solve how he’s going to feel when his parents’ marriage falls apart. Of course, there’s always the chance that his dad gets away with it forever.

  Whatever.

  I sit on the back of Tory’s truck, waiting for him to come back, uneasy again when half an hour passes. I busy myself playing dumb games on my phone, eventually texting Abby to come rescue me. She doesn’t show up for ten more minutes, and when she does, the other girls are with her. We all crawl into the bed of the truck and pull our knees up to gossip and talk shit about other people who are probably having the same conversations about us. For the first time since freshman year, I feel I belong. An hour of easy jokes passes, girl time and camaraderie. Tory and his brother eventually join us and we censor our jokes from including them, but the easiness continues.

  Tory doesn’t start next to me, but eventually he winds up there, sitting on the side of the truck bed, his leg against my shoulder, keeping me close. A few times, he even reaches down and squeezes my shoulders gently while telling a story. I look up at him, both nervous but kind of glad to be the object of anyone’s anything. I should have known none of that would last.

  “Careful there, Tory. Little virgin girl might just be a cock tease,” Ava says, her voice carrying up and over our conversation from the end of the tailgate. It takes me a second to understand what’s happening, how those words are meant to hurt me, but when I do, I scramble to my feet and walk to the edge of the truck. I might not have curves, but I do have muscle. And I have rage. I could pound Ava Pryor into the dirt if I wanted to.

  “At least I’m not the one who throws her panties around people’s cars,” I say, drawing exaggerated ooo’s from my friends and a few who pretend they know what I’m talking about.

  Ava lets out a short laugh and puts her hand on her hip, her makeup smudged from being drunk and her hair tangled from whatever it is she probably just did with Lucas. I hop down and land a few feet in front of her, my act tough enough to make her flinch back a step or two. Her reaction emboldens me. I step closer, but this time she holds her ground. Pretty soon, we’re close enough to kiss.

  “Mommy out working the streets tonight? That why they let you come out to play?” she says, her voice low but the words loud enough that the people around us hear.

  My mouth waters with instant rage, and without thinking it through, I step back and fling my right open palm against her face hard enough that her body staggers a few steps to my left. Her squeal gets even more attention, and my hand throbs from the contact. That fucking hurt! She’s totally going to have a black eye.

  I’m glowing off this power trip, energized by the shouts from my friends behind me. Ava finds her balance and spits at the ground, then shifts her weight to come back at me. I lift my right arm again, figuring I might as well keep all the hurt in one place. Before I can take a good swing though, this time with a fist, a strong hand wraps around my wrist and pulls it to the side before another hand holds at the center of Ava’s chest.

  “You!” Lucas is staring Ava down, a warning in his wide eyes. She argues a few times but he talks over her, pointing to his truck. “Get your ass in there. That’s enough!”

  I’ve started to laugh, but Lucas’s attention focuses on me next. His eyes lock on mine, a million words passing behind them all at once. Disappointment, regret . . . apology maybe?

  “Just . . . fucking stop, June,” he says, exasperation in his voice. My clenched muscles weaken, and my arm grows limp and falls from his hold. My eyes peer over his shoulder to Ava, slowly walking backward. Why her?

  “Your mom’s a fucking whore, you know!” she shouts, her words stunning me where I stand. Lucas took away my weapons. He left me defenseless.

  “I said get your ass in my truck!” He points at her more forcefully, a redness coloring his neck, the lines showing how tense he is, how angry.

  His eyes come back to me and the expression isn’t soft. There is no pity in his gaze. He’s holding back. There are things he wants to say, and I wish he just would. What else could be said that would hurt me now? He doesn’t speak though, instead falling back a step or two as he shakes his head, a silent way to say “don’t.”

  I shake my head in response, a shudder kicking my chest with a short cry that I wipe away in an instant with my forearm.

  “Is she your girlfriend? That?” I let out a judgmental laugh and point at the cruel person crawling into his passenger side. I bite my lip through more sad laughter, then look into his eyes, the blue now roiling with fire. “Or is she just some girl you fuck? No matter what, you know she’s part of your story now. That . . . that is what you are—who you are.”

  Everything around us has become quiet. Lucas doesn’t flinch. The burn settles into my cheeks the longer he stares at me. I’m being foolish.

  Foolish, foolish girl with some unrequited crush.

  Goddamn, what have I done?

  Lucas spits at the ground in front of him and looks to Tory who holds up two open palms, claiming his innocence. He is innocent. This scene, it’s all me.

  I remain still until Lucas walks completely away, rounding his truck and getting inside. His engine roars, but I don’t move until Abby’s hand gently runs down my shoulder and arm. She squeezes me to her side and I tremble a little, still coming down from the high of being so damn mad and letting it out.

  “Can we be done now?” I ask, wondering how in the hell I’m going to calm down enough to drive.

  “Yeah, we can be done,” she says, moving her hand down my arm even more until her hand grasps a strong hold of mine. “I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but you did something good right there.”

  “It feels the exact opposite of good,” I admit, nervous pulse-laden words falling from my numb lips.

  “I know. Doesn’t mean it’s not, though,” she says, guiding me to our van. I get in and wait while the others take their spot. They don’t talk until I’m ready, and they never make me say anything more. They repeat the scenario over and over, praising me for being strong. All I can see, though, are those damn blue, disappointed eyes that went home with someone else.

  For a while, I haven’t come out here at night. Living next door to Lucas means our old shared hiding places are off limits. But eventually, I realize he doesn’t care about the abandoned treehouse falling apart near the back of my yard, or the rusted-out shell of the Forty-eight Buick that my dad left behind for my mom to deal with when he decided he didn’t love her anymore. I don’t come out here often because I can still see Lucas’s window, the view into his room all too clear when his light is on. He paces a lot when he’s on the phone. He also likes to leave the lights on when he brings girls upstairs late at night. I’ve seen too much from this front seat of the tireless car that will never run. But the burn on my cheeks from the very public words said by his on-again, off-again girlfriend in front of virtually everyone in our senior class is too hot for me to care about any of that. I need a place to hide where even Abby can’t find me for a while—a place to cry it out.

  Goddamn him for deciding now, of all the nows, is the one he chooses to finally show up again in the dark corner where our yards meet. It’s well after midnight, and I’d planned on staying here until sunrise, away from my phone that I’m sure Abby is blowing up, and away from my house where maybe my new friends might come knocking, worried. At least my mom isn’t home; I’m not sure I could hide my state from her.

  I close my eyes and sniffle hard while he’s still a good four or five strides away from the passenger door. It creaks open, popping when the hinge catches, and I jerk my head to the right and open my eyes. He slides in next to me and yanks the door closed behind him. It’s filthy in here, and his weight on the ripped fabric sends a poof of dust into the closed cabin.

  “You didn’t have to come check on me. I’ll survive.” I cough through my last few words and inwardly chide myself for liking that he showed up. He quickly dashes the fantasy that he came here because he cared.

  He starts with a heavy sigh, his hands cupping his jean-covered knees and irritably scratching at them.

  “I’m not here for you, June. I’m here to tell you—no, to beg you—to please keep your nosey ass out of my life.”

  My mouth falls open, and my chest is hammered with a mix of hurt and anger. Before I can react with words, Lucas shifts in his seat, bringing his right knee up to lean to the side and palm the rotted out dashboard. His large hand pats down, leaving a dustless print in its wake. I suddenly feel small.

  His head shakes, and his face wears a soured expression.

  “You judge—” he begins.

  “No, I don’t.” I interrupt in protest, but his hand pats down again with his forced laugh.