Chapter 3

3

ZACH

"What was that all about?" I asked as Jason approached with a scowl on his face.

"Sammy's taking Will home."

"And that pisses you off?"

He blew out a breath, took off his hat, ran his hand through his short crop of hair, then put the hat back on, his movements jerky and agitated. "I just don't know if I did the right thing giving up Will's keys like that. And now I don't have a ride."

"I can give you a ride."

"Yeah?" His blue eyes lifted to mine. There was a quiet intensity about him that I didn't see in most guys our age. I found it…intriguing. "That'd be great. Thanks."

He shifted from one foot to the other, almost like he couldn't decide what to do with himself. "Do you want me to take you now?"

"Nah, I don't want to keep you from the party."

"It's cool. I don't mind. I barely know most of these people." I looked around, and while I recognized many faces, I hadn't developed a close relationship with anyone in particular. I'd gotten along with my classmates and the guys on the soccer team, but it had all been superficial. Flash a smile, make a joke, and get along with everyone. It was the formula for convincing people you were okay. That you weren't the sad kid without a mom. The player with an overbearing soccer dad. The lonely kid without any true friends.

Jason's forehead creased in a frown, so I doubled down on my smile. "Come on. My car's up the hill." I nodded in the direction of the parking lot and the road beyond.

Bodies jostled into us as we maneuvered through the crowd and across the sand. I nodded and smiled at people as I passed, my popular pretty-boy facade locked in place like a coat of armor. Eventually, the mob of people thinned out and the sounds of laughter and music trailed off as we trudged up the path to the lot. Up here, away from the press of bodies, the air was the tiniest bit cooler. "My car's down the road a little way," I said, leading Jason through the lot and toward the road beyond.

We walked side-by-side, the June air thick with humidity and heavy with the weight of Jason's worry. I searched for some other topic of conversation to distract him.

"What are your plans for the fall?"

"I'm taking an EMT course at the community college in Brinkley."

"That's cool. What made you want to do that?" I gestured for him to go ahead of me as we filed onto the road. There wasn't a sidewalk out here away from town, so we hugged the shoulder as we walked past the other cars parked half in the street, half on the grassy shoulder. It amazed me that everyone in Astaire turned a blind eye to the clear evidence there was a party full of underage drinkers happening at the lake. I supposed there were some perks to living in a small town.

"I don't know, really. My grades in school were pretty decent, but I just can't imagine paying for an education I wasn't even sure I wanted. I liked the idea of helping people. And not being tied to a desk. Plus, the program's only like four months." He stopped in front of me, causing me to pull up short before I ran into him. "I just realized I don't know what car I'm looking for," he said, glancing over his shoulder.

I grinned. "It's the blue Lexus two cars up." He blinked at me owlishly but didn't say anything. Just turned and continued on until he arrived at the electric-blue car.

We both climbed in, and I bit back a laugh as the big guy squeezed himself into the passenger seat, immediately trying to locate the button that would slide the seat back. "Sorry. The only one who rides with me regularly is my sister, and she doesn't require nearly as much legroom."

"I'm used to it. It's one of the reasons I drive a truck."

I punched the button to start the engine. "You definitely strike me as a truck kind of guy. Where are we headed?"

"I live over on Woodson. You know where that is? Just past the high school."

"Yeah, I think so."

I pulled the car onto the road, heading in the direction he indicated. We rode in silence for a bit, but it wasn't uncomfortable. Though I didn't know him well, Jason had never struck me as the type of guy who needed to fill a space with idle chatter. He did appear restless, though, shifting in his seat several times and fiddling with the hem of his shorts.

"You okay?" I asked, giving him my attention while I was stopped at one of the three traffic lights in town.

"Sorry. I'm just worried about Will. I shouldn't have given up his keys so easily."

I couldn't figure out if he was just a worrier or if Will meant more to him than it appeared on the surface. I'd never seen Jason date anyone, though I supposed it was possible he had a thing for Will.

"Is Sammy really such a bad guy? I had a couple of classes with him this year. He mostly kept to himself, but I didn't catch a vibe or anything."

"He's… I honestly don't know him very well. We've both lived here our whole lives, but he's just, like, really hard to know." He nodded toward the light, which had turned green while we were talking.

I started to ease through the intersection, but after a quick check of my mirrors to see if traffic was clear, I turned right instead, pointing us in a new direction. "Where are you going?"

I flicked a quick glance his way, catching the confused look on his face. He didn't look pissed, though, so that was a good sign. Returning my eyes to the road, I said, "I can turn back if you want, but I thought maybe you could use a distraction. If I take you home now, you'll just stew all night."

He blew out a breath, but there was a touch of humor in his tone when he responded. "You're probably right. Did you have someplace in mind?"

"Not really. I just thought I'd drive for a bit without any particular destination in mind."

"My grandparents have some land outside of town. There's a spot on the back edge of the property that overlooks the creek. We can head out there if you want…"

"Sure. Just tell me which way to go."

Ten minutes later, we pulled onto a gravel road that I would have missed if Jason hadn't pointed it out. Trees crowded in on both sides of the drive, making it feel like I was in a scene from Jurassic Park . It was only about a quarter-mile before the trees opened into a small clearing where I parked my car and we got out. Stars blanketed the night sky like someone had scattered salt over a black tablecloth. Out here, away from Astaire, the vastness of the space made me feel infinitely smaller. Insignificant.

Alone.

So much so that I almost forgot Jason was with me.

"Grandpa used to bring me out here when I was a kid." His voice was soft and low, gentle as the breeze. "He had this old rusted-out Ford pickup that he kept just for driving around the farm. The seats were cracked and lumpy, and I used to giggle at the way they bounced up and down when he drove over ruts in the dirt."

The look he gave me was sheepish, like he was embarrassed about telling his story, but I smiled, hoping he'd continue. I liked the gentle sound of his voice, the smooth way it floated across my skin.

That was a weird fucking thought .

"Sometimes he'd bring my sister with us, but most of the time, it was just us two. He called it ‘guy time.'" His chuckle was soft, almost like he'd forgotten I was there. "I wasn't allowed pop until I was in middle school, but he'd pack a couple of cans of Coke in a cooler, winking at me as he popped the top, telling me it was just between us men."

There was a fallen tree near the edge of the overlook. We made our way over and sat on it, looking out over the creek and fields beyond. I thought about my grandparents, what little I could remember of them. My dad had been estranged from his parents, so they'd only visited a handful of times, flying in from Arizona for quick visits that always left us feeling relieved once they were gone. I was pretty sure I'd been in middle school the last time I'd seen them. They hadn't even bothered to come out for Mom's funeral.

By contrast, my mom's parents had been the quintessential grandparents, warm, loving, and kind. Grandma had spoiled us with cookies and sweets, while Grandpa had loved a pun and always given us a two-dollar bill on our birthdays. We still saw them occasionally when they came into town to visit my Aunt Amy and her family, but since Mom had passed, their relationship with my father had become strained. We still spoke over the phone and by email, but I missed seeing them in person.

"None of my grandparents live here. One set is in Arizona and the other in Florida." I didn't elaborate, not wanting to open myself up to this guy I barely knew. I didn't open myself up to anyone, really.

"Do you see them?"

"Sometimes."

I felt the weight of the questions he hadn't asked. He wanted to know more, but he was too polite to push. And I was too private to say more.

So neither one of us said anything, letting the silence hang between us.

It was odd, that silence. How comfortable it was, despite my refusal to part with the personal information I knew Jason was curious about. I hadn't spent a lot of time in the quiet, typically seeking out other people and their noise. And on the rare occasion I did find myself alone, my AirPods and playlist were never far away. I didn't like the silence. I didn't like being alone with my thoughts. My memories. My grief. It was why I'd gone to the bonfire tonight, despite my exhaustion from camp and travel.

On cue, I yawned, long and hard, my eyes watering.

Jason pulled out his phone and looked at the time. "Do you want to go? You're probably exhausted."

"Nah, I'm good," I said, waving him off. "It's been a long day, but I don't know if I want to go home yet."

His eyebrows pinched in concern. He did that a lot, I noticed. He was a worrier. "Why?"

"Why don't I want to go home?" He nodded, and I shrugged. "Just family stuff. It's not a big deal."

With a brief nod, he turned to look out over the fields, letting the quiet fall around us once again. This time the silence felt itchy, like a tag in the back of a shirt poking at the skin of my neck. I searched for something to say, something to drown out the buzzing beneath my skin, an inane topic we could discuss to deflect from the personal.

But what came out of my mouth was, "My father's kind of a dick. Like, I know he loves me and my sister, but there's always this insane amount of pressure to be the best at everything we do. For me, it's soccer. For Drea, it's dance. And grades for both of us. Our rooms have to be kept immaculate, our beds made every day. Clothes unwrinkled and not a hair out of place. There's no room for error, for being human."

I dragged my hand through my hair, annoyed that I'd opened my big mouth but unable to stop the stream of words. Jason watched me carefully, his eyes full of concern, but he didn't interrupt.

"I got a full-ride scholarship to UCLA, but that wasn't good enough. He wanted me to go to Clemson because they're ranked higher in the preseason polls. Astaire played the State Championship this year for the first time in school history, and Dad was pissed because I didn't score the game-winning goal. It's never enough for him. So when he picked me up from the airport today and asked how camp went, I told him it was fine."

I stood, restless and unable to sit still as the words bubbled out of me. "I knew that word— fine —would piss him off, but I said it anyway because it wouldn't really matter what I said. Everything pisses him off. He gave me shit about how I should be more grateful for the opportunity, so I faked sleep the rest of the way home."

"Do you want to play soccer?"

I stopped pacing, hands on my hips as I looked out over the creek and fields beyond. Once upon a time, the answer would have been unequivocally yes . But now? Now, the joy and freedom of running down the field, dribbling the ball, moving in tandem with my teammates, the challenge of reading and anticipating my opponent's move, and the exhilaration of scoring that perfect goal was buried under a layer of expectation. It was like a poison had infiltrated everything I'd once loved. Infused it with something insidious until I no longer recognized the sport I'd given my heart to.

But this week, I'd found a sliver of that passion again. Without my father breathing down my neck, without his constant scrutiny, I'd felt a glimmer of the joy I'd once known. On the second day, I'd even had my phone out of my pocket, ready to call Mom and tell her all about it, as if I was a young boy recounting my first day of school. Then, I'd remembered there was no Mom to call. It had taken all my self-control not to throw my phone across my dorm room as I blinked back the tears.

So when my father had asked me how it went, I'd responded with "fine" because I wasn't willing to give him anything more. I didn't want him to twist it into something ugly when I'd only just gotten started.

I dropped my chin to my chest, letting out a breath. "It's complicated," I said, copping out on my answer to Jason's question. The flood of words that had burst out of me moments ago suddenly dried up, leaving me with nothing more to say.

"I shouldn't have dumped all of that on you. I don't usually…" I let out a frustrated breath, chancing a look at him. I didn't know what I'd expected to see, maybe discomfort, maybe pity, but all I saw was quiet concern. "I think maybe I do want to go home." I scrubbed my hand over my face. "It's been a long day, and I think I just need to get some sleep."

He was quiet for a moment, those dark eyes penetrating, likely seeing more than they should. I struggled not to squirm under his gaze. But then he stood and simply said, "Alright," and started walking to the car.

It took fifteen minutes to get back to town. Fifteen minutes to wonder why the fuck I'd spilled my guts to a guy I barely knew. Why I'd bared my soul to him when I'd never bared it to anyone other than Drea.

I pulled into his neighborhood, following his directions as he told me when to turn left and right. His house was dark, though the porch light was on, like a beacon of welcome as I pulled into the driveway.

"Thanks for the ride," he said softly, making no move to get out of the car.

"It's no problem. Sorry if I made it weird back there." I tried to make a joke out of it, make it out to be no big deal.

One corner of his mouth turned up, though his eyes remained serious. "I don't mind. We all need someone to talk to sometimes."

I didn't know what to say to that. I didn't really have any intention of letting it happen again. It had left me feeling exposed, like someone had scraped out my insides in order to examine them closer. No thank you.

Not wanting to be rude, I nodded but didn't offer anything more.

"Goodnight," he said, then climbed out of the car and made his way inside. I told myself I was watching him go because I wanted to make sure he got inside, but the truth was there was something about Jason, some pull, that I couldn't turn away from.

When he got to the door, he turned back and gave a small wave before disappearing inside, and I was left with the oddest sense of loss.

What a weird fucking night.