1642734778_punk-57-pdf

down. I feel the heat coming off his body, but I stand tall, daring him to
even try to pick another fight. He’s a jerk whose only kick in life is to make
mine miserable.
He doesn’t say anything, though, and keeps walking out the doors.
After he’s gone, Ten exhales a long sigh and turns back to me. “In case
you’re still trying to figure it out,” he says, “he wants you bad.”
I turn away, unable to shake the desire to go pick another fight. He
wants me bad? Well, he certainly doesn’t look like he’s suffering with need.
Not at all.
I pay for my drink and candy and head out of the stand with Ten. He
heads for a group of guys at a convertible, while I walk through the cars
toward Lyla’s BMW up front and try not to look for Masen. The sky is
black now, but the screen is shedding lots of light, and I hear the crickets
buzzing in the grass out in the distance. I spot Trey standing by his car,
flirting with some girl.
Awesome.
I keep walking, but I stop when I pass a big, black truck. Masen’s.
I glance around, finding him over by his new friends, including J.D.,
talking and laughing. People loiter about, caught up in their conversations,
and no one is looking at me. I stare at the truck, suddenly feeling inspired.
Holding back my smile, I set my drink and snack on the ground, next to
the tire, and open the back door on the driver’s side, quickly climbing in. I
shut the door and immediately notice how dark it is inside. I hadn’t noticed
that the afternoon at the car wash. The windows must be heavily tinted.
The leather interior shines black, just like the paint on the outside, and it
smells heady and rich, intoxicating, like him. I lick my lips, leaning up and
opening his console between the front seats, looking for something to write
with.