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muscles
were both soft and hard. My head fit perfectly beneath his chin. We stood like
that for what seemed like a long while. He smelled like sweat, but the good
kind of sweat. He could have smelled like the weird stuff that was fermenting
in the floor drain, and I still would have liked it.
    “I better get back up there,” I said, my cheek still against his
chest. He was a whole head taller than my five foot three inches, and I was
glaringly aware of his fingers on my back, wrapping around to the side of my
ribs. We had never been this close, even though I’d imagined what it must have
felt like many times before.
    He pulled away. “I’ll see you later?”
    “I have homework.”
    “Bring it with you.”
    I tucked my hair behind my ear. “I guess I can do that. If you
leave me alone and let me finish.”
    “You won’t even know I’m there.”
    He pushed through the door, and when it slammed behind him, I ran
to the front, nearly smacking Frankie in the face with the swinging door.
    Weston jogged to his truck, climbed in, and sped off, pausing for
only a moment before pulling out onto Main Street.
    Frankie watched me expectantly.
    I shrugged.
    “So he’s your knight in shining armor, now?” she asked.
    My face screwed up into disgust. “No. I told him I don’t need to
be saved. And you should already know that about me by now.”
    She smirked. “But it’s kinda nice to be defended.”
    I tried not to smile, but lately it was impossible not to.
    “I like him,” Frankie said. “And so do you. But in a completely
different way.”
    I made a face. “You have a vivid imagination.”
    “You’re different since he started hangin’ around.”
    “I don’t know what you mean,” I said, rolling my eyes and
reaching for the closest rag.
    “Well, you don’t hate him.”
    I scrubbed the sink without actually paying attention to what I
was doing. “Not today.”
    ~*~
    When we closed the Dairy Queen and walked out the back
door, the red pickup wasn’t parked in the back. It wasn’t anywhere.
    “I thought y’all had plans?” Frankie asked.
    I shrugged.
    “Ride?”
    I shook my head and walked home. My hand touched the handle on
our dirty screen door. I waited for the sound of his engine, but heard nothing.
Soul Asylum drifted through the walls, and I was glad. If I was going to be
stood up by Weston, I didn’t want to have to deal with Gina, too.
    I pushed through the door and headed straight back to my room. It
felt lonelier than usual. A loud knocking came from the front door, and I rolled
my eyes, assuming it was one of Gina’s friends or her dealer, coming over to
party. A few seconds later, Gina appeared in my doorway, her heavy mascara was
smeared, the whites of her eyes bright red and glassy. She was still in her
supermarket apron and her name badge was hanging crooked from her white polo
shirt.
    “It’s for you.” Her face mirrored my confusion.
    I nodded and stood up, walking into the front room. I stopped in
the middle of the carpet. Weston was standing in the front doorway, his hands
in the pockets of his letterman jacket. The body of the coat was maroon-dyed
wool, and a big Chenille B was stitched to the left side, outlined in white.
Weston’s jacket was almost too busy with everything he’d lettered in during his
high school career, especially with the numerous patches on his leather
sleeves. I’d never wanted a letterman, and it was weird to see someone wearing
one in my living room.
    Gina stood next to me, gawking at him. She scratched her arm and
nodded toward him. “Who is he?”
    Weston held out his hand. “Weston Gates, ma’am. I’m a friend of
Erin’s.”
    Gina hesitated, but she finally shook his hand then looked to me.
“Are you going somewhere?”
    I nodded.
    “Erin was going to help me with my homework.” He lied seamlessly,
as if he’d done it a thousand times before.
    “Oh,” Gina said, satisfied. That probably made sense to her,
because she couldn’t fathom