Nobody saw him touch me.
Let me process this. The boy who hasn’t left my brain in over a week wants to see me again. Outside.
I crack my neck, and then the bartender notices me. I don’t want anything, but I don’t want it to seem like I was here just to get Jason’s attention.
“What can I getcha?” he asks.
“Er, just a Coke?”
He frowns, like that’s weird, but pours me one. It costs five dollars.
FIVE DOLLARS FOR A COKE. And that’s a Miller price.
So stupid.
I sip it slowly. It’s ice-cold, so it’s actually pretty delicious. But still, five dollars. I wait a while, just thinking. Has it been five minutes yet? I doubt it. I think he asked me to wait so people don’t think we left, like, together.
I finish my Coke and put the glass down on the bar. The ice rattles.
I stand and find my legs are shaking. I cross the room as quickly as I can, keeping my stare down so I don’t accidentally catch anyone’s eye, and then step outside. It’s humid out here, like an armpit.
Florida can be disgusting.
Jason is leaning against the wall of the alley. It’s so dark I can barely see him.
“Hey,” he says as he detaches from the wall. “For a second there I didn’t think you were coming.”
I shrug, managing to look everywhere but at him.
“Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad,” he says. “I’ve been looking forward to seeing you all week. I had so much fun with you.”
“Oh, um, cool.”
He grins at me, then starts walking down the street. I fall into step beside him. We’re going away from Sunshine Diner. I’m kind of bummed. I want more of those waffle fries in my life.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“I love that you asked that,” he says. “So trusting, like a little lamb.”
I scoff. “I didn’t say I’d go anywhere with you. I just want to know what the plan is. Don’t you want to go to the diner again?”
He shakes his head. “Not tonight.”
We reach the parking lot of the bar. I’m a little worried about how well lit it is. I feel like anyone could see me.
I turn and look at the bar. The upstairs windows face the lot.
He stops in front of a small silver Toyota and unlocks it with a fob. Its lights flash orange.
“Um,” I say. “I don’t know about this.”
“About what?”
“I don’t think getting in a car with, no offense, pretty much a total stranger, is a good idea.”
He tosses his keys up and down. “Why is that?”
“I dunno. I just want to be smart. No offense, but for all I know you could be a murderer.”
“I mean, maybe I am,” he says, and he grins.
“Hey, please don’t joke. I’m actually nervous.”
His face drops. “Oh, okay, sorry. Listen, I’m not going to hurt you. Look at me, I promise.”
I look into his eyes, searching for any warning signs.
There aren’t any.
He seems honest.
But something tells me that murder victims think the same thing before they’re killed.
Jason looks hurt that I don’t fully trust him. I get that. I would probably be pretty offended if someone implied they thought I might be a murderer.
“Seriously,” he says. “You’re going to be fine. I’m sorry I joked. I just know somewhere I think you’ll like. And to get there, we need to drive. We could go to the diner if you want, but trust me, this would be more fun. You in or you out?”
I should move fast, in case Dad looks out and sees me.
I get in the car.
CHAPTER FIVE
Luckily, Jason is a good driver.
Or, he’s at least competent. He’s not, like, swerving all over the road and nearly hitting people, and he’s obeyed every road rule I’ve noticed. He stops at yellow lights, is all I’m saying. It makes me feel a little better about being here.
Despite my nerves, I’m actually having a good time. This section of the city is really pretty, the perfect place for a night drive. We’re surrounded by gleaming skyscrapers and clean, pleasant streets. To my left is a portable traffic sign that reads, ENJOY THE BEACH, KEEP YOUR DRINKS INSIDE in big orange letters.
And it makes me think of something.
“Hey,” I say. “How old are you even?”
“How old do you think I am?”
“I have no idea.”
He smiles. “I turned eighteen last month. You?”
I nod. “Seventeen.”
“Yeah? You look older.”
I don’t know what to think about that. He doesn’t say it like an insult, but …
“I mean that in a good way!” he says. “I don’t mean that you look old or anything. You just look … you know. Older.”
“Oh, cool,” I say. “Thanks.”
“No worries.” He chews his lip. “So … what music do you like?”
My music tastes aren’t exactly cool. And I care about being cool right now.
I can’t even remember the last time I cared about something like this.
“I like alt rock,” I say. “But stuff that’s more on the pop side of things.”
“Sorry, dude, that makes zero sense to me.”
My cheeks are burning. The car is dark, though, so I don’t think he can tell.
At least I hope he can’t tell.
We’ve reached the main strip of the beach now, where the most famous hotels are. This whole street is deigned in this cool, art deco style. People are everywhere. I’m guessing most of them are tourists.
“The Killers are my favorite, but I also really like You Me at Six. That sort of thing.”
He grabs his phone from the slot on the dash and hands it to me. “Play something. Password is four thousand and one.”
His phone is the newest model of iPhone, in a clear plastic case. It’s really clean, not a smudgy mess like mine. I have the latest model, too, I just never really clean it.
I feel like I’ve been handed a holy grail.
I could find out his last name with this thing.
He hasn’t mentioned it, so I assumed our no-last-names thing is continuing. I just get a vibe from him that he doesn’t want to talk about his. Still, with his phone, he wouldn’t need to tell me.
I could find it out all on my own.
But he’s watching me warily. If I snoop, he’ll know.
Maybe he’s realized that he’s made an impulsive mistake. He looks a little pale and keeps glancing my way. It might be usual they-have-my-phone anxiety, but it could also be more.
And I don’t want him to distrust me. I unlock his phone and open the Spotify app. So no funny business. I search for Sam’s Town and play the title track. Then I lock his phone and put it back on the dash.
Matt Miller: fully trustworthy.
“What’s this?” he asks as the music starts playing. There’s an unmissable quiver in his voice. I get it, I hate it when people look at my phone, too.
“‘Sam’s Town.’ It’s from my favorite album.”
I feel weirdly anxious.
I hope he likes it.
He must. It’s a slam dunk of a song.