"No shit."

"He really wanted to give you this." He jerked his head in the direction of the car behind him. It was a green hatchback of some kind.

"I’m not taking it." I was firm, probably harsher than I should be.

"Fine," he sighed. "Look, I know we didn’t really get to know each other that well, and we didn’t really run in the same circles or whatever, but um, Lucy—she kind of misses the shit out of you. So, I don't know. Maybe you could call her or something?"

I nodded.

"Don’t cry," he said.

"Shit," I spat. "I keep doing that."

"Doing what?"

"Nothing."

Silence.

Awkward.

"I might see you around, Amanda."

"Okay," I said.

He lifted his arm, threw the keys into the house behind me, and bolted for Jake’s truck.

My head spun to find where the keys had landed, and by the time I'd turned around, he was gone, and so was Jake, and so was Jake’s truck.

"Assholes," I said to myself. I closed the door and picked up the keys.

"What was that about?" Ethan asked. His hair was wet. His clothes fresh out of the laundry; he must’ve just gotten out of the shower.

"Logan traded in his car and got me one, and used the leftover money to pay my tuition," I said flatly.

"Good." He made himself comfortable on the sofa, picked up the remote and turned the TV back on. "At least he’s done one thing right by you."

1

"Are you actually going to drive it today, or just stare at it again?"

"Shut up," I told Ethan as he stepped out of the house and started making his way over to his own car.

"All I’m saying is, you may as well drive it. It’s been sitting there for two weeks. Who fucking cares where it came from? It’s yours, and you deserve it."

I looked down at the keys in my hand. "Okay," I said under my breath. I wrapped my fingers around the metal and nodded my head once. "Okay," I repeated, reassuringly.

I opened the car door and sat in the drivers seat.

And that’s all I did.

Then the passenger's door swung open, and Ethan slumped into the seat. "Drive," he said, facing forward.

"Huh?"

"Drive. Let’s go home. It’s Tristan’s birthday. Let’s hang out there, forget this space for a while." He waved his hand in a circular motion. He didn’t have to say the words; I knew what he was getting at. I hated this house, and all the memories that came with it. He faced me. "Okay?" he asked.

"I have to work."

He took the keys from my hand, stuck one in the ignition, and turned it over. "I’ll call them, tell them you’ve got lady cramps or whatever. They won’t question it. Come on, Amanda. Let’s just . . . I don't know . . ." He shrugged. "Let’s just find a way to bring you back, even for a little bit."

***

I drove the two and a half hours home in my new car. I couldn’t deny it. I liked having a car; it felt like I was gaining some freedom.

I pulled up to the curb and parked. Ethan and I got out at the same time. He wanted to go to the liquor store and get some beers for him and Tristan, and I wanted to stretch my legs. We were both underage, for the next few months, at least. Ethan had a fake I.D and we were in a different town. I knew this area only by the few times I’d come here with him.

I must have been daydreaming while I was walking, because I didn’t see the store-door swing open, or the body that walked out of it.

Obviously.

Because I slammed right into it.

"Shit," I muttered, trying to regain my footing.

"Fuck." A deep rumble voice came from above my head.

Somehow, my hands had flattened against—what I assumed—was the person’s chest. I couldn’t be sure, because it felt like steel. People aren’t made of steel. I shut my eyes tight. The person’s hands grasped my elbows, trying to hold me up.

I finally settled, but my head was still down and my eyes were still closed. "You all good?" Man of steel asked.

I nodded.

He cleared his throat. "Amanda?"

My head whipped up. My eyes snapped open. "Hey, Dylan."

He let out all the air in his lungs and took a step back. And then he smiled—this huge, megawatt smile I’d never seen on him before. "How are you?"

I smiled back—genuinely—for the first time since he’d left. "I’m doing okay."

"Good."

Then it was quiet. I shuffled my feet. He crossed his arms over his wide chest.

"Are you doing anything right now?" he asked. His words were rushed, like it took all his energy to speak.

I shook my head. "Not really."

"Do you want to maybe go somewhere and talk? Look, I know that we didn’t really—or don’t really—know each other that well, but I think maybe I need to talk to someone I don’t know—about something that—"

"Sure," I cut in. If I didn’t, he’d never stop rambling.

"Yeah?" He raised his eyebrows. His hands went into the pockets of his jeans.

I looked away. The mannerism was too similar to someone else I know. Or knew. Whatever. "Uh-huh," I murmured, pulling out my phone to text Ethan.

We ended up sitting on the grass in the park on the other side of the road. I didn’t know what he wanted to talk about, so I stayed quiet, until finally, minutes later, he spoke. "You didn’t see where I was coming from when you ran into me like a linebacker, huh?"