And then it struck me—why we were both so comfortable, here, on this one night, as complete strangers. Maybe we both had something to hide. Maybe we both enjoyed the company of someone who didn’t know us well enough to judge us. Maybe we were both so sick of faking it—our breathing had somehow become natural around each other, the way it should be and not a struggle like it usually was.

CHAPTER THREE

“You ready for me to take you home now?” I asked as we exited the restaurant into the crisp morning air.

She tilted her head all the way back; I noticed her straight blonde hair flowing down to her waist as she eyed the sky. The sun had just started to come up. It had turned the atmosphere that unique shade of orange you could find only in that part of town, at that time of the morning. For some reason, the mood seemed to electrify her.

“It’s perfect,” she whispered, her head still thrown back.

“Yeah,” I agreed. But my eyes were fixed on her, and I knew we weren’t talking about the same thing.

She smiled, but she didn’t speak. I wasn’t sure how long she stood there, soaking up the morning light, but it didn’t feel like long enough. The restaurant door behind us slammed shut, and Clayton walked out with his hands shoved in his pockets. We both turned to him. He pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and inhaled. Blowing the smoke from the side of his mouth, he jerked his head, motioning for her.

Abby’s eyes flitted from him to me. “I’ll be right back,” she said, and then slowly made her way over to him. Initially, they spoke quietly—too quietly for me to hear—but all too quickly, their conversation grew heated. “You don’t need to do this,” he barked, pointing up and down at her body.

She took a step toward me, but he held her back with his hand curled around her forearm. “Fuck you, Clay. You don’t know shit.”

I stepped forward.

She held up her hand to stop me.

Narrowing his eyes at me, he sounded defeated when he said, “I’m just worried about you.” He spoke into her ear but loud enough for me to hear. He kept his eyes locked on mine, as if to make sure I’d heard him. I had. But it only made me more confused.

About her.

About that night.

About everything.

She frowned. “I’m okay,” she assured him. “You know this is just a hard day for me.”

He exhaled loudly, then nodded at me as he released her arm. He spun on his heels, threw open the restaurant door, and stepped inside, lit cigarette still in his mouth.

“Let’s go,” she said, walking past me.

I rushed up until I was alongside her. “I take it you’re not going to tell me what that was about.”

She turned to glare at me. Fire.

“Whoa.” I surrendered. “I’m not your enemy, okay?”

She relaxed, just slightly.

Jerking my thumb behind us, I added, “And to be honest, I don’t think he is, either.”

“Great,” she said sarcastically, “someone else who thinks they know everything about me.”

I stopped walking. “Abby, I don’t know anything about you. That’s the way you want it to be, remember? You want to give me a little insight so that maybe I don’t go judging that guy at face value, then go ahead.” I crossed my arms. “I’m waiting.”

Her eyes narrowed, and I detected the trace of a sneer. I couldn’t help but smile. “You’re an ass,” she snapped.

I laughed. “And you’re cute when you’re mad.”

I would’ve missed the widening of her eyes if I hadn’t been studying her so intently. Her cheeks darkened before she looked away. “You’re still an ass.” She poked me in the stomach. Then winced when her finger bent back against it. “Dude, you’re like superman.”

“Does that make you my kryptonite?”

She smiled then, and raised her nose in the air. With a gleam in her eyes, she said, “Maybe.”

And that was when it happened.

Something changed.

A switch.

It felt like someone had taken away the gray dullness behind my eyes and splashed color into them.

Like I was seeing things in a different light, from a different life.

I swallowed, too nervous to speak.

Maybe she was my kryptonite.

She directed me to a part of town that I knew existed but had never been in before. The houses were smaller, not as well maintained as where I grew up.

“Just here,” she said, pointing to one on the left. “And turn your lights off.”

I did as she asked. Even went as far as turning off the engine and letting the car roll to a stop. She nervously chewed her lip. Her eyes squinted, focused on the house.

“What’s going on, Abby? Are you out past curfew or something?”

She laughed quietly. “Or something.”

I looked from her to the residence. My nerves formed a knot in the pit of my stomach. Shifting my gaze back to her, I asked, “Are you afraid to go home?”

Her eyes narrowed.

There it was again—that protective instinct. “Is someone in there going to hurt you?” I started to open my door. “I’ll kick their ass.” I was dead serious. I didn’t even think about the ramifications of what would happen if I did.

As I began to step out of the car, she grabbed my arm.

She eyed me sideways. “No one is hurting me, I swear.” She tried to contain her smile. “There are kids inside. I just don’t want to wake them—it’s early. If they wake up now, it’ll throw their routine off for the entire day . . .”