Page 14

Dallas

The window is empty except for the inky blackness of night and the cricket songs drifting in on the breeze. Alex is gone, all but confirmed by the sound of his boots hitting the concrete patio and then his shadow disappearing into the darkness. Meanwhile, I’m left still standing at my window with my mouth hanging open.

Did that just happen?

There’s another pound on my door, jolting me out of my stupor. I quickly reach up and shut the window with an exasperated growl before tugging the curtains closed. Seconds later, I throw open my bedroom door and come face to face with Colson, leaning against the door frame looking nothing short of irritated.

“Yeah?” I’m suddenly out of breath.

“Why didn’t you answer?” He sounds mildly offended.

“Well, I was asleep, Colson, ” I say with no shortage of sass.

He seems to accept my excuse and slinks past me, inviting himself into the bedroom. I catch a faint whiff of alcohol, maybe whiskey, but I don’t think he’s drunk. Buzzed, maybe, but he’s not staggering or slurring at the moment.

Colson wanders to the middle of the room, gazing around in silence as I eye him from the doorway. Then his eyes stop on my TV.

“Did you get a new TV?” he asks after a few seconds.

I clench my jaw and try my hardest not to make a terrible face at him. Or just start cussing him out.

“Yeah,” I reply with nonchalance, “the other one quit working.”

At the moment, it seems easier to just lie.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice strained like he had to push the words out of his chest.

My eyes narrow. “For what?”

Colson collapses onto the edge of my bed. “For your entire life right now.”

If he’s going to apologize for anything, I guess that pretty much covers everything.

“It’s not your fault,” I mumble down at the floor.

“Can you just—” he stops short, dragging his hands up and down his face, “can you just stay close?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like,” he hesitates, trying to find the words, “just stay close to me so I know where you are. Mom and Scott are dealing with the investigation, the rest of the family, all that bullshit…”

He trails off, his eyes wandering around my room again until, suddenly, they come to rest on the side table. I follow his gaze to the corner and my heart seizes when I catch sight of the thick framed black glasses folded neatly in the middle of the table.

Except they’re not my glasses.

And the longer Colson stares at them, the more I can feel microscopic droplets of sweat forming on my arms and forehead.

“Stay close how?” I ask, trying to draw his attention away from the table.

He squints at the glasses, throwing me into a panic. Propelling myself across the bed, I crawl over the comforter and, acting as casual as possible, grab the glasses and slide them up the bridge of my nose. When I turn to Colson, I’m utterly shocked. I can see him— clearly. I thought for sure I would be next to blind after putting them on, but somehow the prescription is only slightly off from mine. Good thing, or else Colson would get even more suspicious if I started stumbling around the room like I’m the drunk one.

He studies my face for a few more seconds until I arch my brow and shoot him a look that practically screams, get on with it.

Finally, he snaps out of it. “I just don’t want you to be alone, you know, when they’re gone. It’s not a good idea.”

“Yes, fine,” I say quickly.

I have no idea what he’s proposing, but right now, I just want him out of my room. I can barely think straight. The irony; Colson coming in here whining about how he’s worried about some faceless—or not so faceless—ghoul attacking me , when he’s the one who I have to lock out of my bedroom while Scott hides his guns. And, yet, I can’t help but reassure him. Why do I feel guilty for brushing him off?

Colson stands up with a huff and slowly turns to the door, but hesitates like he doesn’t know if he wants to leave yet.

God…

Closing the space between us, I wrap my arms around his torso. It’s always been the way to catch him off-guard; if I just grab onto him and don’t let go. Usually, it’s in a different context more reminiscent of the bull riders at a rodeo, but unexpected affection also works, too.

He wraps his arms around my shoulders and head, which barely comes up to his chest. He definitely smells like whiskey. And, with a deep breath, he tightens his grip, enveloping me in his massive arms. Squeezing his torso, I take the opportunity to shift my stance so that he faces away from the dresser. And then I pray that he doesn’t turn around, because then he might see my purple glasses case with my pair of black glasses inside—wide open for everyone to see.

●●●

The frames are just as thick, but definitely not the exact shape as my glasses. I laugh to myself, sliding Alex’s glasses back down the bridge of my nose and tucking them into a plain, nondescript plastic case I found at the bottom of my bathroom drawer. I replace my own black rimmed glasses and do a final once-over in my mirror.

Loose high waist jeans with Vans and a fitted purple crop top. I was planning on living in running shorts the rest of the year, hoping to stay invisible, but sometimes I even surprise myself. But, just to be clear, I am not trying to look good for Alex Barrera. All the same, I run a brush through my hair one final time, hoping it doesn’t frizz to hell in the humidity.

Colson seems like he’s in a relatively good mood, as if he’s never gone to school with a hangover before. But he’s also huge, so what would kill me would probably only give him a buzz.

“Text me if you want to leave,” he calls after me when we part ways at the stairwell.

He says this every morning now. And maybe one day before school ends, I’ll take him up on it. But not today. I’ve decided I finally need to talk to Shelby. We haven’t gone this long without speaking since…ever. And it sucks. It really sucks. And maybe Alex is right that I need to cut her some slack. Anyhow, I need to keep this momentum; the kind that comes from clarity and a different perspective.

And Alex Barrera kissing me before jumping out my window and vanishing into the night.

God…

I’m still thinking about it in U.S. History instead of the worksheet I’m supposed to be filling out while Coach Wheeler stands up at the podium calling on unsuspecting students to identify the differences between the three branches of government. By the time the bell rings for lunch, I’m about to crawl out of my skin.

Routine is a funny thing. Regardless of what’s happened or the awkwardness that persists, I still walk into the cafeteria and sit down at the same table, with the same people, even if I’m currently not speaking to one of them. But I also can’t hide in the library forever, so I sit down next to Shelby, who’s trying to act casual while trying desperately to tear open a packet of mustard for her turkey sub.

Nobody outright ignores me, but they don’t speak to me, either. Carter and Maddie glance at me throughout their conversation in that way that indicates they’re passively including me, but Austin is the only one who addresses me when I sit down. Once he turns to one of his teammates sitting at the table behind us, I’m left with the awkwardness of everyone knowing that I stormed out of Web Design and haven’t spoken to any of them since.

“Hey,” I finally tap Shelby’s arm with my knuckle, giving her a start.

She turns to me, her dark eyebrows unable to decide whether to go up or down. Shelby’s ready at a moment’s notice to go head-to-head with anyone, but this time she doesn’t know what to do. Probably because we hardly ever argue, and when we have, it’s never been so bad that it resulted in the cold shoulder.

“I was angry about the movie, but I understand now that maybe you just didn’t know what to do. I still don’t really know what to do because everything sucks. But it sucks more without you.”

Shelby starts shaking her head. “I should’ve just asked, but I didn’t want it to come off like I didn’t care, like our plans were more important than what happened. I don’t know you like this, y’know? It’s like—” she pauses, “it’s the kind of thing that happens to someone else, like on the news or a podcast, but it’s not. It happened to you, and I’m sorry I didn’t just ask what you wanted.”

“You’re here now, and that’s what matters. Besides,” I cast a devious glance over my shoulder at Austin, “Austin said he would pay for everyone to go see the movie again. And he might wear the black lipstick with me.”

“Thank you,” Shelby reaches for me and pulls me in with a sigh of relief, then lowers her voice to a whisper, “ because yesterday in French, I accidentally told Kelsey Cutright that CJ was cheating on her and then she called him during class and screamed at him in front of everyone and I had no one to tell. ”

I pull away, my eyes bulging. “How did you accidentally tell her that?”

“You know how we went and saw Zero Reckoning? ” Shelby asks sheepishly, “Well, I thought I saw her there in the back row with her head in his lap and I might’ve tried to give her a hard time about it. But it definitely wasn’t her.”

I let out a whoop of laughter and then slap my hand over my mouth. After another minute, I’m sufficiently worried that my eyeliner might be running from laughing so hard.

“It happened, I was there,” Carter chimes in from across the table, “you could hear everyone yelling and laughing in Mrs. Tramer’s class down the hall.”

“Well done,” I nod, flashing her the OK symbol, “bra- vo. ”

“Yeah, well maybe CJ should’ve been more discrete about his extra-curriculars,” Shelby retorts as she goes back to fighting with her mustard packet.

“Good, glad that’s over,” Austin mutters before gulping down the rest of his Gatorade, “so can we talk about Shapeshift ? ”

I shoot him a confused look. “Shapeshift ? ”

They’re a band that was formed by four guys who graduated from Dire Ridge years ago and they’ve amassed a cult following, us included. Bailin Marquardt’s claim to fame as their lead singer are his filthy screams mixed with animal-like growls and howling. It sounds downright terrifying, which is why they’re one of my favorite bands.

“ Ooh, yeah, ” Shelby whips around with excitement, “there’s a pop-up show tonight, allegedly in the basement of the Starliner , ” she says, shooting Austin a dubious look.

“Tonight? How do you know?” I ask Austin.

“Adam Casey’s sister gets her hair done by the girlfriend of their drummer’s brother’s roommate and said they’re stopping here on their way to Kansas City.”

As weird as it sounds, it’s probably legit. The really obscure connections are usually the ones that pan out.

The old theatre at the edge of Dire Ridge and Hellbranch is known for playing indie films and campy classics and hosting smaller shows in the 1,200-person venue. However, over the past year, I found out the basement is where the brand-new bands play and the not-so-new ones have secret shows known only by word of mouth. They’re also really cheap, if not free, to get into because they test out their new material. It’s first-come-first-served and the doors close when they hit capacity.

“We’re going,” I say with conviction.

“ Yesss, ” Shelby hisses, pumping her fists and doing a little dance in her seat.

“I’ll pick up you and Carter and Trey’s getting Shelby and Maddie.”

“Wait, is Trey your cousin?” I whip around to Shelby. “What’s the deal with that?”

Shelby’s eyes shoot up from her mustard packet right before it finally detonates all over her sandwich as well as her phone sitting next to it. She lets out a frustrated huff but quickly recovers once she hears my question.

“No deal yet,” she says with a tight-lipped smile, “still in negotiations.”

“Should I ride with you all instead?” Maddie asks Austin through hooded eyes. “I think I should ride with you all.”

Before I can hear the finer details of the Shelby-Trey drama, I realize I still have one more task to complete before lunch is over. I reach into my bag and pull the case with Alex’s glasses inside, turning it over in my hands while searching the cafeteria for him. I finally see him sitting at his usual table—or what I assume is his usual table. I’ve never actually noticed or cared until now.

But as soon as I see Aiden next to him, I realize there’s no way I can go over there. I just have to hope that they all don’t walk out together, lest I elicit more than a few questions from his friends about why I have his glasses. But while I’m gazing at their table, Alex catches me staring at them like a creep. I quickly avert my eyes, only to look up again and give the glasses case a quick shake at chest-level. He arches his brow when he sees it and pauses for a moment before turning back to his friends.

The bell finally rings, prompting a cacophony of scraping chairs.

“When should we get there?” Shelby asks as she crumples up the remnants of her mustard-smeared lunch.

“Be ready at six,” Austin replies, “I don’t know when they’ll start, but we need to make sure we can even get in.”

“Text me when you’re on your way,” I say to Austin as I sling my bag over my shoulder and hurry across the cafeteria to the far wall.

If Alex is heading toward the same door we left through the other day, he’ll be walking this way. Then again, he was walking me to class, so I don’t know where he usually goes. But, to my relief, I see him approach while I’m lingering next to the water fountain and it doesn’t look like he’s walking with anyone.

“You have something of mine?” he asks with a coy smile.

“Colson saw them on my table,” I smile back, handing him the case.

Alex’s face falls. “Shit, what’d he say?”

“Nothing. I put them on and acted like they were mine. I can actually see in them, so we have almost the exact same prescription.”

“Really?” he snickers, “I’m so sorry you’re blind, too.”

The cafeteria continues to empty, leaving us behind. Once everyone passes, we head for the doors.

Alex pulls the door open for me. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep in your room. To be fair, those Skooshmallow things are really comfortable.”

“ Squishmallows, ” I smile.

“My mistake. Maybe I’ll borrow one next time.”

Next time…

“Yeah, you didn’t even get to play Tomb Raider last night.”

He follows me up the stairs to the second floor and we continue down the hall to Coach Wheeler’s classroom. I still don’t know where he’s supposed to be or why it seems like he’s never in a hurry to get there.

We stop about 10 feet from the classroom door. “Then I’ll come back tonight. Will you be around?”

“Yeah,” but then I remember Shapeshift, “wait—no! I mean, I just found out my favorite band might be at the Starliner, so I’m going to see them.”

“Which one?”

“Shapeshift. Adam Casey—” I’m about to tell Alex how I “know” they’ll be there, and then think better of it, “he heard they’re giving a pop-up show, so a few of us are going to check it out.”

Alex nods. “How about tomorrow?”

I pause to think for a moment. “Yeah, tomorrow’s good.”

After a few seconds, Alex’s eyes shift, like he’s looking at something on my forehead. Instinctively, I reach up and rub my head.

“What?” I ask, eyeing him suspiciously.

He clenches his jaw and glances around, almost agitated. “How do you get your hair to smell so good?”

I crack a smile. “What?”

“Your hair,” he says, this time slightly louder, “why does it smell so good?”

Realization washes over me, followed by a comforting warmth. “It’s Marc Jacobs Daisy,” I reply, “if you spray perfume on your hair in layers, it smells better than shampoo. Evie did it all the time.”

“Chemical warfare, huh?”

“I’m not fighting anyone!” I retort. “But why did you…” my eyes fall to the marbled tile and I lower my voice, “why did you kiss me last night?”

I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it, but as soon as I say it, I wish I hadn’t. Maybe I don’t want to know the answer. Maybe it was just another dumb thing that Alex did to mess with me, just like the rest of them do.

“I wanted to see if you taste as good as you smell,” he shrugs, “should I not have?”

“No. I mean, yeah—it’s fine,” I stammer like an idiot.

“It’s fine? ” Alex smiles with amusement.

God, I sound like a space case…

Sufficiently flustered, I shoot him an impatient look. “Well?”

“Well, what?”

“Do I?”

Alex doesn’t answer at first, only cocks his head with curiosity. Finally, he leans closer.

“ Better, ” he murmurs, “so good that maybe I’ll do it again.”

Then he steps past me before I can respond.

“Get to class, Dallas,” he calls over his shoulder as he saunters away.

●●●

“It’s just the Starliner,” I call into the living room as I pack my shorts pockets with as few items as possible. Cash, house key, phone, lip gloss… “We don’t even have homework anymore!”

“That’s the only place you’re going.” Judging by the tone of my mom’s voice, it’s not a question.

“If the band actually shows up, there’s no way I’m leaving until they do. And if not, I’ll just come home.”

“And you’re riding with Austin.” Again, not a question. “And you’re not to leave his side.”

I mean geez, what a way to say don’t wander off…

Granted, my mom loves Shelby, but even she knows that Shelby isn’t exactly a deterrent for anything.

“Mom, we’ll all be together.”

I know why she’s asking these questions, but neither of us want to address that elephant in the room. Or, better yet, the entire African safari stuffed inside our house. Speaking of which, the lion himself is upstairs in his room, probably playing Witcher 3 and planning to berate me about it later. Anyhow, I want to be gone before he finds out I’m going out and grills me like our mom is right now.

“Is your phone charged?”

“Yes,” I sigh.

As if I would go anywhere without my phone or ride in a car without a charger—the stuff of nightmares.

Just as I say it, Austin texts me that he’s outside.

I hold up my phone. “See? He’s here now.”

It’s not lost on me that my mom and Scott are much less likely to argue with my plans tonight if they know that Austin and his presumably just-as-tall and intimidating cousin are going with us to find Shapeshift. And I’ll take full advantage. I also haven’t left the house for anything but school since the day Evie was found and I’m starting to go crazy. I think my mom knows it from the way she eyes me whenever I grab food from the kitchen and disappear back upstairs before anyone can speak to me.

She should be grateful that I’m running out the door into the land of the living instead of locking myself in my cave. Granted, I like my bubblegum pink cave; it’s quiet and familiar and I can ignore everything going on outside. But I also like Shapeshift, and it’s the perfect distraction tonight.

I jog to Austin’s Range Rover and throw open the back door. Carter turns around in the front seat and gives me a once-over, examining my tight black tee, cutoff shorts over ripped black tights, and black combat boots.

“You’re the only person I know who looks hot in glasses,” she says wistfully.

I laugh to myself. Chronic dry-eye, especially at night…

Tonight, it’s the purple frames to balance all the black.

“Of course she is,” Maddie scoffs from the seat next to me, “if I wore mine, I’d look like I’m about to set off for a deep-sea expedition into the Mariana Trench.”

There’s also no way I’m going to risk getting dry contacts and seeing Shapeshift through itchy, foggy lenses. Plus, they’re right, I look damn good in my glasses.

By the time we get to the Starliner and head for the doors, the theatre looks nearly empty, no different than any other weeknight. But when we round the corner to the back of the building, everything changes. People are all but running across the decaying asphalt to the cracked concrete stairs leading to the lower level.

They have to be here.

“Come on!” Maddie shouts to someone across the parking lot as we all start running.

I turn to see Shelby sprinting toward us with a guy right behind her. It must be Trey, Austin’s infamous cousin. He looks like the anti-Austin, with his dark shaggy hair, dark eyes, and skater vibe. We all meet at the bottleneck in a fit of shrieks and giggles, all but falling down the stairs as we secure our place in the queue.

Shelby motions to me. “This is Dallas,” she gasps, out of breath, “Dallas, this is Trey.”

He gives a nod, extending his hand. I shake it and start to say something, but the line moves and everyone rushes forward as though a jam’s just been cleared.

“No cover!” a stocky guy with a goatee calls, waving everyone forward.

“If you want to drink, you need a wristband!” another with light hair and gauged ears shouts from the other side of the door.

Both of them are wearing black t-shirts with SECURITY printed on the right breast. I grab Austin’s arm so I don’t get swept away in the crowd before we finally make it into the open area. The black floors and walls give way to a stage that’s lit with orange and pink lights and instruments scattered across the ancient wood plank flooring. Carter points and we make a beeline for the stage, nearly knocking over the metal barricade to secure spaces right in front.

The noise, the smell of perfume and cologne from the bodies all around us, the smell of popcorn drifting over the crowd from the bar in the back—all of it tricks me into thinking I’m some place where the only worry I have is realizing I forgot to pack an extra pair of underwear for whoever’s house I’m staying at.

I want to forget what day it is and get lost in whatever’s about to happen. When the lights finally go down and the crowd erupts in ear-splitting screams, Randy Mondelli, the drummer of Shapeshift, strolls onstage. And I scream with them, feeling the freest I’ve ever been, crammed together with my friends and a hundred other people I’ve never seen before.

Their guitarist follows, and then their bassist. Finally, the silhouette of a man with his signature top knot appears on the left side of the stage. The room goes black and Bailin Marquardt enters the stage, flashes of strobe lights punctuating each move. There’s a pause, and then lights flood the stage and he unleashes a deep, guttural scream into the microphone.

Shelby and I turn to each other and let out simultaneous screams, and then turn to the stage to let out another as Bailin leans into the crowd with another roar. We’re nothing but whisps of hair thrashing back and forth with the beat as hard as an earthquake. It goes on like this for another four songs, each more electric than the last.

Suddenly, something slams against my shoulder and someone crashes against the barricade. I stagger to the side, pushed into the bodies next to me as Shelby disappears, replaced by a wave of guys crushed against one another. They bounce off the metal piping, but I’m cut off from the rest of the group, trying to hang on before I get pulled back into the crowd.

Did we seriously end up right in front of the pit?

Apparently so, and now I’m fighting for my life to ride it out without any broken bones. I raise my arm to my head and try to look for Shelby, but it’s no use. My ribs hit the barricade, making me wince in pain. I can’t push off of the bars, someone keeps slamming into my back. Or more like a dozen somebodies. Someone slams into me again, knocking the wind out of me. My head whips from side to side, searching for the security guys, but they’re focused on either side of the stage plucking surfers out of the crowd.

I’m about to try and climb over the barricade to escape when an arm passes in front of my face. A hand grabs the top of the barricade next to me and blocks the next person before we collide. Someone brushes against my back and then they plant their other hand on the opposite side of me. When I look up, there’s a guy looking down at me.

“You alright?” he shouts in my ear.

I nod as people bounce around behind him, but he stands firm, like a cage blocking the chaos.

I tilt my head back, looking straight up at him. “Thank you!” I shout.

He looks down with a smile and nods, tossing his dark hair out of his eyes. I can finally enjoy the show again once I’m sure I won’t end up a pile of pulverized skin and guts on the floor. And I really don’t mind being trapped between this guy’s arms right now. He’s really cute. At least I think he is, with what I’ve seen of his face when the lights flash across it every few seconds. When a song gets especially wild, he wraps one arm around my waist and braces us both against the railing while people slam into his back. But, each time, he’s unperturbed by any of it, just nodding his head with the beat.

When Bailin Marquardt announces their last song, I’m overcome with disappointment. I don’t want to leave. I don’t want any of it to end. I’ve been so immersed in the music and the feeling of being wrapped in a cocoon by some guy who saved my ass from the pit that I haven’t bothered to even look for Shelby or Austin or anyone else.

When I feel my mosh pit savior’s arm around me again, a wave of butterflies rush through my stomach and in that moment I forget everything outside of this room. There’s nothing but this song and this hotbox of reckless abandon. And the thought of having to walk out of here, back out into the dark parking lot, makes me want to crumble into a pile of dust.

But eventually, the song ends and my mosh pit savior loosens his hold around me. Randy Mondelli chucks each of his drumsticks into the crowd and Bailin Marquardt waves as he saunters off the stage. When I turn around, I suddenly realize that the guy is gone. It’s like he was never there, replaced by faceless people in the darkness who are just as disappointed to return to real life.

“ Shit, ” I hiss to myself as I start trudging toward the doors with the crowd.

At least I know where Austin parked, so I decide to just head there instead of trying to find anyone in this mess. The sultry night air hits my face like a wave on a beach, and everything sounds muted, likely due to my eardrums being assaulted for two hours straight. I’m not standing at the Range Rover for two minutes before I hear the pats of shoes running toward me.

“Dallas!” Shelby calls, “Where were you?”

“Nowhere special,” I narrow my eyes with an accusatory look, “just trying not to get pummeled by a bunch of dudes who smelled like sweaty underwear.”

“That…was awesome, ” Carter groans as she arrives at the car.

“Dallas, where were you?” Austin calls to me from behind her, earning himself a scowl from me. “What?” he chirps, utterly clueless.

“Were you still up front?” Shelby asks.

“We got shoved to the far end of the stage,” Maddie chimes in, “but Randy was, like, right there. ”

I throw my hair back, trying to sound as pompous as possible. “I was right in the middle the entire time. ”

“Nuh-uh!” Austin scoffs, “I didn’t even see—”

“Hey, who’s that?” Maddie interrupts as she peers around me, “I think that guy’s looking at you, Dallas.”

I turn to see a group of guys standing at a couple of dirt bikes and a BMW that looks like it’s more after-market parts than original. One of them is clearly looking this way.

It has to be the guy from inside, not that I can tell from his face. It was dark except for a few flashes of light and now he’s wearing a helmet that covers everything but his eyes. But I recognize his height as well as his Navy-blue t-shirt with Yamaha stamped across the front. It’s all but confirmed when he starts walking toward us.

“Yeah, I met him inside.” Kind of… “He showed up just in time before I got crushed in the pit. By the way, thanks for nothing, ” I scoff at them.

“I tried to find you. I swear!” Shelby squeaks. “You saw what it was like in there!”

“Did I ever. Now that you mention it, I need to go thank my new best friend for saving my life! ” I tease.

Shelby lets out an exasperated groan and turns back to Trey, who’s watching our exchange with amusement. I meet the mosh pit savior-turned biker guy halfway across the asphalt.

“Thanks again,” I say as I come to a halt in front of him.

“My pleasure,” he replies from behind his helmet, “did you find your people?”

“Yeah, and I had a way better view than them.”

“You’re welcome,” he chuckles. “What’s your name?”

“Dallas.”

“ Da-allas… ” he sounds it out slowly, like he’s committing it to memory.

“What’s your—” I start to ask his, but I’m interrupted by a shout from the shitty BMW he just came from.

“Jesse!”

He turns to acknowledge one of the boys yelling in his direction.

So, his name is Jesse.

A couple of them duck into the BMW while another one jogs past us toward the group. A guy with brown hair pulls on his helmet and mounts his white dirt bike, motioning for Jesse to follow.

“Want to come with me?” he asks, nodding to his orange dirt bike in the distance.

“Where?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugs. “Just a ride. Then I can take you home.”

I glance back at my friends, chewing my lip while I debate. Do I want to go with Jesse and do something that would, no doubt, be exciting? Yes. Do I want to face my mother’s wrath if she catches sight of me climbing off some stranger’s bike after I promised not to leave Austin’s side? Definitely not. If I’m going to hide away at home, it’s going to be on my own terms and not because I’m grounded until I’m 18.

“I can’t,” I mutter with disappointment, “I’m kind of on probation.”

“Uh-oh, what’d you do?”

“Nothing, really, just…” I have no intention of divulging anything that’s been happening in my life. “A lot of family stuff. My parents are just paranoid right now.”

Jesse nods and glances back at his friend on the white dirt bike waiting for him patiently.

“In that case,” he reaches down and takes my hand, bringing it to his helmet and tapping my knuckles on the front where his mouth would be, “see you at the next show, pretty girl.” He winks and then lets my arm fall as he backs away.

Holding my eyes, he backtracks until finally turning around and swaggering back to his bike. A minute later, they roar out of the lot and vanish into the night. It’s another minute until I realize that I don’t have his number, and he doesn’t have mine. He just became a ghost, and my only chance to ever see him again is another Shapeshift show. Maybe.

I begin the lonely march back to the Range Rover. I should still be riding the high of standing less than 10 feet from my favorite band. I should be so pumped about it that I can barely form words. But for some reason, now it falls just short, like I need an even bigger distraction to blot out the shit show waiting for me at home.

And, now, I only have one thought.

Maybe I should’ve gotten on the bike with him.