I hear tires approach, but I don’t turn around.
I don’t have to; I know it’s him.
“Want a ride?”
I slam my trunk closed, not taking a single moment to second-guess myself before saying, “Yes.”
Three
Six years ago, early September
Unknown:MAYDAY, MAYDAY. We have a MAJOR problem.
Denver:???
Denver:Who is this?
Unknown:Shepard Clark, a friend of AJ Sutton.
Denver:How did you get this number?
Unknown:AJ, obviously.
Denver:He just gave my number to some random creep? I’m going to murder him.
Denver:Go the hell away.
Unknown:I would but…this is important.
Unknown:You’re Denver Andrews, right? Best friends with Allie Hanson?
Denver:…yes?
Denver:How do you know all that?
Unknown:I told you—AJ.
Unknown:He’s my Allie.
Denver:So he’s your best friend? Why don’t you just say that?
Unknown:Because guys don’t say shit like “best friends”. We’re all just buddies. You wouldn’t understand.
Denver:Clearly.
Denver:What do you want?
Denver:Wait…how do you even know AJ? You live on the other side of the country.
Shepard:Stalked me that fast, huh? I’m impressed.
Denver:Shit up.
Shepard:I most certainly will not shit up.
Denver:I don’t even know you and I already hate you.
Shepard:Somehow, I doubt that.
