He climbs in his own side and inserts the key into the ignition. Before turning it over, he looks my way. “Are you up for anything?” He stares over at my casual dress of shorts and a t-shirt with flip-flops.

“Yeah,” I answer.

“Let’s go then.” He turns the key over and the engine starts with a purr, instead of the usual backfire of the cars around here.

He drives us out toward the highway and for some reason I realize where we’re going before we actually turn off the exit.

“The Valley?” I ask, and he nods bearing his typical smirk.

“The Valley,” he confirms.

“I haven’t been there since your dad had that picnic on Memorial Day that one year. Remember everyone thought Gia and Kim got lost somewhere on the trail?” I laugh, remembering Dex and I finding them making out with each other behind some tree. Since we were so much younger, I think we were both confused about what they were up to at the time.

“If I knew then what I know now, I would have thought it was hot as hell instead of the delusional idea they were practicing kissing on each other,” he reveals, and I nudge him in the arm.

“You did? Why would they practice kissing?”

“Isn’t that what you chicks do? You kiss each other so you’re prepared for your first kiss?” he questions and I cock my head over at him in disbelief.

“Do you kiss your best friend to practice?”

Dex squints over and coughs as though he may throw up in his mouth. “No,” he answers with a firm shake of his head.

“Neither do we. It’s just normal trial and error when it actually happens. I swear, guys and their lesbian fantasies,” I remark, half-heartedly laughing at him.

“Crap. All that useless material when I was younger, imagining you and your best friend practicing.” He snickers, and I push him again, making his body connect with the window before it bounces back in front of the steering wheel.

He parks the truck between the angled lines, and I climb out to meet him around back. Once the back door opens, I jump up and down. “I knew I smelled it, but didn’t want to assume.”

“It’s your favorite.” He shrugs, grabbing the bag of Chick-Fil-A from the back.

“You’re my favorite,” I tell him, getting on my tiptoes and kissing his cheek. When my feet are flat on the ground again, Dex’s face is a little pinker than it had been a second before. Noticing his reaction to my lips on him makes my own stomach flutter a little.

“Let’s go.” He motions with his head toward the rocks and after walking through the mowed field, dodging families tossing Frisbees and footballs around, we arrive safely on the other side. “Sit,” he commands, and I tilt my head. “Please,” he adds.

“Gladly,” I respond after he asks me nicely.

Sitting down on the rock with the bright sun facing us, I anxiously wait for him to get the fried chicken and waffle fries out of the bag. “Just hold on, Miss Antsy Pants,” he teases, and I giggle.

Finally, a few minutes later, it’s all out in front of us. “Thanks,” I mumble around my first bite, and he chuckles.

“No problem. It’s my apology,” Dex says before taking his own bite of sandwich.

Swallowing and laying the sandwich down, I stare at him for a few seconds. “So? Did you have forgiving to do to anyone else?” I ask.

“HELL NO! I told you, Chrissy, I’m done with her.” He turns away from me, looking out to the tree lined horizon in front of us. “She plays games, and I don’t do games.”

“Oh.” I pop a fry in my mouth. “I’m sorry,” I say, and his head whips my way.

“Don’t be.” He doesn’t add anything more and suddenly our usual casual and fun surroundings turn solemn and quiet. “Shit, the last thing I want to talk about today is Tori.” I can’t help but think he did have feelings for her because if he cared less about what went down, he wouldn’t be so distant when the topic is brought up.

“Okay, what do you want to talk about?” I ask, sitting up a little straighter, showing he has my full attention.

“You.” His eyes meet mine, and they are so piercing, I gulp the last drop of saliva in my mouth. “I mean what have you been up to?”

“Nothing. School, keeping things going. My life is boring, especially to Mr. Football Star.” I pawn off the conversation to him like I always do. It’s easier to forget what I’ll go home to after he drops me off, as though I can live vicariously through him.

“Your dad?” he asks, peeking up at me through his eyelashes.

“Same. Slipping lower and lower every day. Is it bad I just wish he’d disappear? One day he may not come back.” Now it’s my turn to stare out at the horizon, but the heat of Dex’s eyes on me are felt the whole time.

“I’m sorry,” he says in the most empathetic voice I’ve ever heard, and all it does is piss me off.

“Stop it, please. I don’t want anyone’s sympathy or sad eyes. One day my life will be different.”

“I’ll make sure of it,” Dex promises, and I spin my face his way.

“No, you won’t. You have your own life to worry about. I’m not your responsibility.”

He scoots closer to me, and I pull my knees to my chest in order to shelter myself from what he’s about to do.

“I want to. Chrissy.” He places his finger under my chin and brings my face to his, “all you need to do is allow me to do it.”

“I’m not sure I can,” I tell him.

“Try.”

18 years old

MINDLESSLY TOSSING MY sweatshirt over my head and slipping my shoes on, I throw my phone in my purse and leave the safe confines of my apartment. Rubbing my eyes awake, I stumble down the first step before gripping the railing to keep myself from cracking my head open.

Although darkness fills the night sky, people still mill about. In these parts of the city, some are just getting off work, some are on their way, and others haven’t gone to bed. The ones, like me, who were sleeping, are trying to make sure they’re at their best tomorrow morning for school. After all, there’s no other way I’ll get accepted into college otherwise.

The biggest obstacle in achieving my dream is my dad, who I currently am on the way to pick up. I can only assume that Mr. Prescott isn’t there tonight because he usually drags my dad home, leaving him passed out on his bed. In the morning hours, I’ll peek in to make sure he’s sprawled out in his usual spot on top of his covers in his underwear. Yeah, not exactly a glamorous life I live.

Tonight, however, my dad’s recent sidekick, Nico, called, and asked if I could come get him because he was starting to become unruly and if he didn’t stop spouting off his mouth, he’d be in a heap of trouble with the big guy. This all leads to me driving our beat up Buick LaCrosse to an even shittier part of town than where we reside.

The usual cars line the street outside the ‘bakery’. You’d think the cops could figure this out, but most are paid-off to turn their eyes in another direction. Walking past the front entrance and detouring through the alley, my mouth sours when I spot Nico already waiting for me outside with his foot propped against the wall, taking a drag of his cigarette.

“Hey sweetheart,” he says, and my insides recoil with bile at his words. “Your dad is passed out in my car.” Unsure why he wouldn’t have met me along the street, or at least driven my dad home, brings an uneasiness over me. Nico is one of the younger ones, the rising stars trying to make a name for themselves within the small group of fuck-ups. That’s why my dad is currently attached to his hip; he’s always trying to get ahead of someone else. The old belief, find new blood and ‘blessings’ will come your way. My dad seeks them out and attaches himself like Velcro.

“Okay,” I say, beginning the walk down the dark and dingy alleyway.