I stilled, not sure what to do, but I could feel every muscle in his body flex as he held me and took deep breaths.

And slowly, I closed my eyes, every ounce of fight draining out of me, feeling his embrace.

It had been so long since I felt this. My grandmother was hardly lucid enough to hug me much anymore.

My arms itched, wanting to touch him. God, I wanted to hold him.

But before I could work up the courage to pull away or hug him back, he whispered, “I’m not like that.” And he pulled up, staring down at me almost nose to nose. “And I’ll see you on the bus tomorrow night, Emory Scott.”

He released me and swam for the edge, leaving me cold in the pool.

What?

The air chilled, and I watched as he pulled himself up the ladder, and I spun around just in time, giving him my back as his naked body exited the pool.

Shit.

Unable to help myself, I surrendered to the pull and glanced over my shoulder.

But it was too late. He was fastening a towel around his waist, the cords and muscles in his back intimidating and everything about him was perfect. Without sparing me another glance, he opened the men’s locker room door and disappeared inside.

Ugh. What was he doing? Why wouldn’t he just stop? I swam for the edge of the pool, picked up my shit without bothering to dry off, and stormed into the girls’ locker room.

Why couldn’t he just leave me alone? Didn’t guys like him want…something else? Or someone else?

He was getting to me. Making me think I was wrong about him or something. For years, he’d had this whole “what you see is what you get” vibe, and now he wanted to convince the world that we were wrong.

I didn’t need the trouble. I had much bigger problems than him, and I didn’t need this.

I dressed, stopped at my locker to grab my bag, and before I knew it, I was halfway home already, lost in my thoughts and replaying every frame with him in my head.

My throat swelled with a golf ball-size lump, and I couldn’t stop feeling his arms around me.

It was nice.

I didn’t want to want more. Everything I said about him was true. He was shallow, and he was using me. Bottom line. I couldn’t forget that.

There was a moment, though, when he held me, where he was me, and I was him, and we weren’t alone. It felt like I was supposed to be there.

I closed my eyes as I walked, tears wetting my lashes.

I was looking for meaning where there wasn’t any because I had nothing else. It wasn’t real, and he didn’t feel it, too. Remember that, Em. Don’t forget it. For a few seconds, I saw what I wanted to see.

Heading into the town square and up the small incline into the park, I gazed at my gazebo that I was building, the beams still wet from rain, but the smell intoxicating. I loved the smell of wood.

Circling the structure, I saw it was still in pristine condition, my foundation holding up and no vandalism so far.

Tires screeched on the street, and I looked over to see Sticks crowded with people and four black vehicles racing up to parking spots on the curb, Will’s truckbed loaded with people.

Tires peeled, smoke billowing into the air, and people shouted as car stereos blared.

“How’s it going?”

I looked over my shoulder, seeing Trevor Crist holding a football. He tossed it back to his buddy down on the sidewalk.

“Hey,” I muttered, looking back at Sticks.

Will climbed out of the driver’s side, grabbing the black T-shirt out of the back of his jeans and pulling it on as Damon came up behind him and appeared to be whispering something in his ear. I couldn’t see their faces.

People cleared the sidewalk as they crossed it, walking into Sticks.

“Look at it this way,” I heard Trevor say. “Once they graduate, Devil’s Night is dead. Thank-fucking-God, right?”

I turned to him. “Not going to carry on the family tradition?”

Trevor was three years behind his brother Michael. Plenty of time left in high school.

But he just scoffed. “You mean the once-a-year beef fest where my brother and his friends get the whole town to suck their cocks because they’re too stupid to remember how to be men the other three-hundred-sixty-four days of the year?” He shook his head. “No.”

I snorted. I may have misjudged him. The silver spoon in his mouth was salty.

“When everyone grows up and realizes they’re nothing,” he continued. “I’ll laugh and celebrate then. Or when they finally get arrested for all the dumb shit they pull.”

“Some brother you are.”

He shrugged, but I smiled a little. He might not be so bad, after all.

And I understood where he was coming from. I wouldn’t cry if my brother got into a little trouble.

In the distance, Will took out a cell phone as he stepped into the hangout, looking like he was filming a couple of the guys rough housing.

“That is true, though, isn’t it?” I thought out loud. “About the risk of getting arrested, I mean. They film everything with that phone. It’s pretty careless.”

Trevor followed my gaze, everyone knowing that the Horsemen recorded their escapades. There was proof of all the petty crimes and pranks they’d pulled.

“If anyone had half a mind to,” I went on, “there would be no way to ignore their behavior if someone shared those videos in the right place, you know? Can you imagine the embarrassment?”

The places they’d robbed? Vandalized? The underage girls—maybe guys, too—or hey, maybe there were even married women on that phone. The town would go crazy.

He was silent for a moment, and when I looked back at him, his gaze was still on the crowd in Sticks, but his expression was serious as the wheels in his head turned.

“They’re too comfortable in their surroundings, that’s for sure,” he added.

I nodded. “False sense of safety and all that.”

They took video—probably pictures, too—because they knew they were invincible. Even if anyone found it, would it amount to any more than a slap on the wrist and some very embarrassed parents?

Money solved all problems.

Trevor still stood there, gazing after them in the billiards hall.

“Learn a lesson from this,” I told him. “Don’t document your shit. The Internet lives forever. Got it.”

But I didn’t think he heard me as he absently nodded.

“See ya,” he said, finally turning away and heading back to his friend.

I gazed across the street, hearing the music from here and knowing I’d made the right decision. I wouldn’t belong in there with them. Could you imagine? Me? Like, having fun?

I’d be wondering what the point was the whole time. I couldn’t not be serious, and he was never serious.

Turning, I picked up my bag, but the flap flew open, and I spotted a packet of papers inside.

Pulling them out, I turned it over and saw “Lolita Study Guide” written on the front.

“Huh?” I mumbled. I’d looked everywhere for this! Including this bag, both of my lockers, my house, the garbage…

What the hell?

But as I looked over the packet, my name written at the top, I saw the questions already completed. All of them. Neat, block lettering in pencil.

I flipped through, inspecting every page and reading every answer, seeing that it was all completed, the answers impressive, even for me, although a couple of the responses kind of pissed me off.