"Can you send a tow truck to Spruce Street?"

I hear murmuring on the other end of the line. Xavier gives a clipped nod and continues speaking into his phone.

"Yeah, there's a parking lot just across the street from Shell Shock. It's a silver corolla, the only one there. Get them to bring it back to..." Xavier looks at me, and I presume he's asking for my address. I ignore him, as always.

"Our house. Tell them to bring it back to our house." He pauses. "No, it's perfectly fine. Doesn't need fixing, she's just too lazy to drive it."

I gape up at him, watching him silently chuckle behind the phone. "Alright. Bye." He hangs up, throws his phone in the back seat, then looks up at the windshield.

It's around 8p.m., and the car ride is painful. I can feel the lingering tension between Xavier and I.

If he had just let me go in my own car, maybe I wouldn't have threatened to expose his little secret of being some street fighter named "Foster Prince". Maybe if he hadn't threatened me, I wouldn't be here and this wouldn't be torture for the both of us.

"Gosh, Flores. This is the second time today I'm giving you a ride in my car. You know what that means."

"That I get to staple your mouth shut when we get home?" I insist.

"Not quite." His hands, still wrapped in a thick layer of bandages, tightly grip the top of the leather steering wheel. "It means you now owe me two favors, as apposed to one."

"Since when have I ever owed you anything?" I ask him with more bite in my tone than I realize.

His jaw muscles clench to hold back a response. I slump back in my chair and sink into the cushion, taking surprising comfort in the leather seat.

We both sit there in silence. I notice we're doing that a lot lately, sitting close to each other without saying a word.

I went to work tonight hoping to earn a couple more extra bucks, only to find out that the winner of tonight's Nightfall Knockout is none other than Mr. Rough-Tough-and-Totally-Buff Xavier.

I try and put these silent minutes to good use, counting the cars that pass us one by one. I pretend they're shooting stars, wishing with each set of headlights that I could somehow magically teleport myself back into my bed and sleep this traumatizing night away.

Soon, we're turning into a neighborhood just off of the country side. Enormous houses line the streets yard to yard, yet they're all separated from each other by towering cypress trees.

I spot a wide and colorful Californian bungalow, and I catch a glimpse of an Elizabethan home built with aged gray stones. My eyes go wide when we head through two open gates leading to a gravel driveway.

"Huh, he pulled through," Xavier mumbles, pinning his eyes on another car parked on the gravel driveway.

I spot my father's silver corolla, the lustred surface glistening in the beam of headlights.

"We're here," Xavier grunts, getting out of the car and slamming the door closed. I do the same, keeping my arms crossed and heading straight for the corolla. I can almost feel the smoke rising from my shoulders, but I beg it to stay calm.

It's over now, I should be thankful I'm finally out of the car and away from that vile boy.

"Wait," Xavier starts, making his way towards my car. "You're not telling anyone about Foster, got it?"

I run my tongue in between both my lips to silence a scold. His eyes find their way to my mouth and they narrow into tiny slits.

"Don't do that," he demands.

"Do what?"

"That." He points at me while I bite my lip and I let it go in an instant, feeling my cheeks catch on fire.

He looks at me for a moment, then says, "You won't tell anyone about Foster."

I scowl at him but give him the slightest nod. I heard him before: if I tell anyone about his "secret identity", he'll tell everyone about my job. It's as simple as that.

"What about me, huh?" I ask. "How do I know you're not just gonna tell everyone about my job?"

"You don't." He leers at me, and I offer him a grimace filled with irritation. This boy... this boy! He is getting on every one of my nerves, and I hate it.

Fine. If he's going to play games, then I'm going to win them. "Okay. You don't want me telling anyone about Foster? Done. Since I'm the only other person who knows about your dirty little secret, I have the power to decide whether to keep it or not." I smirk at him, then say, "I've chosen to keep it, and so now, you owe me a favor."

He looks at me, his eyebrows furrowed and his fists balled at his sides. His nostrils flare, sending wafts of infuriating smoke from his nose. He looks like a bomb that's just about to go off, and I stare in triumph at his angered reaction.

"You'll owe me that favor, and I'll expect full delivery. No question."

And then I walk away from him towards my dad's car without another word.

__

I park my dad's car in our driveway, noticing my mom's car resting at the curb in front of our lawn.

My eyes go wide when I notice the time on my watch. 9:30, an hour-and-half after they get home. They must be inside right now, waiting for me to come back from work.

Wait! I still have my work clothes on. Oh no.

I climb over my seat to look in the back for any possible things I can wear to cover up my dress an tights. Rummaging through the back seat, I spot a large gray trench coat piled on the leather chair, and quickly put it on before getting out of the car and locking it behind me.

When I get inside the house, both my parents are waiting at the front door.

"Hello," I whisper.

They don't say a thing, and I spot my mother's foot impatiently tapping the floor.

"Have you forgotten something?" my father says. At the same moment, my brother's head pops up behind the sitting-room couch, looking at all of us intently before going back to playing with little toy cars.

"Braedyn! I totally forgot," I say. "I'm so, so sorry. I missed my bus today. My friend dropped me off at Sosa's, and I went to—"

"How could you forget to pick your brother up from school?" Mom scolds. "I had to leave work early to pick him up!"

"I know, I'm really sorry. I was running late for work. I didn't mean to—I'm sorry. Look, I'll do anything to make it up to you. I promise."

"Don't make it up to us," she shouts. "Make it up to him!"

My father looks back at my brother, then at me. His eyes narrow when he spots my shoes.
"Why are you wearing heels?" he asks, pointing to my feet. My mother's eyes widen at the sight of my stilettos, and I can feel all the color drain from my face instantly.

"I, uh, couldn't find my running shoes," I lie. "They offered me sneakers there, and I gave them back when they let me leave early."

They glare at me, anger in the form of smoke shooting from their ears.
"We're very disappointed in you young lady," my father states.

"I don't know what's gotten you all riled up about this job," my mother chimes in. "Most teenagers aren't that serious about working at a fast-food restaurant."

I give her a sad smile but she waves me off and walks towards the kitchen, letting out a soft yawn while her slippers slide on the floor. My father stays there with his arms crossed, giving me a dissatisfied glare before following my mother. "You better apologize to your brother."

I step out of my heels and teach the living room. Braedyn is sitting on the floor beside the couch driving his tiny police car over the arm of the chair. He's preoccupied with his toys at the moment, but I sit beside him anyways and watch him run wild with his imagination

"Hey there, buddy," I say.

"Hi," Braedyn says, still focused on his toys.

"I'm sorry I forgot to pick you up today," I say. "I missed my bus. I was running late for work." I use my hand to comb a strange of shaggy hair from his eyes.

"It's okay," he says, brushing off my mistake.

"No, it's not. I won't do it again. I promise"

He looks up at me and beams, I spot a smile on his face, and I notice one of the gaps near his front teeth have begun to sprout a new tooth. One of his adult teeth are growing in.

I play with him for a couple minutes before walking back upstairs and putting my heels back in my closet, taking off the trench coat and hanging it on my bedroom door.

My parents could've found out right then and there where I work and what I do. I can't help but think how devastated they'd be if they ever knew.

I don't usually bring my phone to Shell Shock, and when I notice it lighting up with a few notifications on the screen, I walk over to my desk and check it out. I have texts from Megan all over the place saying,

We won! Juniors 25-15, and seniors 28-13! Samuel was amazing. U should've seen him on the field!!!

I smile, then continue to scroll down and notice a sudden missed call from Arden. I click on her voice mail and wait for her to speak, pacing my room from one end to the other.

"Hey D! Just callin' to say we won Friday Night Lights!" I can hear distant cheers in the background and smile. "I saw Jacob play on the field. He's so good, and oh! He kissed me right after! Totally wish you were here, you would've liked it for sure."

I hear Ella's voice clash with Arden's. It's faint, but I can still pick it up.

"Tell her about the party!" she says.

"Oh yeah! D, Logan Hill is throwing a party at his place tomorrow night to celebrate. You should totally come, we'll both be there!" More cheers, more screaming. "Logan personally wanted to invite you by the way. In case you were wondering."

My heart does flips inside my chest and my cheeks heat with... happiness? Yes, definitely happiness.

Logan Hill is one of the best senior football players on the team. Not to mention popular for all the right reasons. Handsome for sure, with eyes a beautiful shade of grey and hair a shiny platinum blonde.

He's kind, he's smart, and he's been my crush since ninth grade.

"Anyways, the party's starting at nine tomorrow night. Call me when you can!" And just like that she ends the voicemail, and the room fills with a sudden silence.

I can't help but smile; waves of joy warming me from the inside out, and I collapse on the bed, shaking my legs and laughing out loud at the thought that Logan Hill, the popular jock and striking gentleman, personally invited me to his house for a party.

I change out of my outfit, stuffing the dress and the tights into the drawer under my bed. I take a shower, brush my teeth then put on my pajamas, stupidly grinning the entire time I get ready for sleep.

Suddenly, a chime sounds from my cellphone on my bedroom desk and I spot a text notification light up the screen. Curious, I take a peek at my phone, expecting a message from Megan or Arden, possibly giving more details on the party?

Picking u up @ ur house tmrrw. Be ready. 9pm sharp.

I gawk at my phone screen, rubbing a strand of my hair in between my fingers. I have no idea who this person is, so I just assume they've mistaken my caller ID for someone else's. I slide up my messages and type back a quick reply.

Um... I think u have the wrong #

I click send, and not a minute later, I receive another text. This one I can't seem to ignore.

What makes u think that, Road Runner? hey ;)

Xavier-Lawrence Fucking Parker!

But, wait... how did he get my number? How does he know where I live?

Xavier??? Who gave u my ##?

I'm absolutely itching to the bone with frustration. I'm angry at him for texting me, but I'm even more angry at whoever gave the prick my personal info.

I wait for him to send me another text and to tell me the truth straight up, but he leaves me hanging for a good ten minutes, reading my message but failing to reply. I look back at our little conversation and burn anew with rage and defeat.

I read over our chat, noticing he'd said he was going to pick me up at my house tomorrow at 9p.m. Tomorrow is Saturday, but tomorrow is also Logan Hill's party and that, too, starts at 9p.m.

Come on. Any idiotic girl would ditch a party that Logan Hill personally invited her to in order to spend time with Xavier, probably messing around in some random stranger's backyard before he decided to leave her for another unlucky girl. With that, I growl under my breath and proceed to call back Arden, vigorously typing her number on my phone.

"D? Hey! What's up?"

"Hey Ash. Um, glad you had fun at the game," I tell her, trying hard not to unleash the red monster within me.

"Thanks! Totally wish you were there though. There was a nasty fight between two of the players. Long story short, on of 'em broke an arm. Wasn't our guy though!" She sounds... happy that someone got hurt. I wince, thinking of the fight I had just witnessed a couple hours ago, still feeling a hint of bile swirl in my stomach.

"Oh wow," is all I manage to say.

"I know, it was really bad. Paramedics came in, took the boy to the hospital on a gurney—"

"So, listen. Y'know that party coming up? At Logan's place tomorrow night?"

She doesn't seem bothered that I interrupted her. Instead she says, "Yeah, what about it?"

Do I tell her that Xavier texted me? I mean, she told me she had the hots for Parker, but that was a while ago. Plus, she's into Jacob now, and he kissed her at the game, so hopefully she won't mind.

But then again, I mind. I mind a lot. Who is he to text me like that, just telling me he's going to pick me up from my house when I doubt he even knows where it is?

"I'm going," I tell her, not a moment of hesitation in my voice. "I'm going to the party."

"Really? Great! Want me to come by your place to pick you up?" she asks.

"No, it's alright. I'll take my dad's car, I can come pick you up. That okay?"

"Totally fine with me."

I smile. "Alright, cool. See you tomorrow." I'm the first one to hang up. I don't realize it, but I let out a heavy breath, relieving myself of stress I didn't even know was there.

I tell myself I am going to that party. I tell myself I'm going to enjoy it without having to worry about Xavier's dirty little secret. I tell myself I'm going to let loose, have fun, and ignore everything that just happened with me and that obnoxious teenage boy.

But a tiny voice at the back of my mind screams at me to watch out. I know his secret, but he also knows mine.