After school, I head out to the football field, as usual. I can't wait until I have my own car. Then I won't have to wait for my dad to finish coaching practice before I can go home. Though, I don't necessarily dislike watching the football practices entirely. It's nice to see my father doing something that makes him happy; nice to see his smile again.

If I really wanted to, I suppose I could always get a ride home from Lana or Lucas, but deep down I know that my dad wouldn't go for that. He would rather me wait for him to take me home, as that way he knows I am safe. In a way, I guess I would rather wait for him, too. It's nice spending time with him, growing closer after all that has tried to tear us apart.

I'm walking toward the field and minding my own business when, all of a sudden, Jack appears. He takes my side as we walk, as if I actually want him to join me.

"Can I help you?" I snap, wondering what he wants this time. I've come to know that with Jack, there is always a catch.

"Just walking," Jack answers casually, smiling at me faintly. "Why? Is there something I can help you with?" I don't like the suggestiveness to his tone, how cocky his smile has grown as he glances down at me, those light green eyes of his gleaming mischievously.

I roll my eyes, wondering how someone with a girlfriend can be so annoyingly flirty. "Thanks for the offer." I lift my gaze to his and glare at him as I add, "But no thanks."

"Are you always so mean to people?" Jack asks with a chuckle, raising his eyebrows as he glances down at me, that devilish gleam still shining in his irises. "Or is it just me?"

"You're not as special as you think you are, Crawford." Despite my words, I can't help but smile when he looks at me. I don't know what's wrong with me, but when I look into his light green eyes, I swear I've never seen anything prettier. Jack's eyes are such a light shade of green, so easy to get lost in, it's almost like I'm—

Snap out of it, Morgan! I chide myself, forcing my gaze away from Jack's, hoping he doesn't notice how furiously I'm blushing.

"So, you're just mean in general?" Jack questions with mock curiosity, furrowing his brows. "I don't think I believe that."

I bite back my grin, wondering why I haven't yelled at him to get lost yet. "You're right," I mutter, glancing up at Jack with a sickly-sweet smile as I finish, "It's just you."

Jack merely smirks back at me, unbothered. "I knew I was special."

"Right. Because normally I don't hate people as soon as I lay eyes on them. I guess that does make you a special case."

"Aw, you hate me, Scott? At least I know you think of me."

I roll my eyes at this, shoving Jack's arm in mock annoyance. Jack only laughs as he gazes down at me, my shove not moving him an inch. Jack's expression is teasing, letting me know that we're not done with this conversation yet. Great.

"Really, Scott?" Jack asks after I shove him, grinning from ear to ear like this interaction is so funny. "Is that all you've got?"

"You want me to hurt you?" I remark, shooting him a you must be crazy glance.

"I don't think you could, Scott." Jack says the words like a dare, just asking to get slapped in the face. Unlike what Jack here thinks, I totally will do it. I'm not past slapping people in the face, especially when it comes to Jack Crawford.

"Oh," I murmur, looking up at Jack smugly. "I'm pretty sure I could."

"Go ahead," Jack edges. The smirk on his face only adds to my annoyance, and his attractiveness. I curse myself for thinking that, though I can't deny the undeniable. "Look, I'll even stand still. Make it easier for you."

"Would you cut it out, Crawford?" I snap, glaring at him as my annoyance rises to an all time high. "Or else I really will slap you."

Jack merely laughs at my threat to the point where he's doubled over. I seriously don't think it's that funny, but Jack Crawford seems to have added bothering me to his list of life goals. I stand in front of Jack, watching him with my arms crossed, waiting for him to stop laughing like he's been given nitrous oxide and is now unbearably loopy. When he doesn't stop after a minute has passed, I find that I really do want to slap him.

So I do.

I raise my hand from my side and send it flying toward his face. I don't know what I'm expecting, since Jack isn't even facing me. Just as my hand is about to make contact with his cheek, Jack grabs my wrist, holding it away from his face yet within his grasp. I can't help but stare, wide-eyed, as Jack stands up straight, suddenly not laughing anymore.

"I knew you couldn't," is all Jack says. His smirk is so wide, I itch to slap it off of him, but he's still got my wrist captured in his grip. I don't know my skin within his touch is burning, or why I don't jerk away from his hold right about now. I could, if I wasn't so lost in his beautiful green eyes, that is.

Did I seriously just think that? Snap. Out. Of. It!

I honestly have no clue what's gotten into me.

"My dad is the coach," I blurt, wanting this to be over. I don't want to be anywhere near Jack Crawford. I want to get away from him as quickly as possible so I can get myself together and figure out why my skin sparks with electricity at his touch and why I can't stop thinking about his goddamn green eyes.  "If you don't let go of me, I'll scream for him at the top of my lungs."

Jack laughs at my words, though he does release my wrist. And even though I'm now free to run off as I please, I find that my feet remain firmly planted where I am, as if they have a mind of their own. My mind tells me to get away from Jack right now, because it's not like I'm enjoying his company. But my body must like something about the way it felt to have him touch me, or how his laugh makes my heart race, because I don't think I could move right now if I tried.

"Why do I doubt that you would actually do that?" Jack teases, testing me. Once again, he's smirking at me as if he's all that, a look that suits him yet infuriates me all at the same time. I want to wipe that smug look off of his face, to prove to him that I'm a force to be reckoned with from time to time.

So I do.

"DAD!" I yell at the top of my lungs, watching as Jack's features morph from a smug little smile to an expression of pure terror.

"Okay, okay," Jack murmurs, his gaze shifting to the football field as if he's looking to see if my dad heard my cry. "I get it."

I smile sweetly at him, batting my eyelashes. "You should always take me seriously, Jack," I retort, my smile widening. "Or next time my dad will hear me."

Jack smiles, but I notice that he looks a little nervous. He doesn't seem to be enjoying getting on my nerves as much as he did moments earlier. I take this as a sign that I've finally gotten through to him, wondering if this means he'll stop doubting me from here on out.

"Noted," Jack mumbles before running off and joining his team on the football field, not looking back at me once.

I smile as I watch him go, feeling satisfied with myself. Somehow, I know I've put him in his place.

And it feels good.

• • •

"Dad?" I wait for my dad to look up from his breakfast before continuing. I'm about to ask him a question I'm almost positive he's going to say no to, but there's always a chance that I'm wrong. It's that slight chance that I could be wrong that gives me the courage to wait for his response, my question on the tip of my tongue as I do so.

Dad finally looks up at me from across the table, raising his eyebrows to indicate for me to go on as our gazes lock.

"I was wondering," I start slowly, setting my fork down on my plate with ease. "If . . . maybe . . . I could start driving?" Dad's expression hardens with the question, so I immediately rush to add, "I know that you're on edge about me driving after . . . everything . . . but, Dad, I'm getting so sick of staying after school for practice. It's nothing against you, it's just that I have homework, and—"

Dad raises a hand, signaling for me to quit rambling. I stop short, crossing my fingers under the table and praying that he'll say yes. I am seventeen, after all. I should at least be able to drive a car.

"Morgan," Dad mutters, shaking his head in thought. Disappointment surges through me, and I have to remind myself that—after everything we've been through—I shouldn't test him. It'd just be cruel. If Dad says no, the answer is no. There's always next year, I suppose.

"I was actually thinking the same thing," Dad finishes, shocking me thoroughly. His expression softens as he adds, "Practices can run long, and I know you need time to do homework and other things, so I've been thinking about letting you drive for a while now." Dad pauses, a grin breaking out on his lips. "You have perfect timing, kiddo."

"What?" I ask, confused. What is he talking about? He's not being serious right now, is he? I mean, every other time I've asked Dad about driving, the answer has always remained a constant no. What would make him change his mind all of a sudden?

"You haven't been outside yet, have you?" Dad questions, eyes sparkling as they meet my own.

My jaw drops, and I find that I can't speak. There is no way he bought me a car. I refuse to believe it. This isn't happening. It's not.

"Well," Dad says, gesturing to the front door, expression one of excitement. "Don't just sit there. Go check it out!"

I jump up from my chair and race to the front door, throwing it open to find that there really is a car in the driveway. I rush out of the door, my hands cupping over my lips in disbelief. I can't believe this. Two years ago, I saw the exact car parked in front of me in a lot and told Dad that it was my dream car. Looking at it now, it really does feel like a dream come true.

The car is a white Ford Mustang, and it looks even better when it's sitting in my driveway than it did sitting in the lot.

"You remembered?" I ask in a whisper, whirling on my dad. I want to cry in joy, but I'm too excited to produce any tears.

Dad nods, smiling proudly. "How could I forget? You had your eye on that car for years."

"Dad." My voice cracks on the word, and I know tears are on their way no matter how excited I am. "You shouldn't have."

"Yes, I should have." Dad rests a hand on my shoulder, blinking back tears of his own as he shoots me a faltering smile. "You deserve this, kiddo. You deserve the world, after everything this world has put you through."

Don't cry, I tell myself. Don't cry.

"You better get going," Dad mumbles with a smile as he sets the key to my brand new car in my hand. "You don't want to be late to school."

✧ ✧ ✧

a/n: hi. if you're reading this, i'm incredibly grateful for you (: also, i want to know if any of you guys have heard ariana grande's new album? if you have, leave a comment with your favorite song. i'm trying to pick one, but they're all so good i'm having a hard time. so far, i really like break up with your girlfriend, i'm bored and NASA.