We walked toward his car—a sleek black pickup truck that looked like it had been through miles of rough roads, yet still gleamed under the flickering lights from the burger joint. He dropped the tailgate with a soft clunk and set the paper bag down. Then, without a word, he turned to me and held out his right hand.
A silent gesture. An offer.
I hesitated.
Why was I smiling? Why did this feel… natural?
I shook my head, trying to rid myself of the strange warmth pooling in my chest. Then, cautiously, I placed my hand in his and climbed up, hopping into the back of the truck like it was something I'd done before.
He sat beside me, legs dangling over the edge, the brown paper bag between us. The air was cool, carrying the scent of fried food and distant exhaust. But it was oddly quiet here—too quiet for the edge of a city. Like the world had hit pause.
"I have one burger. Half-half?" he said, holding up the foil-wrapped sandwich like a peace offering.
"You sure?"
Before the words even fully left my mouth, he was already splitting it in two, handing me my half without hesitation. Our eyes met.
Blue.
The exact same kind of blue that made me think of Marco when he was angry—or Andreis when he was lost in thought.
I blinked, pretending I didn't notice.
The burger was warm and messy and perfect. It tasted like freedom and bad decisions.
"You said you knew me," I said between bites. "How?"
He smiled, shook his head as he chewed, and said, "I don't. I just said that so you'd come with me."
Without thinking, I smacked his arm. Lightly. Instinctively.
"Oh my god—I'm sorry," I said, flustered, biting into the burger again to avoid more eye contact.
He laughed softly, like he was amused by something more than just the moment.
"You just looked… kinda lost," he said, handing me a canned soft drink. "Where were you headed?"
"Wherever my feet take me."
I finished the burger too fast. My stomach was full, but not heavy. I tried to ignore the fact that I probably looked like I hadn't eaten in days.
"You shouldn't be out here alone," he said. "Some people might take advantage."
I jumped down from the truck, brushing crumbs from my hands. "I know."
I tilted my head, looking up at him. "What about you? Where are you headed?"
But before he could answer, his phone rang.
He turned away slightly as he answered, and I gave him space—staring at the cracked pavement, pretending I wasn't listening.
"Yeah. I know. I'll tell you later," he said quietly. "Don't worry. I know where she is."
She.
My stomach twisted. A girlfriend? A wife? A sister?
Was I ruining something?
"I—I'm sorry. That was my friend," he said as he hung up, too quickly. "What were we talking about again?"
I narrowed my eyes. "I don't remember." Then I smiled, stepping back. "Anyway… thanks for the food. I appreciate it. Nice meeting you, Angelo."
I reached out my hand to shake his. He took it—but didn't let go as he jumped down beside me.
"Where are you going?" he asked. "I'll go with you."
My hand was still in his. Warm. Firm. Familiar.
"No, it's fine. I can manage alone."
I pulled away gently. His eyes followed me—not just with curiosity, but like he was memorizing me.
Those eyes.
Something about them made my heart skip. I couldn't explain it. Like I had seen them before—in a different face. In a different form.
I was already walking back to the car when he called out:
"What if we do this instead? I'll stay in my car. Wherever you go, I'll follow. I won't bother you unless you want company. I just… want to make sure you're not alone."
I stopped in my tracks.
It sounded strange. But not threatening. Just… there was something in his voice. Something that felt like protection. Or maybe guilt.
I stared ahead. I thought about how I didn't know the roads. I thought about the gun in Mom's glove compartment. I thought about how Mom, Dad, and Marco probably knew I was gone by now.
But for the first time in forever, I didn't want to go back.
I turned slowly, walked to the car door, and looked at him over my shoulder.
"Deal!" I called out with a grin—and got in.
As I closed the door, I glanced once more at the rearview mirror. He hadn't moved.
But in that stillness… he didn't look like a stranger.
He looked like someone who'd been watching over me long before I ever ran away.