Page 87 of Scoring Chance
“What else? Drinking? Drugs?”
He stares down at the ground and nods again. “I’m sorry.”
“Why did you agree to this?”
“I thought…maybe if we spent more time together, she might actually want to be my girlfriend.”
Matthias crumples, a bigger hunch in his back as he comes to the sad realization that he and Lena won’t be happening. My heart goes out to him.
“Where is she tonight?”
“I can find out,” he says. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do anything wrong.”
Said anyone who’s ever been in a fake relationship.
I run a hand over my face, sighing heavily. “Okay,” I say finally, my voice firm. “Thank you for telling me. If I find out you’re lying, or that you’re part of the rough crowd? We’re gonna have a problem.”
He holds up his hands. “No problem. I’m the most boring guy you’ll ever meet.”
I almost smile. Almost.
I text Tanner that I had to leave. Work emergency. I Uber back to the house, get my car, and drive to a woodsy area on the edge of town. I march down a muddy trail, destroying my new sneakers, until I reach a clearing.
I spot her through the haze of cigarette smoke and the glow of someone’s car headlights. Lena, perched on the hood of a beat-up sedan, surrounded by kids who are all at least two or three years older than her. The kind of kids with too much eyeliner, torn jackets, and the simmering energy of people looking for trouble.
It’s not like I belong here either. I stick out—pressed shirt, nice jeans, the faint lingering scent of fried carnival food still clinging to me.
She looks so much younger out here than she does when she’s rolling her eyes at me across the dinner table. Her legs swinging off the car. Her hoodie sleeves pulled down over her hands.
I step closer, my shoes crunching over gravel.
One of the older guys notices me first—skinny, wiry, with a vape pen in his mouth, a beer bottle dangling from his fingers, and a look that says I’m not welcome.
“Lost, old man?” he sneers.
Lena’s head snaps up at that. Her eyes go wide. “Des?”
The whole group quiets. They watch us like it’s a showdown.
“What are you doing here?” She turns red, an avalanche of embarrassment. I get that. I’d feel the same if my parents showed up at a party to drag me home. But now that I’m on the other side, I don’t care.
“I could ask you the same thing,” I say evenly. “But let’s not do this in front of your…friends.”
The group mutters among themselves, amused. One of the girls giggles, her hand curled around a bottle of pills.
“We’re just having a good time, old man,” the wiry guy says, his eyes glassy. I doubt it’s just tobacco in his vape.
“Do you know what one of the benefits of being an old man is? Having other adult friends. Like my good friend, the chief of police. Should I call him and ask if he wants to join?”
The wiry guy backs away, hands up. “Narc,” he mutters.
Yeah, I am. And again, as an adult, I don’t care. Being in your forties means everything aches, but it also means I don’t give a fuck if some pissant teenagers think I’m uncool.
“Why don’t you guys get the hell out of here,” I tell them.
Lena slides off the car.
“You’re joining the narc, Lena? Forget him.” Wiry guy grabs her ass to pull her back, spiking a bout of rage in me I didn’t know I was capable of feeling.
