A shiver races through me.

We’re not picking the girls up from Jennifer Lowell’s house until the morning.

That means … I’m going to be alone with Vic and Aaron, the two boys in Havoc that are the furthest apart, the most at odds. I’m also going to be operating under a whole new set of rules. Havoc Girl. I get to define what that means between me and each boy the same way they define their relationships with each other. Essentially, we’re a family where each pair of people decides how they want to behave together.

“Let’s do it,” Aaron says, turning to head toward the Bronco and then pausing like he’s just thought of something. He glances back at us, and Victor raises his eyebrows.

“Yeah? You want something?” he queries, his voice mild but laced with an edge of irritation underneath. He might’ve given his okay to the rest of us, but he’s not happy about it.

“Bernadette can ride with me tonight.” Aaron doesn’t waver in his statement nor does he ask; his words are not a request.

“Mm, okay, so,” Victor starts, lighting up a cigarette. Either he’s nervous, or he just likes a good smoke after a drive-by. No big deal. I don’t even consider the fact that Callum likely killed the guy he shot. My boys in black, I feel like they’re untouchable. “When I said you fuckers could work on your own shit, I didn’t mean you could boss me around. I’m still in charge, Fadler.” Vic nods at me with his chin. “Bernie can choose what she wants to do: ride on my bike or carpool with you.”

I stand there for a minute, feeling like my body is being pulled apart by two powerful magnets, one on each side, desperate for a piece.

My initial reaction is to flip a coin and let fate decide.

But I’ve got to be more than some limp-ass, dangling ball sack that crumples to pieces at a simple flick of a finger.

Since I rode here with Vic, and I want to know why Aaron’s staring at me the way he is, I make the decision and decide that I’m going to stick with it. No matter what.

“I’ll ride in the Bronco and we’ll meet you there?” I ask, and even though Vic keeps smoking his cigarette and acts like he doesn’t care, his shoulders stiffen up.

“Yep.” He flicks his smoke aside as I follow Aaron to the car.

“I have to say,” Aaron tells me as I climb in and shut the door behind me, my eyes flicking back to Victor and his motorcycle only once before my attention lands on Aaron and stays there. “You surprised the shit out of me, Bernie.” Aaron pulls his sweatshirt over his head and accidentally takes his shirt along for the ride.

I see full belly and chest and ink, all at once.

Aaron’s chest piece is of a girl and a boy kissing in the rain, a see-through umbrella above their heads that shows off the stormy sky. There are even holes in the umbrella, leaving the couple to be soaked by the storm.

Son of a bitch.

I close my eyes for a minute, and then force them open as Aaron tosses his hoodie into the backseat and pulls his tee back on.

“Surprised in a good way, I hope?” I ask as he starts the car and turns on the heater.

The way he looks over at me, with wavy chestnut hair falling over his forehead, the gold in his eyes blazing in the starlight, I feel a pitter-patter in my chest that makes me gasp.

“In a phenomenal way,” he assures me, looking over his shoulder before he pulls out of the garage drive. Aaron flicks the brights on as we head down the dark street in the direction of the drive-in, the one on the Prescott side of the tracks that serves the best food. It’s called Wesley’s, after the owner’s son. Rumor has it that the kid was killed on the Prescott High campus during his senior year. Of course, this was over twenty years ago, but I know how grief works. Time does not ‘heal all wounds’. That’s a load of shit. The only thing time does is extend the length of time between breakdowns.

I still can’t look at a frozen waffle without thinking about Penelope. Legit, the last time I saw someone eating one on a commercial, I broke down into violent sobs. That is how grief works. So even if ‘Wesley’ has been dead for decades, I bet his parents still have moments where they can’t breathe, where they wonder if it’s worth it to keep going or if it’s better to give up.

I look over at Aaron, studying his classically good looks. He’s timeless, Aaron is. He would be attractive in any decade. My mouth twitches slightly, and I look down at my lap.

It’s just me and him in here, with “Flowers on the Grave” by the Maine playing softly in the background. It’s kind of a sad song, about saying goodbye to the child you used to be.

After about a minute and a half of listening to it, I feel like it’s wormed its way into my soul and my eyes prick with tears. I very quickly reach up and skip to another track.

“Are you okay?” Aaron asks, glancing over at me for a minute. It seems odd, that it’s just me and him right now. Just thinking about spending some time alone together makes my pulse race. Victor … just gave us the go-ahead today. It seems impossible, knowing what I know about him, but then, I knew he could do it. I knew he would do it.

He can’t deny any of us the right to get to know each other.

How did Oscar phrase it?

“Bernadette is a member of Havoc; Hael is a member of Havoc. These things are signed and sealed in blood; they cannot be undone.”

That applies to any member of this group—even Victor. He created Havoc; he told us the one currency you can carry is truth. So I am a Havoc Girl, and he must share. My body breaks out in goose bumps, and I cross my arms over my chest as my eyes squeeze shut.

“I’m okay,” I tell Aaron, before he starts to think I’m having a breakdown. “And don’t worry: I’m not upset by the drive-by. Well, not anymore upset than a person with a soul should be after shooting someone.”

Regardless of how I feel, we had to make a stand; the Charter Crew can either submit and fall in line or … Well, look at Danny Ensbrook.

“What is it then?” Aaron asks, pulling into the drive-in burger place and surprising me by ordering us two chocolate shakes and some burgers. He smiles at me when I give him a look. “What? Even gangbangers need to eat,” he says as he puts the Bronco in park. Looks like it might be a while. I vaguely recognize some of the other cars parked in the rows alongside us, vintage beauties that I can almost guarantee belong to Prescott High kids. I have plenty of time to study them, since this is a proper drive-in. On Friday and Saturday nights, the employees even wear roller-skates to bring out the food.

“This is just … it feels like a date,” I say, even though Aaron and I have been on plenty before. Still, it’s as if the clock on our relationship has reset; everything feels new and different.

He rolls down all the windows and shuts off the engine, cranking the music just a bit higher before he nods at the dash in front of me.

“There are some joints in there,” Aaron says, and I open it to find several of them in a plastic baggy. “That’s our own strain, Havoc at Prescott High.” He flashes me a self-assured smirk as I open the bag and breathe in the scent. Swear to god, it smells like the hallways of that school on a Monday morning, like a pungent mix of cigarette smoke, cheap perfume, and freshly sharpened pencils.

Even though I hate that school, and I hate this town, there’s something about the smell that makes me feel like I’m right where I’m meant to be.

“I did not fucking know you guys had your own strain, but why am I not surprised by it either?” I ask, putting a joint between my purple-painted lips. My lipstick choice of the day is called Her Beautiful Decay, and it’s a lovely aubergine shade with a bit of sparkle. It taints the beautiful white paper of the joint as Aaron leans over and flicks the wheel on his lighter, igniting the end and filling the car with sweet, white smoke.

Our faces are so close, and his eyes are so intense. With the flame of the lighter still flickering, I can see every variation of color in his irises, from the flecks of metallic gold to the gentle flush of evergreen. My breath catches, and I forget to inhale.

“Bernie, you have to breathe, or it won’t stay lit,” he whispers, even though he knows that I know that. I inhale sharply and he draws back, letting the flame die out on the lighter. Where the flame does not die out, however, is inside of this car. “You know, I’m really glad Victor stopped with his shit today. I want everything to work out for you, for him, for Havoc.” Aaron stops and looks away, toward the car next to us and its fogged windows.

It’s no secret that students come here to eat first, and then fuck later.

The owners of the drive-in are from South Prescott, so they’re well-aware of how things work around here.

Aaron turns back to me, and there’s something different about his face. There’s no less kindness or affection in it, but there is an intensity that I feel like he was holding back before. It’s in his gaze when he looks at me, cutting through the bullshit and stabbing me through the heart like an arrow. Once again, I forget to breathe, and the joint goes out.

Neither of us says a word as he flicks the wheel on the lighter again and leans forward. This time, though, he doesn’t manage to even touch the flame to the joint. Instead, his tattooed right hand finds the back of my neck, and he pulls me forward, forcing me to meet his mouth if I want the privilege of kissing him.

This is the Aaron that I saw on homecoming night, the one that I fucked even though I knew I shouldn’t.

“All I want is to be selfish,” Aaron murmurs, which is very nearly the opposite of what Hael told me. “All I want is for you and me to just cut and run from here, so we can be together, and fuck the rest of the world.” I try to turn away, but Aaron won’t let me. He keeps me there, our mouths pressed close but not quite kissing, not yet. He holds it over me, making me want it even more. “Let’s be selfish tonight, just me and you, Bern. Let’s pretend.”

“We don’t have to pretend, Aaron,” I whisper back, closing my eyes tight and trying to keep my shit together.