Her smile was tight. “I’ll be fine,” she assured me, looking around at the darkness surrounding us.

   She shivered again.

   I pulled out my shirt, which I’d tucked into my shorts’ waistband, and handed it to her. “It’s probably wet—from my sweat—and it might smell a little funky, but you’ll be warmer.”

   Her face relaxed, and her lips curled up. “Thank you, Blake.”

   “You’re welcome, umm . . . ?”

   She paused, searching my face. “Abby.”

   “Abby.” I nodded in confirmation. “At least let me walk you wherever you need to go.”

   She seemed to hesitate before nodding slowly. “I need to find my purse and my phone.” She studied me for a moment. “I don’t suppose you’re hiding a phone anywhere on you I can use for light?”

   I looked down at my running shorts and sneakers. “No. But it’s in my car . . .” I pointed in the direction of the parking lot. “We can grab it and come back.”

   She cursed under her breath. “It’s okay. I don’t think we’ll be able to find our way back here. Not when it’s this dark. I’ll come back in the morning or something.”

   I smiled. Knowing that park as well as I did had its perks. “I know where we are. It’s fine.”

   Grimacing, she asked, “Are you sure? You’re not . . . on your way somewhere?”

   My laughter echoed through the still air. “Yes, Abby, I’m sure. Where would I be going dressed like this?”

   She smiled then. Amusement danced in her eyes. “I don’t know.” She shrugged. “To kill someone?”

   “What?” I asked, surprised at her sharp wit. I turned and began moving toward the lot.

   When she caught up to me, she continued. “Think about it. How many times do you hear on the news about dead bodies being found in parks? You know who always finds them? Joggers.”

   I turned to her, tilting my head slightly, trying to work out whether she was serious or not. She tried to hide her smile before adding, “It seems a little suspicious to me—you joggers always being first on the scene and all. My theory is that you’re all a bunch of murderers, and you get away with it, using the jogger clause. Makes me wonder if you have some underground club where you compare notes and brag about pulling off these murders.”

   I threw back my head and laughed. “That’s one amazing theory.”

   “Well,” she said, nudging my side with her elbow, “at least when you murder me, you’ll know that I was onto you, buddy.”

   “Yet, here you are—walking with me in pitch-black darkness, at two in the morning, to a more-than-likely abandoned parking lot, under the impression I’m going to get you back to your necessities. You’re not even slightly afraid of what might happen to you?” All joking aside, she had to be a little worried. Surely.

   The air around us turned thick. “No, Blake. I know I’m safe with you.”

   She said my name as if it had a different meaning.

   We walked the rest of the way to my car in silence.

CHAPTER TWO

   I opened the car door, pulled out a bottle of water, and handed it to her. She thanked me before gulping half of it down in one swig. Searching through my gym bag in the backseat, I found a sweatshirt for me, then handed her my letterman jacket. I watched as she shrugged it on. It looked huge on her, bigger than it did on Hannah. With her fingers curled around the edge of the sleeves, she slowly worked each of the buttons from the bottom up. It hung lower than the skirt she wore, almost down to her knees. “What?” Her voice pulled me from my thoughts.

   I shook my head, trying to clear it. “Shoes,” I mumbled.

   “What?” she asked again.

   I turned and sifted through the shit on the floor of the backseat. I knew I’d seen a pair of Hannah’s flip-flops there somewhere. She’d refused to take them back when I’d told her I’d found them. Maybe it was her way of claiming her territory. Better than her panties or bra, I guessed. Once I’d found them, I dropped them on the ground in front of Abby’s feet.

   She smirked. “Girlfriend’s?”

   “Sister’s,” I lied. Why the fuck did I just lie?

   It was obvious she didn’t believe me, but she didn’t question me, just slipped them on and waited with her hands in the jacket pockets.

   We set off, back to where I’d run into her, phone and flashlight in tow. It was awkward. I figured she had to know I’d lied about having a girlfriend. I broke the silence. “So, you go to school around here? I mean, what? How old are you anyway? I figure you’re around my age. I’m a senior.” Then quickly, I added, “I’m eighteen, though.” Yeah, because that was important. I shook my head at myself.

   “Here’s the thing, Blake.” She used that same tone with my name again. Before I could ask her what that was about, she continued, “Let’s not do the whole, awkward, get-to-know-you thing. In reality, we’ll probably never see each other again after tonight. Okay?”

   “Um . . . okay.”

   “Good.” After a pause, she added, “I don’t normally dress—or look—like this.”

   Facing her, I wondered why she’d say something like that. Her head was bent low, her face hidden behind her hair. I studied her intently. It struck me that I’d been doing that a lot. “Abby, I’m in no place to judge.”

   She raised her head, eyebrows drawn, and turned to me, as if confused. I couldn’t take my eyes off hers. Then she blinked. And it broke whatever silent communication was passing between us. “Thank you, Blake.”

   Every goddamn time she said my name, it was like a freight train running through my mind. Why did she say it like that? “You’re welcome, Abby.”

   She smirked. She must’ve known I was mocking her, but she didn’t call me on it. I came to a stop and tugged on her arm. “We’re here,” I informed her, shining the flashlight into some bushes.

   “Oh.” She looked around. “How can you tell?”

   “I run this track at least twice a day, or night, however you want to look at it.” I shrugged. “I just know.”

   I thought that she’d ask questions or wonder why I was out here in the dead of night while all my so-called friends were getting wasted at some cliché high-school party. But she didn’t. She just made her way into the bushes, with her arms outstretched, spreading leaves and branches out of her way.

   “You want me to call your phone? At least, you might be able to hear it.” I shined the flashlight over her shoulder so we could see in front of her.