David's face lights up, and I'm torn between a weird sense of self-satisfaction, and a sense of impending doom mixed with total regret. He doesn't move to pick up my phone, but I'm still tempted to snatch it back from him.

"I mean, it feels kind of self explanatory," he says.

"What about this is self explanatory?" Nothing about this is self explanatory. The idea of texting this number makes me want to crap my pants, for real for real. No cap. On god.

David fusses with his hair, undoing the cowlick from his sister. He messes with his hair a lot, I realize. Considering that he's on the swim team, he does a pretty alright job of maintaining it. "All he asked was how you're doing, right?" He squints down at the screen, double-checking. "Yep."

"And?" I'd feel stupid actually asking it outloud, but is there a right answer here? Is this some kind of test that normal people instinctively pass? Am I already failing by thinking too hard about it?

"Nick."

We make eye contact. I jut my chin forward, trying not to internally combust. "David."

"How are you doing?"

Somehow, he's tender when he asks me. His voice is as soft as his gaze, and his smile is slight.

"I'm ... alright," I tell him. My voice isn't tender so much as it is trembling.

"Nice to meet you, Alright. I'm Dad." He picks up the phone and starts typing.

OH FUCK NO.

"David, wait—" My hand clamps down on his solid forearm, trying to pull it away, grab my phone, do something, anything to stop him. He's smiling when he angles his body away, tugging me with him across the table. I brace myself with one hand on the wood, narrowly avoiding knocking over both of our hot chocolates, still desperately trying to stop him from sending whatever he's about to send.

"Sent!" he says. He stops fighting, and I tug his arm toward me so fast that I nearly fall backwards. I glance back out to the rest of the Happy Bean. No one has seemed to notice our fun-sized fracas—except for Louisa, who looks away quickly, shaking her head.

Kill me. Kill me now.

I snatch my phone out of his hand. "What is wrong with you?" We've turned the phone off in our scuffle; I'm trying to get facial recognition to work, but apparently, death-glares and face lock aren't compatible. So I furiously pound in my password, still trying to calm myself down. My heartbeat is pounding up in my ears again. I'm trying to unhunch my shoulders, and trying even harder to take a steady breath. Nothing is working.

"Nick. You were overthinking it! You're welcome."

"David, I swear to god—" My phone unlocks.

     Unknown Number: Hi! Oh my gosh you texted me back, how are you?

     Me: I'm alright, how are you?

I frown at the screen. That's ... not terrible.

Then I frown at the screen a little bit longer. I guess that's probably the most normal thing to have responded with, isn't it? Yeah. Yeah, actually, that was probably the best thing to have replied with.

"I asked you how you were," David offers, surprisingly somewhat meek. "Honesty is the best policy."

Even if it was the best response (and even if I was maybe being an idiot), it's still not cool that he did that. "Be that as it may, David, I really don't like it when people overstep my boundaries like that."

His face falls. "Oh my gosh, Nick, wait, I'm so sorry. I—"

"It's fine." I manage to inhale and exhale without it being a conscious effort, meaning it really is fine, probably. "Just don't do it again."

And I take another sip of my hot chocolate, gazing out the window at the post office once more, and surprised that I can actually taste the blackberry syrup on my scalded tongue.

~~~

I survive the drive back to school with David. We barely speak the entire time.

Well, I barely speak.

"And then Karthik Chavali—of all people!—told Molly that he'd go straight to her mom with her cheating in her own mother's class and Molly was like 'Um, you don't have the balls, Karthik' and then Karthik did go to Molly's mom, but instead of letting it go on her academic record or whatever, Mrs. Moriarty straight-up yoinked her out of school and sent her to live with her great aunt, and now she goes to some teeny-tiny school near Watertown or Brookings or something, and isn't that crazy?"

"Yeah, David. That's pretty crazy."

"Yeah I know, absolutely insane. Molly kinda sucked. Super pretty, but she sucked. Love Karthik, but he does get into hella drama. Like, did you hear about his beef with Omar Chaudhry?"

I sigh. Here goes another five minutes of my life that I'll never get back. "Nope."

"Okay so like, you know how Mr. Russo always lets people watch sports games in study hall? Well, Omar wanted to watch—"

"Wait, actually, hold up. Who the fuck is Omar Chaudhry?"

"Oh, he graduated two years ago. But—"

I look at him. "So Karthik was a freshman?"

"Yes. And?"

"What kind of senior beefs with a freshman?"

"I don't know, Nick, 2021 was a crazy time. And Omar could be a bit weird sometimes. His little brother is super nice though. Actually, he's, like, Karthik's best friend." He takes the turn into the parking lot way too fast, and I cling to the edge of my seat. "Anyways, I know nothing about cricket, but what I do know is—"

"Ohhhh no! We're here!"

The parking lot is sparser than usual—it's lunch period right now, so the majority of people who are able to leave campus have jetted off. Even though towns like Hardin are pretty small, and Hardin High itself is even smaller, we need just as much parking space as regular schools. In South Dakota, you can start driving yourself to school when you're fourteen. Fourteen. I'll never forget some of my eighth grade classmates rolling up to school in brand new Dodges and Fords. What a strange, icky world we live in.

David glances at me, his smile concerningly devilish. "We're not done yet, Nick."

I frown. "David, I will get out and walk."

He rolls his eyes, still smiling. "Alright, alright, fine, you win. Guess you don't want the Hardin High lore."

"I go to Hardin High, David."

"Yeah, but"—he's pouting, and I do not like it— "you know no tea."

"Is this why you want to be involved with this whole secret admirer thing?"

The pout turns into a stupidly wide grin. "I already told you, yes. I live for this kind of stuff."

I shake my head at him. "You're terrible."

"You love it."

"Yeah, sure, whatever. You and Christa should talk more. She's also a total blabbermouth." It's why she and Sirina make such a great couple—Christa knows everything about everyone, and everyone knows Sirina, who can be the right kind of terrifying. She's like a goddess of high school social hierarchy justice, stepping in when things get really icky and someone needs to be some sort of authority figure.

"See, I love Christa. Bio is my favorite class, and it's a little bit because of her and her gossip." David pulls into a parking spot with unanticipated grace, then glances back at me. "I walk out learning so many new things. Macromolecules, pregnancy scares, you name it. The entertainment is endless."

"David Marquez, I think you might be a sociopath."

That fucking new grin—the never-before-seen devilish one—is back. "Yeah, I bet you're into it though."

I'm sorry, into it? Into it?

Hm. Yeah. No. Moment ruined.

I step out of the truck before David can say anything else that gives me the ick, dragging my overstuffed backpack along behind me. "I'll see you later," I tell him, before he even has the chance to unbuckle. And then, because I'm not a total monster, "Thanks for the hot chocolate."

"Oh, you're welc—"

I shut the door in his face, because I may not be a monster, but I'm pretty sure he deserves it.

A/N - sorry for the late update! I went to Prague this weekend to meet up with a friend (went clubbing, ate baguettes, fell down at set of stairs the next morning completely sober and sprained my ankle really bad and hobbled through two airports and the train station back to my dorm with no crutches) (I love my life) (when will this mockery end) so I FORGOT I'M SORRY

i'll see you guys on Friday as well!! <3