Chapter 120: Chapter 120 - Think Faster
"Think faster," Zac said.
Roxie stared at him in the parking lot.
His hair was still damp from the game. The scratch on his cheek looked darker under the field lights, and his hoodie was zipped halfway over his jersey. He looked tired. He looked bruised in the face even though she was the one who had hit him.
That made her chest twist.
She fixed it with a glare.
"You won a playoff game and this is what you’re doing?"
"Yes."
"Go celebrate."
"I am."
"Standing in front of me like a stalker?"
His mouth twitched. "If we’re official, I can drive you home and stop following you like a creep."
Roxie went still.
"Following me?"
Zac’s face barely changed, but she saw it. That tiny pause.
She narrowed her eyes. "You follow me?"
"No."
"You just said it."
"I said like a creep. I didn’t say I was one."
"That sounds exactly like something a creep would say."
Zac sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Get in the truck, Roxie."
"No."
He looked past her toward the sidewalk that led out of the school grounds. "It’s late."
"So?"
"So you take the cemetery shortcut when you walk home."
Roxie’s stomach dropped.
She stared at him.
Zac seemed to realize his mistake too late.
"You really follow me home?"
"No."
"Zac."
"I saw you take it before."
"When?"
He looked away.
Roxie laughed, but it came out thin. "Oh my God. You do follow me."
"I make sure you get across the shortcut."
"That is following."
"That is making sure you don’t get murdered behind a cemetery after dark."
"Still following."
"Fine," he said. "Then I follow you in a normal human behavior."
Roxie looked at him like he had lost his mind. "No. That’s called stalking."
He shrugged once. "I just want you safe. Whatever."
Something warm moved in her chest before she could stop it.
She hated that too.
He had been watching.
In his creepy, stubborn, Prescott way, he had been watching the road she took. The dark shortcut. The place where the streetlights thinned out and the old cemetery wall ran along the sidewalk. He had known.
Even when they fought.
That should have made her angrier.
It did.
It also made her feel less alone for half a second, which was worse.
Zac held out a hand, palm up. "Keys are in my pocket. Truck is right there. You can sit in silence and insult me the entire way."
Roxie looked at his hand. "I’m not holding your hand."
"Just get in."
"I can go on my own."
"You’re impossible."
"You’re creepy."
Zac stared at her.
Roxie stared back.
The parking lot had thinned around them. A few cars were still pulling out near the gate. Somewhere by the field, Mason yelled something loud enough to make half the team laugh. Angela and Karen were gone. Coach Miller’s office light was still on inside the building.
Zac’s voice lowered. "Roxie. Get in the truck."
She hated the way her name sounded when he said it like that.
Tired.
Serious.
Like he had no energy left to fight her but would still stand there until she moved.
She rolled her eyes and walked around him toward the passenger side.
"I’m only doing this because it’s late and I’m tired."
Zac followed. "Sure."
He opened the passenger door.
Roxie looked at him.
He looked back.
"What?"
"I have hands."
"I know."
"Then move."
Zac stepped back.
Roxie climbed into the truck and hated the flutter in her stomach when the door shut between her and the parking lot.
The truck smelled like leather, grass, and the faint sweat of football gear. His duffel sat in the back seat. A half-empty sports drink rolled near the console when he got in on the driver’s side.
Zac started the engine.
For a few seconds, neither of them spoke.
The radio came on low, and Zac turned it off.
Roxie looked out the window as he pulled out of the parking lot. The school shrank behind them, field lights bright against the dark sky.
"You’re really insane," she said.
"For driving you home?"
"For Thanksgiving."
His hands tightened on the steering wheel.
"I want you to think about it."
Zac stopped at a red light.
The glow washed over his face. His cheek looked scratched and sore. Her nails had done that. She looked away before the guilt showed.
His voice came quieter. "Because I’m tired."
Roxie swallowed.
The light turned green.
He drove.
For a while, she watched houses pass outside the window. Warm windows. Porch lights. People inside probably eating leftovers, yelling at siblings, or watching TV with someone else in the room.
Then the real meaning of Thanksgiving settled in her stomach.
"He could mess with your football."
"I know."
"He could make your life hell."
Zac’s jaw flexed. "He already does."
Roxie’s chest tightened.
She looked away first.
The truck slowed near her street.
"Your mom won’t appreciate a surprise plus-one," she said, but her voice had lost some of its bite.
"She’ll live."
Roxie’s chest tightened so fast it hurt.
He said it like that was the answer.
Maybe for him, it was.
If choosing her cost him, he already knew.
That scared her more than him hiding ever had.
She looked at him.
He kept his eyes on the road.
That made it worse.
The house came into view.
Dark.
No porch light.
No living room glow through the curtains because Roxie had forgotten to leave the TV on before the game. The windows looked black. The driveway was empty.
Claire was gone.
The thought hit her hard enough that she forgot to breathe for a second.
Zac parked along the curb.
He looked at the house, then at her.
Roxie kept her face blank.
"Thanks for the ride," she said, reaching for the door.
Zac turned the engine off.
She froze.
"What are you doing?"
"I’ll walk you in."
"No."
"Yes."
"Zac."
"The house is dark."
"I have keys."
"That’s not what I said."
Her hand tightened around the door handle.
He was looking at the house with the same face he wore when he read a defense on the field. Too quiet. Too focused. Seeing too much.
Roxie hated it.
"My mom might be inside," she said.
The lie tasted bad.
Zac looked at her.
He didn’t call it a lie.
That somehow made it worse.
"I’ll stay until you fall asleep," he said. "Or until your mom comes home."
Roxie’s throat closed.
For a second, she couldn’t answer.
