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The car headlights blind my driver's eyes as if they were invented for that purpose, but it doesn't bother him at all - what bothers him far more is the suffocating heat. The window on his side is all the way down, just like mine.

A cigarette hangs from his cherry-colored lips, smoking like a locomotive. As I stare at his mouth, an unpleasant memory breaks into my consciousness: a night from my teenage years when those lips offered me love for a lifetime, but I turned it down. That was five years ago, and Mark Turner became my brother sooner than he became my lover. I direct my gaze toward the hand gripping the wheel; his veins stand out through his skin, and I know well that even those veins carry filth. He never talks about the bad things he gets into or how he climbs out of them; he just gives everyone a faint smile and lies that everything's fine. Eventually, only next to me can his tired soul fully rest. I can tell when he's really resting, like now. His shoulders aren't tense, the skin on his jaw isn't pulled tight from stress, and his eyes radiate calm. He adjusts his bleached hair with his free hand, removes the cigarette from his mouth, and flicks the ash into the distance. I don't want to keep watching him, so I check my messages instead. A smile crosses my face when I see how he tried to reach me during my shift.

"I'm waiting for you."

"Still waiting."

"I'm bored."

"I kind of miss you, by the way."

"I'm heading your way, okay?"

"Heeeeeyyy."

"Heeyy!!"

"HELLO."

"I MISS YOU"

"Fine, don't text back."

“How was your day?” he breaks the silence. I sneak a glance at him; his eyes never leave the road.

“Monotonous. Yours?”

“Boring. I was afraid it would stay that way”

“I'll keep you entertained. Don't worry about that.”

The rest of the ride passes in silence. Mark watches the road, while I observe the houses, trees, and people. Later, the sign indicating we've arrived in Vernon catches my eye. From that point on, I start analyzing the hand gripping the wheel again with my pupils. He turns it in the right direction with such ease, which bothers me because I once tried driving the car in an empty parking lot, and I found turning left so difficult that I just kept going straight.

“Interesting?”

“Pardon?”

“My hand, is it interesting?”

“Quite…” I remark with a mocking smile and decide to continue watching the road.

A few seconds later, the car's engine rests in the fast-food parking lot. I unbuckle my seatbelt and reach for my bag.

“Don't worry, I'll pay.”

“But I wanted to get a cookie too.”

“Oh no!” he overreacts, not even pretending, making me grimace.

“Very funny...”

“Shall we go in?”

I don't answer, just raise my hands in surrender after turning off the radio. In response, he climbs out from behind the wheel and walks briskly toward me to open the door. Once it's open, I step out and playfully bow to him.

“Sir.”

“Ma'am, please proceed.”

With a quiet chuckle, I comply with his request and head toward the entrance. He walks behind me with his hands in his pockets. Closing the door stole a moment of his life, leaving him just far enough behind that I can't observe him until we reach the restaurant. When we arrive, I open the door this time, and in character, he nods in acknowledgment of the kindness and goes to order while I take a seat in an empty booth.

My phone once again seems more interesting than the place we're in, so I respond to a few messages, mostly from my friend Elizabeth, who's asking if I'm still sure about tomorrow's movie night. I don't reply yet. When I'm with Mark, neither my tomorrow nor my plans for the day are certain; all I know is that everything can change at any moment.

I wait a long time for him, though nowhere near as long as he usually waits for me, but in this crowded place, every minute feels like an hour to my body. Even though I have my phone and Eliz, I still miss the blond. I steal a glance at him; he's talking to another boy, his brown eyes briefly meet mine before he returns to speaking with my friend.

I feel strange in these moments, and I turn my head toward the window, as nature has always been more interesting to me than the situation unfolding around me. Though ignoring my problems won't solve them, I find it easier to live day by day this way.

“Sorry, Chris caught me.” Mark flops down next to me so abruptly that my body jolts. He places two trays on the table without hesitation. I don't even know which one is meant for me.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

“Chris”

“Christopher.”  I raise an eyebrow, should I know who he's talking about? He pushes one of the trays toward me, and that's when I notice my cookie resting on it.

“Aha!!” I point at him with my index finger, an expression of sudden enlightenment on my face. “The Chris who...”

“...who was my classmate.”

“You've never mentioned him.” inform him as I dump the fries onto the tray. Slowly, I begin to unwrap the small burger.

“Really?” a grimace takes over his face as he swipes a fry from me. “Whatever. What toy did you get?”

“How would I know…” I roll my eyes as I throw the toy box at his head. Thanks to his quick reflexes, he catches it, but his eyes still widen.

“If that hit me, it could've poked my eye out!”

“But it didn't.”

I start eating, watching as he investigates the box's contents. When it turns out it only contains stickers, he places it back on the table, disappointed. A quiet snicker escapes me, and Mark gives me a threatening look.

“What's in yours?” I try to salvage the situation.

“Chris said that at twenty-three, I don't get a toy anymore.”

That was all I needed to giggle, and in return, I get the sticker pack thrown in my face. It doesn't bother me; I continue munching on my fries with the same good humor as before.

“I like Christopher.”

“Haha… ” after his quiet comment, he starts eating too.

Occasionally, I notice him glancing at me, but I don't find it important enough to devote much time to it. We finish eating quickly, though not because we're fast eaters. He's been pondering our next plan for a while - it's evident. Last time's loss in basketball still stings for him, or maybe he's eager to show off his air hockey skills again? I shake my head at the thought; we'll soon find out, no need to get ahead of myself.

“Are we walking?”

“We can, it's not that far.”

We rise from the table at the same time, and he takes the trays to the designated spot. I walk slowly after him, checking if I have everything with me.

I glance back at our booth, just in case, but we've only left the sticker pack behind, hoping it makes someone else happier than it did us. This time, the door doesn't open for me; he puts himself first. I pass him with feigned offense, and he lets out a quiet laugh in response.

“Sorry, I'm just... I really want to beat you at air hockey.”

I let it go with a shrug - if that's what fueled his sweetest dreams, I won't spoil the fun. In fact, maybe I'll even let him win. It's the least I can do since he paid for dinner. The rest of the walk is quiet; I amuse myself by watching the clouds, while Mark passes the time tapping on his phone.

The arcade's door is open. We've been here a few times, yet I still hesitate as I take the first step. The whole place is ruled by darkness; all the light in the room comes from the machines. The space glows red, green, and blue, and if it weren't for my eagerness for a rematch, I would certainly turn away and head somewhere else. This is probably the least welcoming place I come to every week, all because of Mark.

“Ready?” he calls me to the air hockey table, and I gather all my courage, straighten up, and approach him so confidently that I surprise even myself.

Mark takes care of starting the machine, and as soon as its silly music plays, the puck shoots out toward my side. The match doesn't last long - it might take five minutes from our lives, but in those minutes, I focus all my attention on not looking deliberately bad. I carelessly and slowly hit the puck, giving my friend a chance to attack, or I just space out, so he can shoot it into my goal. Either way, I still win by a narrow margin, and we end up spending at least two more hours at the machine.

“You got lucky.”

“Certainly. I glance at the basketball hoops. maybe we should skip this; it doesn't feel wise.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because we've been playing basketball for six years, and it's just a kid's game, we've held the record for months.” I explained, glancing away. 

He sighs in resignation. I can see in his eyes that he wants to argue with me, but the constant vibration of his phone prevents him from doing so. He raises his index finger, letting me know to wait a moment, steps aside, and answers his phone. It doesn't take long, and in the meantime, I start staring at my shoes. They don't seem interesting, but it would be rude to interrupt a conversation.

“We're going.”

“Where are we going?” my eyebrows automatically rise at the sudden change.

“I don't know.”

“You don't know?”

“I do know… I don't know.” I tilt my head, staring into Mark's big brown eyes. I purse my lips. Is he planning to kidnap me? What do you mean, "I don't know"? “ Are you coming?”

“But where?”

“Nina... I don't know.”

“Stop messing with me... Let's go!” I cross my arms and start walking out of the game room, but since I don't know where this "I don't know" is, I wait for Mark and fix my eyes on him.

“Why did you stop?”

“Because I want to hit you. Lead the way, please.” I soften, and he rolls his eyes before grabbing my wrist to guide me through several long streets for the next few minutes. For a while, I keep track of where we're going and what we pass by, but it all becomes clear when we reach a bar, its name glowing in white letters:

"I Don't Know"

He doesn't take me inside the building, but instead leads me to a table where three people are already sitting. I turn to Mark with a questioning look, but he just squeezes my wrist reassuringly with a smile.

“Guys, this is Nina.”

“Nice to meet you...” I go through the formalities, but when they get up from their seats, I'm suddenly a little shy as I take in the sight of the men.

First, a familiar figure introduces himself as Christopher, calling me by name. Then, a blonde, freckled guy with green eyes named Derek shakes my hand. The third one takes a few more seconds. 

He awkwardly crawls out from the back chair, maneuvers around a tree, and pushes aside some chairs to get closer to me, but the curb trips him up. Forgetting about the height difference, he falls straight forward - onto me. I can't see anything but his huge blue eyes and his wavy black hair, which falls right into my face. In the sudden jolt of it all, I can only close my eyes as we both hit the ground with a groan.

“What the hell, Dante!?” Mark raises his voice, and I open my eyes.

The strange feeling that grips me makes my stomach flutter. One of his hands rests under my head, probably to cushion the impact, while the other is propped up above me. His eyes start to tremble as they meet mine, and judging by his Adam's apple, he even gulps at his performance.

“Dante, don't drink anymore … ” Derek's words snap Dante out of his stunned state. Like a lightning bolt, he jumps up and helps Mark pull me to my feet.

“I'm so sorry!” he starts dusting off my clothes like his life depends on it. He's really sweet...

“I'm short, don't worry… I barely noticed I fell.” I try to smile at him, but he avoids eye contact. I have no idea why he's acting like this. It could happen to anyone to just fall into someone else.

“I'm Dante, Dante Ross.”

“Nina's probably happy to meet you, but stop groping her!” 

Mark grabs Dante's wrist, and the air suddenly turns cold. I'm not sure if it's because of the atmosphere or because of my friend's gaze, but I get the feeling that even Dante's shy smile, directed at me in childish embarrassment, won't be enough to thaw it.