He was waiting for me, leaning against the divider with a bundle under his arm. I felt that nauseating airy feeling again. A spot at the tip of my stomach clenched and I thought I might explode from excitement.

“C’mon.”

I followed. “Where are we going?”

“Just c’mon.”

It was dark, but I ignored my fears and blindly followed him. I was too interested in finding out where he was taking me to worry about anything else. For weeks, I was plotting runins with him and hanging out with Lavi when I knew he would be around, but nothing had drawn his attention until tonight. For a second, I wondered if I was dreaming, but the chill in the air and the goose bumps running up and down my arms made me certain that I was no longer under the covers.

“Here.”

If I was expecting some sweet romantic lovers’ spot, I was sorely disappointed. The edge of the townhouse complex abutted a twolane highway where the occasional tractortrailer passed. He pointed to a spot on the ground and motioned for me to sit. It was cold and damp and I could feel the wetness seeping into the seat of my sweatpants. He unrolled the bundle from under his arm.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Jeans.” He walked over to the middle of the road and laid them down. Then he came back and sat beside me.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“You’ll see.”

We sat in the quiet. A street lamp across from us gave off the only light on the road. I could hear the sound of a truck in the distance and I could see two yellow headlights, like cat eyes, coming toward us. As it got closer, it got louder, and I realized I had stopped breathing.

The truck came barreling down, its headlights lighting a path and casting shadows onto the lump of fabric on the road, which almost looked as though it was alive. I watched as the wheels smashed down onto the ground, crushing the pants with their force, and then spit exhaust into our faces as it passed. The pants lay contorted, the legs spread into an unnatural position, helplessly awaiting the next assault, abandoned. Another truck came along a few minutes later, but this time I turned my head. After that, it was quiet and I kept my eyes turned away.

“You cold?” he asked.

I hadn’t realized I was shivering.

“Here.” He unzipped the worn brown leather jacket I had stared at all through detention weeks before. He tossed it into my lap and I slipped my arms into the sleeves. It still held the warmth of his body. I brought my knees up to my chest and tried to take an inconspicuous deep breath. He smelled like cinnamon. . . .

“So what was up with that story you gave West? About you and me in the elevator.”