The Mobil sign buzzed overhead like a dying firefly, flickering against the hood of Randy’s truck. Wyatt parked a few spots away, both of us stepping out slowly, like the ground might give way.
Randy was already there, leaning against his tailgate, a cigarette hanging from his lips. He lit it with a cheap gas‑station lighter, the flame catching his face in a quick orange flash. His hands trembled a little. He didn’t look at us right away.
Wyatt shoved his hands in his pockets. I crossed my arms. The three of us stood there in a crooked triangle, the air thick with everything we weren’t saying.
Randy finally exhaled a thin stream of smoke. “I’m not gonna swing again,” he muttered.
Wyatt didn’t answer.
Randy scratched the back of his neck. “And I’m not gonna pretend I wasn’t being a dick.”
Wyatt’s jaw tightened. “Yeah. You were.”
Randy nodded once, as he deserved it. “I know.”
Another drag. Another long exhale. The smoke drifted up into the buzzing lights.
He stared at the pavement. “I was trying to see if I could pull her.”
Wyatt blinked. “What?”
Randy shrugged, eyes still down. “Megan. I wanted to see if I could pull her. That’s it. That’s the truth.”
The words hit the air like a dropped wrench.
Wyatt took a step forward, fists clenching again. “You….”
I grabbed his arm. “Don’t.”
Randy held up a hand, cigarette pinched between two fingers. “I know. I know. It was stupid. I wasn’t thinking. I was pissed. I was bored. I was… whatever.”
He took another drag, slower this time. “She didn’t go for it. She wasn’t into it. She talked about you the whole damn time.”
Wyatt froze.
Randy flicked ash onto the concrete. “Didn’t stop me from trying, though.”
The silence after that felt heavier than the fight.
Wyatt stared at him, breathing hard. “Why would you do that?”
Randy shrugged again, helpless. “Because I’m an idiot. Because I wanted to see if I could. Because I felt small. Pick one.”
He looked at me next, eyes tired. My chest tightened.
Randy took one last drag, then dropped the cigarette and crushed it under his shoe. “I’m not asking you to forgive me. I’m not asking you to like me. I’m just telling you what happened.”
Wyatt didn’t move. I didn’t either.
Randy stepped back toward his truck. “I’m going home. You guys do whatever.”
He opened the door, paused, and looked over his shoulder.
“Wait… dude,” Wyatt said.
Randy’s shoulders slumped. He rolled his lip between his teeth, feeling where the skin had split.
“Look, man…” Randy lifted both hands like he was surrendering.
“I don’t….look… thank you for being honest,” Wyatt mumbled, eyes drifting to the dent in the fender.
Randy followed his gaze and let out a soft laugh. “And for what it’s worth… You both hit harder than you look.”
I didn’t know what to do with that.
“Man, I’m really… I’m sorry about that,” Wyatt whispered, pointing at the dent.
“Whatever,” Randy said, brushing it off.
“Look, we don’t need to be looking over our backs at school,” I added, stepping forward, letting my height do its work.
Randy nodded, eyes half‑closing. “You got my word.”
“Good,” Wyatt huffed, his frown slipping into something like a smile. Randy chuckled, and somehow that made Wyatt smile for real.
“Look, we kicked the shit out of each other over girls, and they dropped us like a bad habit,” Randy said, lighting another cigarette.
We all laughed. That weird, shaky laugh only people who’ve fought each other can share.
“Dude,” I said, shaking my head.
“What are you doing tomorrow?” Wyatt asked.
“Nothing. Why?” Randy said between drags.
“We’re going fishing at Lake Gibson,” Wyatt said, quiet but sure. “East ramp. 5:30.”
Randy squinted at him. “You for real? Or are you trying to mess me up and dump me in the lake?”
“Fair enough,” Wyatt smirked.
Randy snuffed the cigarette on the concrete, climbed into his truck, and started the engine. He gave us a small nod before pulling out, taillights fading into the dark.
Wyatt and I stood there under the buzzing lights, the night finally quiet, the truth still hanging between us like smoke.
A familiar set of headlights swung into the Mobil lot not long after Randy pulled out. Wyatt and I both turned at the same time.
Megan’s car.
My stomach dropped before the engine even shut off.
The car rolled into the space two down from us, tires crunching over loose gravel. The dome light flicked on when the doors opened, and there they were. Megan climbed out fast, Blaire slower, like she wasn’t sure she should be here.
Wyatt straightened. I didn’t move.
Megan’s eyes went straight to Wyatt’s cheek, already swelling. She froze mid‑step, guilt washing over her face so fast it looked like she’d been slapped.
“Oh my God,” she whispered, hand flying to her mouth.
Wyatt looked away.
Blaire didn’t say anything at first. She just stood there in the glow of the Mobil sign, arms wrapped around herself, eyes flicking between me and the ground. She looked like she’d been crying again. Or she never stopped.
Megan took a hesitant step forward. “Wyatt… we didn’t know you were coming. We didn’t….”
Wyatt held up a hand. Not angry. Not yelling. Just tired. “Meg… not right now.”
She stopped like he’d put up a wall she hadn’t seen until she ran into it.
Blaire finally looked at me. Her eyes were red, her face soft in a way that made something burn in my chest. She opened her mouth like she wanted to say something, then closed it again.
The silence stretched.
Blaire didn’t nod. She just kept staring at me like she was waiting for me to say something first.
I didn’t.
The four of us stood there under the buzzing lights, the night still humming with everything that had happened and everything none of us were ready to talk about.
Wyatt didn’t say anything.
Blaire took a small step toward me, then stopped. “Chris…” she said softly.
But before she could finish, a police cruiser rolled past on the main road, lights off but presence loud enough to snap all of us back to reality.
Megan took a shaky step toward Wyatt, eyes locked on the swelling in his cheek. “Wyatt… I didn’t want any of this. I swear.”
Wyatt didn’t look at her at first. He kept staring at the pavement like he was trying to hold himself together with sheer will. His breath came out uneven, like he’d been holding it since the fight.
“Megan,” he said quietly.
Wyatt lifted his head, and he didn’t look angry. He looked scared. Like the truth had been sitting in his chest for weeks, and the fight had knocked it loose.
“I realized something tonight,” he said, voice rough. “When I saw you with him… when I thought I was losing you…”
Megan’s eyes widened. Blaire stopped breathing beside her.
“Wyatt. Stop…” Megan pleaded, her face red.
Wyatt swallowed hard. “I love you.”
The words hung there, too heavy, too honest, too late to take back.
Megan’s eyes squinted.
“Wyatt…” she whispered. “You think you can manipulate me. Say some shit like that, and it will all be okay?” Megan’s hands shook.
Wyatt shook his head, almost apologizing. “I didn’t mean to say it like this. Not here. Not after all that. But it’s true. I love you. I’ve been trying to figure it out for weeks, and tonight… I just knew.” A tear traced down through the dust and dirt on Wyatt’s cheek.
Megan stepped closer, slowly, still upset, but she was afraid he’d disappear if she moved too fast. “I didn’t know,” she said, voice breaking. “I didn’t know you felt that way.”
Wyatt let out a shaky laugh. “I didn’t either. Not until I thought I’d blown it.”
Blaire looked at me then like she was wondering what I was feeling, or what I wasn’t saying.
Megan reached out, fingertips brushing Wyatt’s bruised cheek. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
Wyatt closed his eyes at the touch, like it hurt and healed him at the same time.
“So. What now?” Megan asked as she leaned into him. Her hand on his cheek. Wyatt blinked, like he hadn’t expected to get this far. Like saying it had been the whole mountain, and now he was standing on the edge with no idea what the view was supposed to look like.
“I don’t know,” he whispered.
Megan sighed and pulled her hand back a little, not all the way, just enough that the space between them felt fragile. “Wyatt… you can’t say something like that and then…”
“I’m not taking it back,” he said, voice steadier now. “I’m not. But I don’t know what happens next. I don’t know if you want me. I don’t know if you’re mad. I don’t know anything.”
Megan looked down at her shoes, her hair falling forward like she was hiding behind it. “I’m not mad,” she said quietly. “I’m… overwhelmed.”
Wyatt let out a breath that sounded like it hurt.
Behind her, Blaire shifted her weight, arms wrapped tight around herself. She kept glancing at me, then away, like she was afraid of what she’d see on my face. I didn’t give her anything. I couldn’t.
Megan wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “Tonight was a mess. All of it. Randy. The fight.”
Wyatt nodded, slowly. They stood there, inches apart, both breathing like they were trying to match each other’s rhythm.
Wyatt swallowed. “I want to be with you. That’s what I know.”
Megan’s eyes lifted, searching his face like she was trying to see if he meant it or if it was just adrenaline talking. Whatever she found there made her shoulders drop, the tension bleeding out of her. Wyatt’s eyes closed for a second, like he needed to steady himself. Megan stepped closer, her forehead almost touching his. Wyatt finally reached up and took Megan’s hand, holding it like it was something he’d almost lost.