"Hey, Jack can I go to a friend's soccer game?" I ask, already packing a bag for the road.

The small detail I failed to include is that I am planning to attend Michael's game. We were texting last night, and he said that Henry was going to be there. I replied immediately telling him I would be there.

 Since I feel the need to get consent from an adult, I ask Jack because Mom and Dad are at work. He strolls into the kitchen adjusting his tie. He is at the house because he has a meeting nearby this morning. Something with the chief of police.

He clears his throat and begins to speak. "Okay."

His vague responses drive me beyond insane. Is it that difficult to elaborate even the slightest bit?

"My friend Amy is picking me up." I shout from my bedroom.

Look, giving him the most information I can is for the best. The more he knows, the better, so Mom and Dad don't freak out when they find out I attended a soccer game without their consent. 

"Okay! You are seventeen, girl. I could care less where you go, just be careful I guess." He replies stomping into the hallway. "I gotta scoot, talk to you later, Bridge." He finalizes.

He leaves abruptly and shuts the door. I collapse on my bed and look at the ceiling as I ponder about the thought of being all alone in my little apartment. Mom and Dad are reasonably quiet, but there is always something different about being home alone, and I love it. Amy should be pulling up any minute so I slip on my converse and make my way to the window so I can watch out for her. 

The cool breeze hits my face as I make my way to the window, and I let my hair fly behind me with the wind's force. I am yanked from my moment once I hear Amy's loud-ass muffler. Her rusty Buick never fails to amuse me.

I lock the door to the apartment and begin to walk down the stairs. Once, I open the door to the outside, I wave lightly at her in order to brush the awkwardness away. I open the door and sit down.

"Thanks for coming to get me. You know how my parents are about getting my license and all that. I have almost convinced them to let me take the course. I mean I am seventeen!" I groan, buckling my seatbelt.

Amy pulls out of the driveway and speeds down the road. There is no rush, but this girl just enjoys a good serotonin boost. 

"No problem. I have no issue with watching hot guys play soccer." She pops her gum obnoxiously. 

"Keep in mind, they are like two years younger than us. That's kinda gross." I reply, acknowledging her unspoken intentions.

"Yeah, yeah." She rolls her eyes and motions to her phone. "Can you play the song I have up? I am trying to avoid looking at my phone while driving."

"Sure." I oblige, taking her phone from the cup holder.

I tap the screen and press play absentmindedly. Instantly, I recognize the song once the airplane wooshing usurps the audio; Amy starts to laugh hysterically.

"No!" I groan jokingly as I listen to "Wheels Up" blast in her car. 

Amy begins to sing along and dance in her seat once H.i.M. begins to sing. She seems way too excited to be listening to the stupid parody some guy made with my parents and the team. I struggle to remain sane while listening to the song. I open up her phone and see my mom and JJ twerking. I panic and let out a scream and quickly turn off the song and toss the phone back in the glovebox. 

"I just had to open it to my Mom twerking, come on." I scowl as I put my hands over my face in complete dismay.

"Chill out, the video went viral so long ago anyway. Old news. My mom showed me this video years back and let's be honest, this song is a complete bop." She counters happily.

She begs me to play it again, but I refuse. All I asked for was a ride to the soccer field, not a car ride full of mortification at my mom's twerking.

Fortunately, we pull into the field moments later, and I let out a sigh of relief. I open the door and get out before anything else could happen in there.

"Oh, I forgot to mention, but I gotta be home by 4:30, so I won't be able to bring you home." She decides to add after I had already chose her as my designated driver for today.

"Amy, you failed to mention that when I texted you this morning. Shit, I am going to have to call my Dad and ask him to pick me up. I hate you!" I groan, making my way towards the field.

"What's the worst that can happen anyway?" Amy shrugs, spitting her gum into the trashcan, but nearly missing.

"I mean, I could always ask Henry." I suggest.

"OH MY GOD." Amy squeals. "Like Henry your Dad's coworker's son?" 

Amy shuts the car off and slams the door shut. With determination in her stride, she reaches me in seconds.

"Yes . . . what other Henry do I know?" I retort with a hint of sass in my voice.

Amy interrogates me with twenty question before we find a spot on the bleachers. We sit down and I urge her to be quiet so we can focus on the game. By the game, I mean Henry. As long as I can wait until 4:30ish to go by him, I'm all set. I am not about to have my crazy friend interrogate him too. If that happens, all of my slight chances of somehow getting together with him will diminish in seconds.

"I see Michael!" I exclaim. "Go Michael!" I shout, quite aware that there is no way for him to hear me from where we are sitting.

"Wow." Amy gasps. "He's hot."

In front of us the one and only Henry LaMontagne marches past us. Everything suddenly transfers to slow motion, and we stare at him in complete awe with each stride he takes. His shaggy blonde air blows perfectly against his tan skin and frames his gorgeous face. His bright green eyes glow in the sun's light. My god, I don't think it is physically possible for the sun to hit his skin the wrong way. The wind caused his shirt to press up against his body; his abs more prominent than ever. Amy and I are so captivated that it is hard to pull our eyes away from him. Suddenly, reality hits when I hear my name being called.

"Dude, he just said hi to you!" Amy proclaims giddily, shaking me out of my trance.

I let an uncomfortable laugh slip out ,and I wave. "Uh, hi!" I answer.

He gives me an odd glance at the reluctance ringing in my voice. I literally grew up with him running around my house with my brother. Trust me, I could never forget him. I am just trying not to put on a big scene. 

"Jessa, are you coming or what?" He shouts.

My eyes widen and I turn my head towards him and then in the other direction.

No, no, no, no. 

This cannot be happening. My whole plan is about to be demolished if some girl shows up. Before I can finish my thought, a girl appears to the left of me. A beautiful tall blonde with blue eyes. Of course. All the blondes get the hot guys. Ugh. I straight up love this man, and this girl is tearing us apart now? Unacceptable. 

Okay, okay, I don't love him, love him, but I love him enough where something like this is extremely hard to digest.

Then to make matters worse, Henry pulls Jessa closer to him and gives her a big kiss. 

"Oh my god." I blurt, turning away from them.

Amy snickers, "Dude, what is your deal today? We paid five bucks each to get into this game, so-"

She is right. I made her pay five dollars to get into the game and here I am obsessing over some guy that is nearly twice as old as me. At this point, attending this worthless soccer game is irrelevant. Amy gets up and leaves once she realizes it is 4:15, which leaves me all alone.

I pick up my phone and dial Dad's number. I cross my fingers and hope that he is able to answer me. As I wait for him to pick up, I notice some man staring at me from afar. I find it odd, but excuse it.

"Hotchner."

"Dad, it's me. Can you pick me up? I am at Embrey Mill." I state.

Dad sighs violently through the phone and it hurts my ear. "I'll be there in twenty. Wait for me by the benches, okay?"

"Okay, thanks Dad." I hang up and make my way towards the benches. 

Before completely exiting the field, I take one last look at Henry just in time to see him wrap his arm around Jessa and kiss her once again. I can feel my heart ache just watching. I manage to tear myself away from him and think about how crazy I am. I am rarely this boy crazy and seeing him with someone else actually hurt me. I have never even dated a guy before (unless you count the one day fling I had with my neighbor in first grade).

I reach the table, pull out my phone, and sit down. It has been about five minutes since the call, but something inside of me tells me I need to hurry. I have no method of transportation besides walking, but the apartment is probably a good forty five minutes away by foot. I excuse the funny feeling brewing inside of me and resume playing on my phone. 

Dad sends me an obviously voice-texted message saying, on my way I I will see you soon okay end message.

I take that information and stare at the parking lot thinking about him pulling up in his fancy work car. Chevy Tahoes aren't fancy per say, but to think of what those cars have been through is kind of neat.

I begin to feel someone staring at me, so I slowly turn around. A younger man, the same one as before, is standing only a few feet away from me. I shiver and look him up and down. He is balding slightly and has light blonde hair. He seems to be in his mid thirties. His teeth are crooked and it looks like he is trying hard not to smile but can't avoid doing so. The way he looks at me is freaking me out, so I pray that my dad pulls up at any moment.

Thankfully, Dad's car emerges near the hill, and I sprint to meet him half way. He hits the brakes to let me in the car but is clearly concerned.

"Bridget! What the hell was that for?" He yells.

He sees me sweating and flushed, so he pauses and sighs. He knows something is wrong instantly and I speak before he attempts to dig deep into my soul for answers.

"There's a man, Dad. He wouldn't stop following me." I explain nearly panting as I speak to him.

"What?" Dad responses incredulously as he scans the park.

I point to him standing just beyond the bench where I was seated only moments before. He pulls out his phone and takes a low resolution picture to send to Garcia. Before he sends it, he enlarges the image and lets out a gasp.

"What is it?" I question, my heart beginning to beat faster than ever before.

"He looks familiar, Bridget." He responds, meaning that it looks like someone he has dealt with before.

I swallow. "Is it . . . bad?"

"It can't be. . . he is dead. Luke watched him die, I know it." 

I panic. Dad is growing anxious, and now I am too. What is this all about? I am in the car with him now, so I am safe as can be.

"Dad, you're freaking me out!" I admit. 

I rarely admit my feelings to my parents, especially when feeling helpless.

Instead of answering me, he steps on the gas, and the trees and the man turn into one big blur out the window.