I don't know how long I've been driving for, but it's dark by the time the symbol lights up on the dash, alerting me that I'm low on gas. I look around at the graffiti-covered walls and potholed roads, just realizing that I'm in the wrong side of town.

I look back down at the gas sign, contemplating if I'd have enough to turn around and get to a filling station in the safer half of Ferndale.

Biting the inside of my cheek, I decide to take my chances.

Just get out, fill up, get back in.

Easy.

I pull into a gas station. After a quick scan of the place, I hop out of my Jeep, locking the doors behind me. Speed walking to the gas tank, I unscrew the cap and push the gas pipe into it.

Just as it starts filling, I hear something. Something scuffling against the bitumen. After a few seconds, it halts.

I listen to my common sense telling me to stop fueling. After all, I just need enough gas to get me out of this area. I screw the cap back on the tank and jog to the gas station to pay.

To my surprise, there's no one inside. I peer over the counter, trying to get a look into the back room, but don't see any movement. I look around, confirming that there's no one here, before leaving a wad of cash on the counter. Just as I'm leaving, however, I hear it again. More feet shuffling, followed by a muffled cry. On alert, I walk over to the side of the building.

I gasp at what I see.

A guy, probably in his mid-twenties, has his arm wrapped around a girl's waist. His other hand is cupped over her mouth. She struggles against him, but he's just too strong.

I look around, hoping a police car magically appears. Just as I pull out my phone to call for help, I hear a pained scream. The guy's arm is still holding the girl securely against him, but he's shaking his other hand. Something drips from it, and it takes me a moment to realize it's bleeding.

The guy yells in outrage, "You bit me!"

"Get off of me!" The voice sounds eerily familiar.

My attention snaps to the girl. Now that his hand is no longer covering her face, I can clearly see her. Raven hair, pale skin, almond-shaped eyes.

I gasp. Addison.

"Hey!" I scream, already charging forward.

Both heads swing towards me. Addison's eyes go wide while the guy spits out in rage, "Stay out of this! It has nothing to do with you."

"It has everything to do with me," I lie easily, "She's my girlfriend."

The guy retorts, "You a thief too?"

I stutter, momentarily taken aback, "Uh, no. Neither is she."

"Then how do you explain those?" He points at a backpack lying a few feet away from him. I cautiously take a few steps towards it, using my foot to lift the unzipped cover. Inside is a bottle of antiseptic and a pack of bandages.

"She wasn't stealing them."

The guy quirks his eyebrow, obviously not believing me.

Undeterred, I continue with the lie, "She forgot her money at home so she called me, asking if I could drop by to pay. She was in a hurry so left before I got here." I take out my wallet, offering him some cash, "This should be more than enough."

He looks at Addison, then at the money, unsure of what to do.

Please, just take the damn money.

Finally, he releases Addison and takes the cash. He opens the gas station's back door, sternly looking back at Addison, "I'm warning you, I let you off easy this time, but if you pull something like this again, I will call the cops."

The door slams shut behind him, leaving just the two of us. The air seems to thicken. She refuses to look at me, even as I hand her backpack to her. She starts reaching out for the backpack with her right hand, before quickly taking it with the other.

"You alright?"

She bites the inside of her cheek, slightly nodding, "I'm fine."

"He didn't," I hesitate, "Hit you or anything, did he?"

At that, she finally meets my eyes. A small smile plays on her lips, "No."

"It's getting late, let me drop you somewhere safer."

She slings the backpack over her shoulder, "Don't worry about it, I can walk."

I stare at her incredulously, "I won't leave you here by yourself. Do you have any idea what kind of people live in this part of town?"

I nervously look back, unable to see it, but hoping my car is still where I left it.

Her eyebrow arches up, "I live in this part of town."

Well, shit.

"I didn't – I meant–"

"Save it," She rolls her eyes, walking past me, determined to start her journey presumably back home.

I call out to her, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you." She ignores me, walking further away.

Why are you so stupid, Damien?

I groan, jogging to catch up to her.

"Look," I say, falling into step with her stride, "I'm either going to walk you home or drive you home. It's up to you."

She halts, turns around to stare at me. Unblinking.

After what seems like an eternity, she finally decides, "Fine! Let's take the car. The faster I get this over with, the faster I can have some peace and quiet."

As she storms towards the car, I can't help but do a little victory dance behind her.

"You coming?"

I immediately stop dancing, pretending to stretch.

"Yep!"

Once we both have our seatbelts fastened, I start driving. She navigates the way to her house. After the second turn, I hear her mumble. It's so quiet that I think for sure that I imagined it. But then she says it again – this time I catch the words.

"Thank you."

I spare her a sidelong glance, "What for?"

"For paying back there, and I guess also for driving me."

I smile, "It's my pleasure." Then I think twice, "But now that you've mentioned it, mind telling me what the first aid kit is for?"

"We ran out at home, and the adults are all about safety."

"So they sent you to the store without cash?"

She snaps her head in my direction, "Are you always this annoying? Or is it only once you've done someone a favor?"

I laugh out loud, "This is me twenty-four-seven."

I can't be sure but, through the corner of my eye, I think I see her lips twitch.

"Turn left here."

I turn left and am quite surprised by what I see. The houses on this road are distinguished from others in this area. Unlike the rundown moldy buildings near the gas station, the homes on this road are newer and cleaner. I try to tone down my surprise, not wanting to offend Addison any more than I already have tonight.

"This is me," She points at a double-story yellow house with a long orange flower bed lining the front. She opens the door, "Thanks again."

I grin, "See you around, Swiper."

Addison squints in question, "How old are you again?"

With a chuckle, I justify, "You don't have to be a kid to like Dora."

She doesn't smile, but again, the corner of her mouth tugs upwards. She climbs out of the vehicle, making her way to the house. I take it as my cue and drive off.

My phone dings with a message. I check to see that it's from Steve.

Everything alright? You weren't yourself at practice today.

When I get home, I type out a reply.

All better now. In fact, tomorrow might just be the best practice of my life.

***

Aren't they just the cutest of friends?!

Do you think this truce will last?

- Jane   xoxo