hømetøwn

• : / two / : •

He drove in a relaxed, effortless way that would have made Connor faint. His hands curled loosely over the wheel. Whenever we hit a red light he drummed his thumbs against the wheel and looked at me.

"There's a McDonald's somewhere up ahead here," said Brendon. "We should come up on it any second."

"Cool." City lights flickered through the dark windshield.

He glanced over at me. "So what's the story, then?"

"Story?"

"Yeah. How does someone like you end up at a Fall Out Boy concert all by herself?"

I didn't know what he meant by 'someone like you,' but I didn't pursue it. "I came with friends. But I ditched them."

"You ditched them."

"I ditched them."

"Did they insult Pete's new hair color or something?"

"No, if they'd done that, we'd be burying their bodies. It's just. Uh. Well, one of them, this kid Connor, he told me he liked me. Turns out he only brought me to the concert to try to get with me."

"What, he doesn't actually like Fall Out Boy?"

"He says he doesn't dislike them. But yeah, he's not really a fan."

"I'm gonna need his full name, an address, and a sledge hammer."

"Very funny."

"Seriously though, how can you not like Fall Out Boy?"

"I know, right? Not liking them should be, like, a criminal offense. But not many people in my town like them. We prefer riding tractors and eating hot dogs."

"Holy shit, do you live in Anglet?"

"You know the name of my county? Just from that description? God, our reputation must be worse than I thought."

"You do live in Anglet! Wow. Anglet. I don't believe it."

"Why, because I was at a concert?"

"No! No, because – well, I mean, not to be a creep, but most people think there are just a bunch of buck-toothed rednecks from Anglet, and you're actually really, really beauti–"

A car screeched past and he slammed on the breaks.

"Shit, sorry," he said. "Here, the McDonald's is right this way." He pulled into the parking lot. "Drive through or eat inside?"

"Drive through," I said. "And let's just...keep driving for a while. Not going anywhere. Just driving."

For a long moment he just sat there, gazing at me. The McDonald's glowing neon sign cast blue light over his face. His dark eyes were full and dark in the silence.

After a moment, I said, "Or we could eat inside if – if you want. I m-mean, it's not like we have –"

"No, no, let's drive," he said. The edges of his lips pulled upwards. "Sorry, it's just...I don't know, you're so different."

"From what?"

He didn't answer. We pulled through the drive through and ordered our chicken nuggets and milkshakes. Then he drove back onto the main road. Darkness had draped itself over the world. Dapples of light rested and flickered on the windows from buildings we passed.

"Okay, since I'm doing the whole driving thing I probably shouldn't try to eat with both hands," said Brendon. "Help me out?"

"What do you want me to do?"