Pusher

forty-one.

Leaves mushed under my sneakers, already half decayed and turned a grimy brown. The whole forest was cast in a navy gloom. Just enough of the setting sun was cutting through the overcast for me to make out the back of Maverick's jacket and the trail we were supposedly following.

He wouldn't tell me what we were doing out in the middle of the woods. One minute we're just driving around the county, me watching the sun flash behind the trees and him counting mile markers, and then he's pulled off the road and is coercing me into the brush. He went slower in the beginning, periodically checking over his shoulder to make sure I was keeping up, but he lost all concern for me about fifteen minutes in. He worked along the trail at an impatient rate, keen to get to whatever this secret destination was.

I knew this invitation was out of pity. He could tell there was something off about me lately. Of course there was — Ellie and I hadn't spoken at all since our fight and I didn't anticipate that changing anytime soon. He didn't say anything about it, but I was pretty sure Maverick caught me sneaking into the girls' bathroom crying last Tuesday.

"Is this the part where you tell me I'm the only girl you've ever shown your secret hideaway to?" I called ahead. I was teasing him, but my voice was absent of the light hearted humor I usually projected. "I didn't wake up this morning thinking I'd be starring in the newest shitty teen romance flick."

He spared me a brief glance over his shoulder, eyebrows raised, before ducking under a low branch. "Actually, the first girl I took up here was Ally Anderson and it ended with her giving me head. I doubt we'll be able to top that one, Angel, but I'm willing to try if you are."

I caught his suggestive grin and rolled my eyes in response, hiding my slight smile until he was turned back around, tackling the trail. Reluctantly, I hurdled over a fallen trunk and half jogged to keep up with his pace.

By the time we reached our destination, the sun had receded far past the treeline, the dusk leaving us nothing but a faint glow. It was just enough light to see the makeshift fireplace dug into the ground and the dirty bench that sat a few feet from it. A broken cooler was tucked between the trees. Maverick turned towards me, his arms outstretched, wearing a proud smile.

"Are we going to sit around and tell spooky ghost stories?" I asked, my tone patronizing.

"Your looks are scary enough. I think we'll be fine without."

We forgoed the bench all together (probably for the best as it looked like it was falling apart) and Maverick stretched a ratty blanket over the layer of leaves. He sat down and I reluctantly followed his lead. I would have been much better off if we just stuck to the car and spent the rest of the night aimlessly driving.

"What are we doing here, Mav?"

"You seem like you could use a pick-me-up," he shrugged. He was hardly paying attention to me now, too busy digging through his backpack. I hoped he had a flashlight tucked in there somewhere or else we'd be stumbling back in the pitch black.

"You're right, a campout is exactly what I need," I retorted. "Get in touch with nature. Freeze my ass off."

He shot me a look, one sharp enough to shut me up for the moment. He groped around the bottom of the bag some more and then laid out his treasures on the blanket in front of me. A baggie of weed and a bottle of Jack Daniels. "Pick your poison."

"You noticed I've been upset lately so your answer is to get crossfaded together?" My words were slow, completely void of any amusement. I should have just stayed home, sat around mopping in my room like every other night.

"I brought you out here to have a good time, not for a group therapy session. You know I'm no good with that emotional shit."

That was true, but he knew I didn't drink. I must have told him a hundred times. I scanned the tree line to my left, wryly chewing on the corner of my lip, biting down until I could feel the sting. Why was I even here? Is this really my life now?