“Doesn’t have to be tacos,” he says. “It doesn’t have to be food at all. Just leave with us.”

Logan’s one of the good guys, and my heart honestly twists with the silent expectation he has that I can be one of the good people, too. He’s a poor soul who believes I have a choice and that’s the reason why I won’t kiss him.

I look over at the car and see three other people who also believe I’m more than what I am. Three other people who see the world in black and white. What they want from me isn’t possible.

I fix my tank top over my jeans and straighten as if to pretend I’m just as tall as Logan. I’m no longer the Abby I wish I could be, I’m the Abby the streets have taught me that I am.

A shadow crosses over his face as I permit Logan to meet the girl the rest of the world is scared of. I hate this, but sometimes even I get tired of lying. “You need to go and I need to work. Don’t stop me again.”

“Doesn’t have to be like this,” he says like I expect of him. Even with jacked-up parents, in the end, he gets to choose the hand that’s dealt to him.

Unfortunately for me... “It does.”

This time, Logan doesn’t stop me and a little part of the Abby I wish I could be dies as he lets me go.

Logan

On the crowded sidewalk next to Isaiah’s car, Rachel and I stare at each other. There’s a million requests in those blue eyes and pride demands that I ignore her and walk away.

People weave around us and the stench of garbage decaying in the summer heat blows onto the street from the nearby alley. A group of drunk frat boys make a few comments about Rachel’s physique and before her cheeks can turn fully red, I ease her closer to Isaiah’s car when a guy way beyond his limit almost crashes into her.

“I tried.” I hope to God that will be enough because I don’t want in on this conversation.

“Go after her.” Rachel points in the direction in which Abby fled. “She needs you.”

Abby rejected me and that hit stung. “Here’s where you’re wrong. Abby doesn’t need anyone. She just made that crystal clear.”

“Rachel,” Isaiah calls out from the driver’s seat. “We need to go.”

Rachel combs a hand through her golden locks then sets her frustrated sight on me. “Please, Logan. You’re the one person she’ll listen to. We all saw it. For one brief second, she considered leaving with us. You can’t give up now.”

Hurt and anger rolls through me. “She’ll listen to any of you before she’ll listen to me.”

“She won’t even talk to me or West about the drugs or her personal life or anything. I’m her best friend and I don’t even know where she lives and Isaiah...”

Has washed his hands of Abby and her drug dealing. We all know it. He’ll always protect Abby as a friend, but he’s drawn the line with the drugs. He’s given up on her when it comes to the dealing and I’m starting to understand why.

“Maybe this is a lost cause,” I say.

Rachel’s hand dips to her stomach like she’s experiencing the same ache I am. “Don’t say that. You care for her and she cares for you. Anyone with eyes can see that, plus she responds differently to you than she does anyone else. Abby will listen to you.”

Abby doesn’t listen to anyone. “We aren’t as close as you think.”

Abby and I met this past winter when I was helping Isaiah and Rachel drag race their way out of a bad debt. She walked into a garage, took one look at me and my life has never been the same since.

“No, I bet you’re closer than even I can imagine. Will you please try? I’m worried. Something was off tonight. She needs us. She needs you.”

I rotate away, walk a few feet, and then jerk back. Rachel’s reading me and Abby wrong. Mistaking attraction for friendship. Do I like Abby? Yeah, but Abby sure as hell doesn’t let anyone close, not even Rachel...not even Isaiah.

“Abby and I play games. That’s it. She’ll listen to Isaiah before she’ll listen to me.”

“Abby ignores Isaiah, but she doesn’t ignore you. Abby’s scared. I don’t know of what, but I saw it in her eyes tonight and you know what I’m talking about. That’s why you started playing those crazy games with her.”

Damn Rachel for this, because she’s right. I was concerned, and I wanted to make Abby smile. I hate caring for people who don’t care for me back. “Abby doesn’t know fear.”

“Rachel,” Isaiah calls out again. “You’re going to miss curfew.”

I crack my neck to the side as a wave of dizziness drains me. Fucking blood sugar. It’s either up or down and I’m screwed either way. Rachel steps toward me, her hand out like she could catch me if I fall. “Are you okay? You just went seriously white.”

“I’m good. Just hungry. You better go before Isaiah tosses you in.”

Rachel rolls her eyes, yet slips into the passenger seat of car. “You’re wrong. Abby’s scared and she needs you.”

She shuts the door and Isaiah immediately pulls away, racing down the road to get his girl home before her parents lose their minds.

“I’m right,” I mutter to the sidewalk. Regardless of what anyone else thinks of me, I know fear. I’ve had that bitter taste in my mouth more often than I care to admit and Abby is one of those people born without the gene.

I glance at the club then down the street to where my truck’s parked. I should leave—prove to my dad I’m responsible. Get in the car, test my blood sugar, fix what needs to be fixed and drive home and be back at a responsible time and eat some more protein and fucking green food.