“Isn’t that basically what I’m doing now? Taking generals. And I like nothing.”

I wasn’t sure what to say to him. It was obvious he had been beating himself up over this for who knew how long. I rolled onto my side too and put my hand on his arm. “You’ll figure it out.”

“Everyone keeps telling me that, but what if I don’t?”

This was his fear. I could see it in his eyes and I wished I could grab that Heath Hall mask and it could somehow work its magic on him too. But I knew it wasn’t that simple. Nobody’s fears were. Mine weren’t. When tonight was over, I’d still have to figure out a way to face my parents.

“I know,” he said, and rolled onto his back, my hand dropping into the space between us. “I’m not as fun when I’m serious.” He jumped to his feet before I could tell him otherwise and quickly pulled me up to mine.

“Dance with me.”

“What?”

“This is my favorite song.”

The music was still in Spanish. I laughed as he pulled me into his arms and began swaying us to the beat.

“Really? Your favorite?”

“Yes. Listen.”

For a second I thought he was serious. He sounded so serious. So I stopped talking and listened to the words . . . that I couldn’t understand.

He gave a breathy laugh and I hit his chest, narrowing my eyes at him.

He continued to sway us and started singing quietly in English as though he were translating it for me. “Her stare can crash cars, fall trees, break hearts.”

I tried to hold my narrow eyes, but I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Her laugh can crash cars, fall trees . . .” He leaned in close, his lips next to my ear. “Break hearts.”

I closed my eyes, tingles spreading down my spine as his breath touched my neck. Then my stomach growled loudly and he said, just as softly, “You think you could eat half a pie?”

I pulled back. “What?”

He released me from his arms. “Half a pie. Do you want to eat one?”

“Like a pizza or the fruit variety?”

“Are we from New York? Of course I mean a pie as in apple or pumpkin or berry.”

“Do they still refer to pizzas as pies in New York or is that only in the movies?”

“I don’t know, but this is a competition, Moore. Can you eat half a pie or can’t you?”

“I can eat it faster than you, that’s for sure.”

“That’s what I thought. I’m going to take you—well, have you take me—to the best place for pie that exists in this town at eleven o’clock at night. You can only get to it by car, so it completely goes with the theme of your night.”

“Okay, Holt. Let’s go have a competition.”

“Denny’s?” I asked, staring at the sign.

“It’s eleven o’clock at night. What did you expect, my grandma’s kitchen?”

“I expected a secret location.”

“Well, in twelve hours I can take you to a secret pie location, but this is the best I have right now.”

We got out of the truck and walked to the glowing building. “Do you really know a secret pie location?”

“No, but I love that you thought I did.”

“I didn’t.”

“You totally did.”

The apple pie was at our table in ten minutes as most pies that have probably been sitting in the freezer for a couple days can be. Jackson cut the pie in half, being careful to measure it just right, then scooped one section onto his plate and another onto mine.

“That’s a lot of pie.”

“Are you already giving up?”

My stomach rumbled, and he laughed.

“Is it a timed event or are we just seeing who can eat the most?” I asked.

“Of course it’s a timed event. Can you call something an event if it isn’t timed?” He picked up his fork.

“Oh, we get to use utensils?”

He raised his eyebrows. “You don’t want to use utensils?”

“I do. I just thought you couldn’t call something a pie-eating competition unless utensils weren’t involved.”

“Okay, crazy. No utensils.” He put his fork down along with his phone, where he’d pulled up the timer app. “Ready?” he asked, raising his eyebrows at me.

I nodded.

“Go!”

He dug his face in the pie while I sat there and watched. I hadn’t even been tempted to compete with him, which wasn’t like me. Maybe things were happening tonight. Good things.

I wondered how long it would take before he realized I wasn’t doing it. I picked up my fork and had a few bites. It was pretty good. I didn’t think I could eat the whole thing anyway. That much sugar in one night after so many months off it would not feel good.

“Did you just prank me?” he asked after about ten seconds. His mouth was surrounded by pie filling. “That was good. I did not think you were going to do that. Now I look like an idiot.”

“Isn’t that your favorite?”

He picked up a chunk of pie with his hand and threw it at me. It stuck in my hair.

“Gross.” I was trying to get it out when he came around the table to my bench and went in for a hug.

I scooted back against the wall. “Don’t you dare.”

“I can’t kiss you on the cheek?”

I picked up a napkin off the table and swiped it across his mouth. He took over the job, wiping his mouth clean, his eyes lit up in that happy way they did that made me warm inside.

“Can I take you somewhere?” I asked suddenly.

He looked at his phone. I did too. It was eleven thirty.

“You have to go. Never mind,” I said. “Another night.”

“You can take me somewhere. I can be a little late.”

“Your parents won’t get mad?”

“They might, but I’m willing to risk a possible grounding.”

“I’ll probably be grounded for the rest of my life anyway, so it’s not like you’ll get to go out anytime soon.” I realized what I just said and amended it with, “I mean, with me. You can obviously go out with other people.”

He gave me a lazy smile. “Let me pay the bill and clean up my face. I’ll meet you in the truck in five.”

Thirty-Two

I parked the truck in the dirt clearing and turned off the engine. The radio went off as well and the silence seemed loud in the cab.

“Where are we?”

He’d probably never come to the lake on this side. The lake wasn’t even visible from where we’d parked. It was my secret little swimming cove. “Come here. I want to show you something.” Before we got out, I pointed to the mask. “Maybe you should put that on.”

He laughed. “I’m good.”

“Wait, have you never worn it before?”

“Do you know how many people have worn that mask? The last girl who wore it was a little sketchy.”

I hit his arm and he laughed.

“I don’t believe you’ve never worn it.”

“There’s a process, a protocol. You have to get nominated and then approved by the keeper. I don’t want to mess with the power of the mask, throw off the fine balance.”