I glanced at him, but he was looking towards the parking lot. He had a stoic expression on his face.

When comprehension dawned, I punched him in the stomach.

Corrigan didn’t grimace, cringe, or laugh. He sighed and moved towards his car.

“You’re a dick,” I declared.

Corrigan rolled his eyes and muttered, “Get in the car.”

Inside, I said further, “No, I correct myself. They’re the dicks.”

“She’s not a dick,” Corrigan said quickly, but seemed to stop whatever else he was about to add.

I grinned now, “So you’re the only one.”

“Come on.” he whined and wheeled out of the parking lot.

“Look, just—why do you have to bring them around?”

Disbelief crossed his face and he asked, “What are you talking about?”

“She knows about my parents. If you were going to drop her, why’d you bring her around in the first place?”

He shrugged, but asked, “Why do you care? It’s not like you’re nice to any of them.”

I laughed, “I just laugh…at them. And have contempt for them.”

Corrigan grinned from the corner of his mouth. As he pulled into the mall’s parking lot, I remarked, “You know, if you were with her to make Becky Lew not your girlfriend, you put her through hell.”

He glanced sharply at me, but didn’t say anything.

“I’m just saying…she put up with a lot. Me. And you know that Lew’s making her life hell. Not to mention, Lew’s mindless bubble-heads.”

Corrigan grinned and said, “Can we not talk about this? This is weird.”

That was true.

“I’m a little off—parents and all,” I relented.

Corrigan glanced at me, closed his mouth, and then wrapped an arm around my shoulder. Instead of the usual squelching hug, it was a gentle touch.

It was gone just as quick as it came.

Corrigan coughed and said, after a brief hesitation, “Yeah...uh…how are you doing with that?”

“Drunken orgies was the way to go.” And I thought, for a moment, that the orgies had gone too far.

“Sweet,” Corrigan remarked suggestively. “That’s what I thought.”

And we were back on familiar ground.

“So tell me—how many times with the latest reject?”

“Six.” The answer was so quick, I was taken back a little.

“Six?” I narrowed my eyes. “You’ve been waiting for that question, haven’t you?”

Corrigan didn’t reply, but suddenly stopped, threw an arm over my shoulder and leapt onto my back.

“Oh!” I exclaimed, but grabbed his legs just in time.

We were the picture.

Corrigan was known as the player with a temper while I was known for having my walls up against people. My second shrink had told me that I set up multiple walls to close myself from others. People needed to break through the walls before they found me, but Corrigan and Bryce had never needed to break through the walls.

I rather thought it was because of this—Corrigan had been jumping on my back since seventh grade. The abrupt piggy-back ride brought a delighted smile to my face. It had been too long. We’d become almost adults for too long.

Corrigan pretended to swap my butt as he laughed in my ear, “Giddy-up, ho-bag.”

“You’re the whore, playa,” I retorted with no heat behind my words. Laughing, I arched my back and threw him off.

He caught himself just before he would’ve fallen and managed to keep one leg around my waist. With my momentum, both of us fell on the cemented parking lot.

Still laughing, I staggered to my feet while I turned and kicked him in the side.

He howled, but lunged for my feet the next instant.

Not wanting to fall on my back, I fell forward onto Corrigan’s stomach.

Corrigan caught me just before my elbow connected with his groin, but he flipped his body as a wrestler and had me pinned to the ground instantly.

“Am I supposed to tap out?” I asked as I panted. I knew that I had a stupid grin on my face, but I didn’t care at that instant.

“Tap out, bitch.” Corrigan growled, but giggled at the end. This made me giggle.

We hadn’t wrestled like this for years. This was the kid that I had befriended so many years ago. This was the real Corrigan behind all of his walls that I sometimes forgot were there.

All of the sudden, I felt my throat choke and I blinked back some tears.

I scrambled to my feet and started to walk away quickly. Horrified.

“What—Sheldon!” Corrigan called after me as he jogged to catch up. When he saw my tears, he fell silent beside me.

He looked away. I looked the other way.

When we entered the mall’s food court, Corrigan cleared his throat and looked slightly embarrassed.

“What?” I asked forcibly, my voice hoarse.

He looked away again. If I hadn’t known better, I would’ve thought that he looked panicked.

“What?” I said again and was grateful that my voice sounded more normal.

He stuffed his hands inside his jeans, hunched his shoulders, and asked in a quiet voice, almost too quiet for me to catch, “Are you…I mean…never mind.”

“I’m good. Don’t worry,” I murmured quickly and bumped my shoulder to his.

A grateful smile spread over his face and he bumped back. From there a short arm wrestling match ensued and it ended with Corrigan getting another piggy-back ride in the mall.

We walked around for an hour. I modeled some lingerie to his wolf whistles. He tried on some flannel pants to my suggestive comments about the crotch-flap. Even though the modeling had started as a joke, Corrigan bought a pair of flannel pants because of ‘easy access.’

The clerk had given us both a knowing and slightly disapproving look, which

Corrigan had loved.

From there, he brought some smoothies and we ended our mall tour in the tattoo parlor. Corrigan already had two tattoos and was considering a dragon design for the back of his left leg.

I briefly considered a tramp stamp, but decided against it. Even with all my hype, I wanted to get a tattoo when it meant something.

We left the mall, stopped at a place for sub sandwiches, and headed to my house.

Just as Corrigan turned into my driveway, we both heard a sudden pop and the car swerved. Corrigan cursed and slammed on the brakes. He was out of the car in the next instant and I followed to hear him cursing some more.