— BLAKE WITWICKY —

Cars crawled past, the bass of their sound systems thumping over the cobblestones and cypresses, windows down to reveal passengers eager to start their party at Trent's. He hadn't lied about it. It was a private, exclusive party with everyone I deemed to avoid.

A cluster of teens prowled by, two with a bottle of gin in hand and the other smoking cigarettes. I sat back against the soft leather cushions of Corvette and watched the scene. "What am I doing?" I muttered. I was tempted to turn back, cuddle in bed with a book, and forget about this. Perhaps I'd buy a bucket of ice cream from the supermarket on the corner of the street. Or some of my favorite cookies.

I rubbed my face, slid out of the car, and locked it. Music immediately filled my ears. It was loud. Too loud for my liking.

I slowly made my way over to the front door. It was wide open, and people were pouring in. The house was already a mess. It was the same type of house I lived in. There were two levels: an attic and a basement. The garage would no doubt be filled with beer and other bottles of alcohol. Some girls were pushed up against the wall, with their grinding partners holding them into place. Moans and screams came from upstairs, accompanied by the familiar sound of skin slapping against skin.

But the smell of drugs in here was overwhelming. Everyone here had to be high or at least drunk. I cleared the living room and inched towards the garden. While Judy's garden was filled with flowers and plants, Trent's backyard had a massive pool. The male stood on a table, jamming on the loud music. Maybe he wouldn't have noticed if I hadn't shown up at all. Trent swigged from his bottle, then noticed me standing at the pool's edge.

   "Blake! Darling!"

He leaped off the table and ate the space between us with his long strides. His breath reeked with alcohol when he pulled me in a tight hug. "I am glad you came." He offered the bottle. "I am good, thank you." He took another sip, then pushed it into the hands of a passing teen. His arm wrapped around my shoulder, herding me back into the house. "Let me show you something."

Trent took me back to the parking lot and led me to a massive black pickup truck. "What do you think of this baby?" He patted the hood and smiled broadly. "It's gorgeous. You got it today?"

"Last week. A gift from my father." I oohed softly. It was no match for the small Corvette a few cars away. Trent followed my line of sight. "That's your car?" I brushed some strands behind my ear to settle the nerves. "Y-yes... I got it today." Trent sauntered over to where I had parked it. "What kind of engine does it have?" I shrugged. "I honestly don't know. I didn't pop the hood."

"And it still drives?" I nodded. "Quite smoothly as well." Trent looked back at his car. "You'd like to race? See which car is better?"

"You are drunk."

"Come on, darling. I shook my head. He swung an arm around my shoulders, tightly pressing me into his side. "We will when you're not intoxicated. I don't want to sign my death warrant, nor do I want you to die in this stupid game." Trent laughed. The asshole seemed to find everything amusing, even his death. "Fine." He stepped back, took another gulp, then turned around. "Come inside. I will get you a drink." I sighed softly while trailing after him, watching the drunk teens passing by.

Trent halted in the large kitchen and yanked open a cabinet. When he couldn't find what he was looking for, he slammed it shut with enough force to rattle the plates and glasses. "These assholes always take the good stuff," he muttered, turning towards another cabinet. I lingered near the kitchen island, my eyes on a couple making out against the window. The two of them were too drunk and too high on drugs even to realize what they were doing amid the crowd – grinding against each other on the beat of the music, slowly taking off each other's clothes.

"Finally!" I swirled. Trent held up a half-empty bottle of whiskey. "I knew there had to be a bottle somewhere." He poured me a shot and one for himself. I didn't touch the glass and watched him down his, skimming his lower lip with his tongue. "Sam was at the lake..." he began, pouring himself another drink. "You promised to leave him alone."

"So, I did," he assured. "He took off with Mikaela." He snorted and shook his head. "And you're mad about that?" I asked, drawing some circles on the smooth granite counter with my index finger. "No, you know why?" A smirk crept up on his lips. "Because I knew you would come." I opened my mouth to reply but found myself against the refrigerator. I yelped, and my eyes widened. "What are you doing?" He slid a hand up my waist. "Trent..." I warned. My hand wrapped around his wrist. "Stop it." He smiled and leaned in, his body pressing deeper into mine. "Ohh, sweetheart..." His teeth clamped around the skin of my neck.

I tried to push him away by his broad shoulders, but he didn't move an inch. "Trent! I am serious! Stop!" I writhed, but he didn't seem to understand the difference between consent and my desperation to get free.

The sound of a honking car and several people shouting saved me. Trent tore himself away from me. "The Corvette is waking up the entire neighborhood!" Someone shouted from the living room. I fled and burst through the door. My car was flashing its headlights and honking its horn... loudly. It's louder than I have ever seen a car honk its horn. I fumbled for my keys, and with shaking hands, I unlocked.

I quickly slid in and started the car. My hands were shaking, and I barely gripped the steering wheel. This was my damn fault. I should've listened to Sam – to Ron, for God's sake. It was embarrassing. "I am a fucking mess," I scolded, speeding up once I reached the main road.

   I couldn't sleep that night. My thoughts kept swirling on what happened, on my stupidity. I ignored all incoming text messages. Ron had complained Sam had been late, and when I asked about it, he told me he had brought Mikaela home. At least one of us was having luck.

The following day, I sat at the dining table, half dead from the lack of sleep and a scowling Ron on my left. He tossed the newspaper on the table. "What?" Sam asked for a mouthful of toast and scrambled eggs. "The explosion of a couple of weeks ago?" he asked, shaking his head. "The government said it was a gas explosion." I blinked and angled my head. "You think it wasn't?" For the first time, I didn't get a snarky reply in return. "Unlikely. Pictures are going viral about a crater. As if a plane crashed."

"A plane?" Sam repeated, blinking slowly. "Why would the government cover that up?" Ron shrugged and watched his wife sit down in front of him. "You know how the government is," she grumbled, rolling her eyes. "There a bunch of assholes." I stifled a chuckle before my eyes landed on the front page. It was a picture of the building that had collapsed during the disaster. It had happened in two separate locations, so a gas explosion might seem unlikely. "Could it have been a terrorist attack?" I asked quietly. "It's impossible to keep that quiet," Sam countered, frowning.

I turned back to my half-empty plate. The thought lingered, making me forget about the ordeal with Trent last night. After breakfast, I decided to visit the local archive and see for myself if I could find a map of the city. I had nothing better to do with my day anyway, and since Sam seemed to be caught up with Mikaela...

"How was it?"

I halted beside my Corvette and slowly turned. Sam was a few feet away, looking me up and down. "You look like you were run over by a car... twice." I snorted. "Thanks. I didn't stay long. Trent was drunk, but I heard you had luck with Mikaela." I stirred the conversation away from the disaster and what almost had happened. A smile stretched onto his lips. I noted the nervous fiddle with his car key. "She ditched Trent, so I saw my opportunity."

I jerked my head towards the key. "Are you going to see her?" He nodded. "She texted me. Asked if I wanted to hang out at Mall. Where are you going?"

"Archives. There's something I want to see," I replied, yanking the car door open. Sam didn't ask and nodded – his head no doubt too far in the clouds. I slipped in the driver's seat and buckled up. The car rumbled to life. Annoyance. That's what slithered down my spine and prickled over my skin. I watched Sam slip in his car, still smiling. I didn't feel it coming from him. It came from the vehicle. Cars don't have emotions. I shook it off and blamed the lack of sleep. I must have misinterpreted it like the day Sam bought his car.

***

There were indeed maps of the city located in the local archive. The building was only ten minutes away and was in a bustling street. Students often visited it. Either for peace or to look up information about school projects – like I had done countless times. It was one of the few places I enjoyed coming to—the smell of old paper and wood and the lack of intense emotions from people.

I laid the map on a large, ornate, oak wooden table. The map showed sewers and the steel pipes used for gas transportation. While the accidents had happened close to the pipes, it didn't seem like there had been a leak. I swiped my long braid over a shoulder and sighed. "Is it a school project, or do you want to become an engineer?" I swirled. Sideswipe stood a few feet away, his blue eyes sparkling in the sunlight. "Sideswipe." He smirked like a cat and stepped closer to the table, looking down at the locations I had marked with a pencil. "Neither."

"The explosions happened there, wasn't it?"
"Yes."
I grabbed the map and folded it back up. "It was a gas explosion." As much as I tried to lie, I couldn't, so I didn't answer and decided to stir the conversation to something else. "Are you here for a school project?" He angled his head, dark hair shifting with the movement. "Sort off. Why are you looking into the explosions?" Cassiopeia refrained from telling Sideswipe the theory she was slowly starting to piece together – that the government was perhaps trying to cover up something big. She'd already given him some information. He leaned against the table and crossed his arms, smirking lazily—the embodiment of male arrogance. "Barely anything happens in this town, and I have been bored for weeks. If you are looking for something big and secretive, I can help." I cocked a brow. "There just pipes." He leveled me a flat look. "Just pipes? Yes, but you don't deny or lie you are looking for something."

I cradled the map in my arms. "Do you know something?" I retorted. He shrugged. "Maybe." He wasn't lying, and his emotions were calm and curious. There were no ill intentions. "We discussed it this morning at the dining table. A gas explosion seemed... strange to me. I thought it might have been a plane or terrorist attack. The photos that have been released show no signs of a plane. Perhaps it was a bomb." Sideswipe considered. "The explosions, one was a store and the other... a library, right?" I nodded. "Six blocks apart?" I nodded again. "It could've been a terrorist attack." My brows rose. "What makes you think that? "The store I mentioned has a record of criminal activity. In the last ten years, there have been several reports of murders, drug use, and trafficking of weapons. The library could've been a target if any information had been stored."

I had no idea how he knew. "What kind of terrorist or group would've done it? Gangs perhaps?" Sideswipe bit his lip and shook his head. "Let's pay a visit, shall we?" I wanted to object, but Sideswipe already aimed for the door. I quickly followed. "We can't storm in there. It'd be guarded with police and investigators." Sideswipe gave me a side-long look. A look that told me he wasn't accepting a no answer.

"Where is your sense of adventure?" I had gotten myself into this mess, so I took it as a challenge.

Upon our arrival, we stayed at the corner of the street, observing the leftovers and debris of the collapsed building. We weren't the only ones trying to have a look. Many pedestrians had come to a stop to look and snap photos. "There were no casualties," I muttered, primarily to myself. "That we know off." True. The government could've tried to keep that hidden as well.

Standing on the corner of the street, I was now confident it hadn't been a plane or gas explosion. A bomb seemed more like it, and that leaned more to my theory about a terrorist attack. But why and who? Why not be honest about it? Sideswipe slid his gaze over the debris, taking in every detail. "How did you know? About the criminal activity in this area? This store in particular?" He smirked again. "That's something for me to know and for you to find out, sweetheart." I seethed at how he called me, but Sideswipe ignored it and crossed the road.

I tried to keep up with him. "How was your party?" His words were clipped. Again, I scolded myself. Why couldn't I lie?

"I didn't stay long. The male I was going to meet was drunk." I sighed, shaking off the feeling. "Then why bother to go at all?" Because I was stupid and lonely and in desperate need of a friend. Someone other than Sam – leave the past behind and forget about the torture. I hadn't noticed Sideswipe was staring at me until I looked to face him. The pain must have been written over my face because his eyes flickered, and I sensed a spark of anger. "I don't want to talk about it," I said at last, slipping past him.

A cop came our way. "I need to ask you to leave," he said, waving a hand. Sideswipe came up behind me. Close enough that I felt his chest touch my back with each inhale. "They said it was a gas explosion." The cop turned to Sideswipe, brows furrowing. I sensed uncertainty. "Looks more like a bomb has gone off," Sideswipe brawled. The cop glowered, but I sensed the fear – terror. Law enforcement had been told the truth, and they were scared.

"Seems unlikely two gas explosions occurred on separate locations... while it seems the pipes have just gone under a large maintains, just two months ago if I remember it correctly." The cop blinked. Surprised. I remembered it vaguely but never came to this part of the city. "Sir, you need to leave."

I had what I needed, but how was this store connected to the library, and what were they looking for?