Chapter 16

Bright and early the day after Christmas, Clarke wakes up. The alarm on his phone chimes and vibrates, with the sun barely peeking through the curtain.

Stretching under the covers, Clarke groans, "Oh! Why did I agree to breakfast?"

Clarke unlocks the screen with his arm extended to take the phone from the nightstand.

"Hey. I need you this morning, so don't bail on me! I'll meet you at Purdue's. My parents fought all night, and they are still at it. I want and need to see you and get out of town for the day. Love you. See you soon!"

Quickly kicking the covers off and throwing on a pair of jean shorts, ankle socks, and a basketball jersey, Clarke makes his way through the house.

The jingle from keys being picked up, Daisy looks from the kitchen table, "out and about already?" she calls out.

Clarke stops and notices Steven sitting beside his mother, "I promised Tracy that I would meet up with her. You know, post-Christmas breakfast. Is that okay?"

In a single nod, Daisy curls her lower lip.

"Thanks, mom. I'll be back eventually. Love ya!"

Running to his car, Clarke squints under the bright Texas sky. Nearly blinded by the reflecting light from the nearby side-view mirrors, he makes a pitstop at a local flower shop. In a rush, Clarke searches for the perfect rose, hoping to find something to make Tracy feel better. Inside the cool shop, he looks over seeing a pink and white blended single rose. It instantly dawns on him to take it.

After he pays for the rose, Clarke hurries to the restaurant. He parks and walks to the door; he finds Tracy sitting under the awning, surrounded by a dated, tarnished wrought iron fence. Once inside, Clarke is greeted by the hostess.

"Good morning, welcome to Purdue's. Would you like to sit at the counter?"

Waving a hand, Clarke turns his head, "No. My girlfriend is outside. I'll join her. Thank you."

The hostess motions to the door for the side dining area, and Clarke listens to the sound of 90s pop music in the background as he saunters outside.

The music, combined with the birds chirping, generates a calming effect. Tracy doesn't waste time without seeing him hide the rose and get seated comfortably, "I hate my parents! All they've done is argue. I don't think they're happy anymore, or rather, I don't think they were ever happy. I can't wait to get the hell out of here."

Uncertain how to react, Clarke hides one hand under the metal mesh table, allowing Tracy to vent without seeing the rose.

"I can understand what you mean by that. I hate Brighton too. However, let's stay in the moment. We are here together right now, and that is something easy to enjoy," Clarke says, glancing at the rose.

A few seconds later, a short, skinny brunette server walks over to them, sees the rose, and smiles, "Howdy y'all. I'm Bridgette, and I'll be your server this mornin'. What can I get ya to drink?"

"I'll have an orange juice, please," Tracy orders.

"You know what, I'll have the same."

Before Bridgette walks away, she turns to Tracy and winks. The subtle indication tells Tracy to look down. She notices that Clarke has his hand well hidden, "what are you hiding?"

"Nothing!" Clarke says enthusiastically.

Lifting her nose more, Tracy nearly gets a quick peek at the rose. Clarke pulls his hand back more, forcing Tracy to sigh, "pretty please, lettme see it."

Barely pulling his arm up, Clarke plays coy with the top of the rose just out of sight.

"Baby! Come on! Don't you love me?" Tracy pleads.

"I do love you, but if you want it, then what will you gimme for it?"

Tracy puckers her lips without hesitating before licking them, "a big fat kiss and whatever you want later."

The only response Clarke gives is a light hum, "how good of a kiss?"

"Give me whatever it is you're hiding and find out. You know when I get to put my lips on yours, I never want to let go."

Suddenly tapping his foot against the concrete, Clarke sits there waiting impatiently. It takes Tracy nearly a minute to notice the thump of his foot against the ground.

"OH!" She proclaims before scooting back, getting to her feet at the same time Clarke gets to his moving the rose behind his back.

Able to take him by the hand, Tracy yanks Clarke in for a kiss. It lasts only a few seconds, but the passion and heat that builds leave him moaning in delight.

"Wow..." he mutters.

Still there with her eyes closed, Tracy whispers, "give me my gift. I've earned it with that 'wow,' don't ya think."

Finally, presenting the rose, Clarke lifts his arm, placing it in Tracy's hand. She keeps her eyes closed. The feel of the soft, damp, skinny stem doesn't settle her curiosity. Squeezing it, one of the thorns nearly pierces the palm of her hand, "ow."

Tracy is stunned when she opens her eyes. The colors swirled and mixed on every pedal, leaving her speechless. Under her nose, Tracy smells the rose as the small gesture relieves the misery from her parents.

"It's beautiful. Thank you, Clarke. I love it!" Tracy expresses, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, leading to another drawn-out kiss.

Out of the blue, the moment ends. The sound of Daisy, Amber, and Casey 'oh and awe' get directed at the happy couple.

"Get bent!" Clarke calls out, not realizing who's standing on the other side of the fence.

"Excuse me! I know you did not mean that, young man," Daisy mentions.

With a hard gulp and a look of concern, Clarke turns to see them and a silent Steven standing there, "I'm sorry, mom."

As she follows the others inside, Daisy gives nothing more than a hand wave. They remain inside, but before Tracy and Clarke can take a seat, more visitors walk by.

"How 'bout that. I do believe that's one Clarke Harbor and Tracy Wilcox, I see," Aurora cries out, giggling.

Irritated that they can't catch a moment alone, Tracy smiles, "hi, y'all."

"They ain't wanting to have us up their asses. Come on, ladies, let's get some grub," Dallas mentions, seeing the lust burning in Tracy's eyes.

Once they're gone, the server returns with their drinks, "do we know what we would like, or do you need a little more time?"

"I want the World's Best Vegetarian Omelette with the Red River Hashbrowns," Tracy orders.

Clarke doesn't look at the menu; he stares at Bridgette while he orders, "I'll have the French Toast with strawberries and bananas with the homestyle fries with maple smoked bacon."

Unable to resist, Bridgette licks her lips. I love that omelet, which is actually more like a frittata, but who cares. I can't get over how it is bursting with red peppers, spinach, cherry tomatoes, and cheddar cheese, and because there's no egg-flipping or folding involved, it couldn't be any easier to make. But that's my opinion."

Quickly jotting their request, Bridgette reenters the restaurant. Under the umbrella, Tracy and Clarke return to small talk.

"You know, I wonder what it's like in places where it actually snows. Like, what would it feel like to go sledding or build a snowman? I hate how every day is the same here. It just rains, or we get a shit ton of tornados. I want to go somewhere where Christmas feels like what Christmas should and does feel like," Clarke begins, followed by a long drink of orange juice.

The light in Tracy's glows brighter, talking about New York, "I know! Living in New York is going to be too cool. I can watch the Macy's Parade in person and the Christmas Tree lighting ceremony. Oh! NewYears' Eve Party in Times Square. It's going to be awesome living in such a place filled with different cultures and exciting new ventures waiting to be discovered."

Something crawls into Clarke's mind at the sound of undiscovered territory, "yeah, about that. I don't want this coming out at a bad time, but when school's out, I'm going to Montana for maybe a month or so to visit Hector. I hope you won't get mad at me for skippin' town the moment we wrap up finals next semester."

"Sweetness, once it's done, I'm off on a plane to New York, and I won't be back until right before we become seniors. Don't get mad at me, but you won't see me at all this coming summer."

All Clarke can do is shrug. There's more gnawing at the back of his mind with more unknowns, including the mystery surrounding the changes for the entire football program. A glazed stare pauses the moment as the breeze picks up, sending dust along the street.

Without a chance to reply, the door flies open with Bridgette carrying an oversized tray with several plates. In her other hand, she flings open a portable safetray. Once the oversized dark brown tray is placed on it, Tracy is handed her omelet with hashbrowns on another plate. She looks at Clarke and places his plate in front of him, "is there anything else I can get y'all?"

"Maybe another OJ, if it's not too much," Tracy asks, wrapping the cloth napkin.

"Sure thing! I'll bring ya each a new glass, and don't fret about the bill. Someone inside already picked up the tab and tip."

Neither Tracy nor Clarke knows how to react. They sit and stare at each other for a moment before Clarke replies, "oh, okay. Tell my mother we said thank you, but she didn't have to do that."

Bridgette smiles, placing the tray under her arm with the safetray clinched in the other hand, "it wasn't ya, momma. Her beau said to cover whatever ya needed, and it would all be on his tab. Mr. Aldis is a regular. He's paid for lord knows how many meals, but I'll let him know y'all appreciate it."

Walking away, Bridgette doesn't return for nearly fifteen minutes. The only reason she checks on Tracy and Clarke is to make sure everything is good.

"Can I take anything or get either of you anything else?" she asks.

Tracy pushes the plate away, with a little more than half of the omelet eaten. The hashbrowns are gobbled down, and Clarke's plate is clean with empty glasses of juice.

"No. I think we're ready to go. Thank you," Clarke says, patting his gut.

"Well, thank you for choosing us this morning. Y'all have a wonderful day, and see you next time."

Rushing from his seat, Clarke pulls Tracy's seat out, helping her to her feet, "my lady. Shall we get going to wherever?"

"We shall, good sir," she says.

Once she's on her feet, Tracy looks at the cracked concrete for a split second, "would you care to go to Waco with me? I don't want to sit in town today. Besides, it's the day after Christmas sale, and I do love finding some deals on my dad's credit card. Anyway, if he and my mom are having trouble, then I want him to pay because I know my mom wouldn't ever do him wrong."

"All I can say is, Waco, here we come. I'll drop my car off, and we'll get going."

Rather than walk back through the dining area, the couple goes to the corner of the wrought iron fence. Clarke hops over with ease and scoops Tracy in his arms, "I like being in your arms," she whispers with her head against Clarke's chest while he turns around.

Back on her feet, Tracy makes her way to the Pontiac and follows Clarke home. Parked at the top of the driveway, Clarke goes to shove the keys in his pocket, but Tracy darts at him.

"We're alone! Let's go inside for a quicky!" she says, looking around to ensure no one hears her.

"Are you sure?"

Quickly nodding, Tracy takes Clarke's keys, searches through the keys, and finally opens the door, "get in here! I said what I want, and I fucking want y-o-u!"

Uncertain about how to react, Clarke gingerly walks inside to see Tracy nearly naked. She stands by the couch, reaching behind her back to unfasten the lacy see-through bra, "if I gotta start alone, I will."

"The Hell you say! Fuck it, if we get caught, it's solely on you," Clarke mentions, shutting the door before he rapidly strips.

When he struts to the couch, covering his private region, Tracy reaches, taking Clarke by the shoulders, turning him, then shoves with all her strength sending him down on the middle cushion.

"Now your ass belongs to me," Tracy mentions as she lowers herself into position with one hand under her to guide Clarke's stiffened dick into her pussy. "Dear God, yes!" she moans.

Thrusting her hips, Tracy bounces faster on Clarke's cock until she reaches an orgasm. As he feels her body trembles in pleasure, Tracy's lifted from the couch. Clarke wraps his arms around her hips to hold her steady until she's pinned against the wall.

"Oh. I think I'm going to enjoy this a lot," Tracy says, biting at her lower lip.

With each thrust, Clarke pushes deeper to push his body to the breaking point. Every inch of his long, thick shaft pushes Tracy's pussy walls between the point of pleasure mixed with pain.

The only noise from Clarke is hard grunts when he begins shoving into Tracy again. Continuing to moan, she digs her manicured fingernails into Clarke's shoulder blades, but before she realizes it, Tracy feels Clarke slip out of her body, "what the..."

In one final groan, Clarke barely gets his dick out of her body before he cums.

"We didn't have any protection. That's why I pulled out."

The realization dawns on Tracy, showing her eyes, "oh my God. I totally didn't think about it like that. I'm glad one of us kept a cool head."

"I told you once before I'd never ruin your dreams. The last thing we need is to get stuck living in Brighton. You're way too important to me to let you screw up."

Touched by his words, Tracy places a hand on Clarke's cheek, followed by a kiss, "Exactly why I love you and knew you are the perfect guy for me."

Sitting on the floor, both lovers stare into each other's eyes until Clarke collects himself, "C'mon, we need to get going before we get caught."

"Noted! God, I could certainly go again. I love you so much, Clarke. You are the perfect guy." Tracy mentions reaching out, touching Clarke's cheek as he blushes.

Quickly getting dressed, they rush away from the house in Tracy's car. With the music up and windows down, Clarke enjoys listening to his favorite band, Adelitas Way. Tracy focuses on driving but quickly notices that Clarke can't carry a tune to save his life. She chuckles as they get closer to Waco.

Clear skies give way the entire way to downtown. As people come and go, the young couple begins their day date with a kiss. Tracy wraps her arms around Clarke, gazing into his soft eyes. Clarke stands there, feeling his heart beat a little faster and his palms sweaty.

"So, where do we go first?" He asks.

"I need shoes! Maybe a new purse, and I want to get an early start on a dress for prom. Plus, maybe I can find you some vintage clothes. I miss my baggy jean-wearing, over-shirt-wearing little punk attitude guy. Oh, and maybe a razor; I'm not a fan of this budding beard. Not at all! I want my babyfaced Clarke!"

After he stops snickering, the embrace is released, and Clarke follows Tracy to a shoe store. The entire time she tries on shoes or bends over, Clarke stares are Tracy's ass, feeling his manhood twitch in his shorts.

"Damn, you've got such a nice ass." He says, sending shockwaves through Tracy.

"Seriously! You've been staring at my ass the entire time? You've ignored me when I've asked you about what you like?"

Listening to him innocently whistle, Tracy playfully slaps Clarke on the arm, "You are such a jerk, but I love you for it. Was it a good view?"

"The best! Your ass is perfect! Nice and bubbly with an urge to slap it and go 'hot stuff' and rub it."

Both cheeks instantly glow red as Tracy isn't sure how to react. Her jaw barely dips open without a noise.

"What? I call it like I see it. You've always had a nice ass, and now I get to hit it. So good!"

Able to finally gasp, Tracy slaps one hand over her mouth while her other hand nudges Clarke's shoulder.

Removing her hand over her mouth, Tracy's in shock, "You can't be serious. Like that takes some massive balls." She stands there, crossing her arms, ready to fire back, "Then again, how you feel inside of me, I guess it is good I have some meat on my ass. Those big hands go along with that massive 'thing' between your legs."

From the other aisle, the couple receives a whistle and off-collar comment from a local teenager, "that sounds so hot y'all."

Embarrassed beyond expectations, the shoe shopping ends abruptly. Clarke and Tracy rush from the store, laughing as they speed walk down the sidewalk into a vintage clothing store.

When the first brush of air conditioning hits their bodies, Tracy guides Clarke to the late 90s section, where they look through some Tommy Hilfiger and JNCO jeans.

"Babe, I don't think this fits me anymore," Clarke says with a distasteful expression.

Picking up a hanger of a dark pair of Tommy Hilfiger jeans with a red and white stripe down the crease. She pulls off the hanger, holding them to Clarke's hips, "Oh yeah, I like these. Low rider jeans, show off those hips, baby. Oh yeah, you're trying these on, and you best walk out of there without a shirt on."

With a huff, Clarke takes the jeans into the changing room. He ditches his shirt and takes a moment to slip them onto his body, but he holds the jeans up to keep them from sliding off his hips. Backing out of the changing room, Clarke is met with a sexualized whistle.

"Those look good on you, ba-bee!" Tracy says, "Turn around so I can see them muscles!"

Clarke turns around to be met with Tracy taking a photo with her phone, "Hey! You didn't say anything about humiliating me!"

Unable to hear him, Tracy locks her phone. She stares at his toned body, ready to drool. It leaves Clarke feeling uneasy. He quickly turns back around, shutting the changing room door.

In his shorts and shirt, Clarke walks back without the jeans.

"Hey, where are the pants?" Tracy asks, "They look fucking hot on you! Get them, and I'm buying!"

Unwilling to argue, Clarke turns around, picking up the jeans. When he exits the changing room, Clarke looks around for Tracy and finds her searching through shirts. When he ambles to her, Tracy pulls out a black Bad Boys baseball button-up jersey with red lettering.

"I like this. I don't know why but I really, really like this one. I'm getting this one too. Oh! You need street boots! Tan Lugz or Timerlands, that should do the trick."

"That sounds a little over the top," Clarke suggests.

"PFFT, as if! You can trust me. Now, gimme the Tommy jeans and go find a pair of boots. Go, go on!"

Uncomfortable, Clarke does as he's told.

In the back of the store, Clarke begins to try on different pairs of Lugz boots. When he looks down, there sits a black pair he instantly falls in love with and tries on. The soft memory foam lining the inside leaves his feet feeling relief. Ignoring the price, Clarke slips out of the boots and places them in the box. Before he rounds the corner, Clarke bumps into Tracy. She glances at the boots and returns to the other items in her arms.

"Oh yeah, this will be hot. After we finish, you are so changing into these, and oh my God, you're going to be so fucking smoking we ain't making it home without doing it again."

All Clarke can do is mumble under his breath without knowing what to say.

Ready to check out, they walk through the store, but before they make it to the end of the aisle, Tracy stops when Clarke notices something small and sleek just for her.

"You got to get this!" Clarke tells her, holding up a satin emerald nightie with slits on both sides with a low cut that will nearly expose her nipples.

"Um, I don't think so! I'll look like a slut in this thing," Tracy expresses, feeling her face glow.

Shrugging his shoulders, Clarke holds it against Tracy's body.

"I think you'd look better than perfect. I wouldn't be able to keep my hands off your body."

"SOLD!" Tracy snatches it from his grip and marches to the register.

The smile on Clarke's sends chills down Tracy's spine. She knows wearing the nightie will make her uncomfortable, but she's willing to try it once for Clarke. Once everything is paid for, Tracy takes the bags and hastily shoves them into the trunk of her car.

She begins to think about what to do next. The sight of a movie theater gives her the idea to treat Clarke to a foreign movie. Once she has him by the hand, they cross the street, but before Tracy can say which movie and buy the tickets, Clarke beats her to the punch.

"Hi. Two tickets for Letter to America, please."

"Sure thing, that'll be twenty-even," the male ticket attendant mentions while pushing the buttons on the register.

Paid and walking inside, the couple takes each other's hand until they march through the concession stand. Tracy selects a small popcorn. Clarke gets a medium diet Pepsi for Tracy and a medium cherry slush. Again Clarke pays for it.

Down the hall, they make their way into theater number three. Seeing no one else in the dank, musty-scented theater, they sit at the top in the back corner. Clarke excuses himself to use the facilities before the movie starts.

When the lights dim, the fun begins. Tracy reaches over and takes Clarke's face, mashing their lips together.

The mood goes from relaxing to hot in a matter of seconds. Clarke runs his hand from her hips under her shirt, copping a feel over her bra. Tracy begins to moan and returns the favor by rubbing her hand over his crotch, feeling it get hard from the groping.

Tracy leans over from the kiss, and nibbles on Clarke's ear, whispering, "I want you again!"

"Go for it. I want you so bad, and while I was away, I got two condoms. I knew we had to do it here. So wrap me up and have your way," Clarke whispers, still massaging Tracy's breast.

Removing her hand from his private region, Tracy slips her hand into the pocket, taking both condoms.

"I can't believe we're about to trust bathroom protection. You better pray these work because I am not a fan of pulling out," Tracy whispers as she rips the wrappers and rolls them over Clarke's cock. Sliding his shorts down, he waits for Tracy to strip and climb onto his lap.

Once she lowers down, inserting his shaft into her body, Tracy slams down, quickly working at a quick pace to push an early orgasm. Clarke lifts her shirt and bra, taking a breast into his mouth, nearly forcing Tracy to cry loudly.

Utilizing the bass when music blares throughout the theater, Tracy's body responds. It pushes her over the edge to where she bucks her hips harder than ever, grabbing Clarke's hair and moaning as she cums.

"GOD, YES!" She moans as her body shakes.

"Don't stop, not yet, please, baby, do not fucking stop!" Clarke begs, panting heavily.

In one final groan, Clarke explodes into the double protection. He feels the sweat dripping from Tracy's body and settles in the seat. Feeling the dampness mixed with bodily fluids, Clarke helps Tracy to her feet. He picks up her clothes and doesn't waste time slipping off the condoms.

One feels busted, and it relieved the inner one lasted. Clarke says nothing to Tracy and dumps them and the wrappers into his nearly empty slushy cup. Their bodies continue to relax once they change seats and try to get into the movie.

By the end of the first act, boredom kicks in until Clarke feels his phone vibrate like crazy. It buzzes enough to draw their attention away from the movie and bring excitement to their day.

"Holy shit! Do I see that right?" Clarke begins, "They hired a new football coaching staff already?"

Tracy looks over the messages from the group chat, "Yes. Holy hell, sweetie, you're needed at the training facility; it says tomorrow morning. I hope they got someone good to help you find a college near me."

Clarke's memory of the summer comes rushing back, "I'm glad you said that. I need to tell you that this summer I will hardly be here at all. I saw in the chat that the new coach already said we're going to be on a college campus going over the new schemes. That'll be after I come back from Montana. I'm spending time with Hector for a few weeks."

What Tracy says next takes Clarke by surprise, "Um. I guess I need to tell you that I will be in New York basically until school starts. The acting classes I'm taking are advanced. My tickets and whatnot should arrive soon. So, our summer together isn't going to happen. I'm sorry, love."

"Don't be sorry at all. We're preparing our lives for the next level. I love the fact I'm dating a future actress. Maybe I'll forego college and be your house bitch," Clarke jokes and watches Tracy trying to cover up a smile.

"You'd look sexy in an apron and nothing else. You can be my sweet lover who tends to my every need. Now, get your ass over here to please your sexual mistress."

Shifting in his seat, Clarke leans in, kissing Tracy's neck, "What do you need, my Goddess?"

"Finger fuck me! Prove that you'll do whatever I need to make me feel wanted."

More than willing to comply, Clarke undoes her pants, pulls the zipper down, and shoves his hand under her panties. Once his finger is deeply inserted into her pussy, he wiggles and fingers her rapidly, causing Tracy to pant deeply.

Tracy's lip quivers with her hands tightly gripping the chair's arms. Eyes shut and breathing erratically, Tracy's body tenses until she feels the orgasm rush from her body. Clarke sees her body go limp.

"Oh, you're lucky; I'm stuck over here, frustrated, wanting more."

More than willing to give him a hand, Tracy reaches under Clarke's shorts and boxers, beginning to jack him off, "I don't care for swallowing. I'll use my cup when you need it."

Not complaining, Clarke leans back in the seat, breathing quickly, enjoying Tracy's hand lightly squeezing the more she lifts and dips her hand around his cock. For several minutes Clarke feels his body begin to swell with anticipation.

"Faster! Go faster; I'm almost there."

It only takes another minute to push Clarke to the point of feeling that he's going to burst, "Get the cup. Oh my God, this is amazing!"

Quickly Tracy moves the cup under the head of his dick right before he expulses his seed into the icy beverage. Once it stops, Clarke eases his breathing.

"Okay. I think we're good here for the day. I don't know about you, but I'm getting hungry. How does Five Guys sound? I could use a burger and cajun fries with a chocolate milkshake."

"Whatever you want to eat, we'll get. Let's go!"

On their feet, they leave the cups and popcorn on the floor. Once they're outside, traffic has picked up. Unwilling to battle to pull out into the chaos, Tracy and Clarke walk the six blocks to the restaurant.

It's dead inside, they're the only customers, and Tracy walks to the cashier to place her order.

"Hi. I'd like a grilled cheese with jalapenos, grilled onions with green peppers, a regular-size drink, and no fries."

"Okay, and for you, sir?"

Clarke strolls to the counter, "Yeah, I'll take a double bacon cheeseburger with extra bacon, onions, lettuce, barbecue sauce, and mustard with a large cajun fry with a large drink, please."

The cashier reads the order back. Clarke pays for it and then takes the ticket with their order number. While they wait, Tracy enjoys a handful of peanuts. Clarke takes it upon himself to pour his and Tracy's drinks.

It doesn't take long for their order to be called out. They sit and enjoy the food, giving people around Waco the time to reach their destination. The busy streets die down enough to easily make it back to the highway. She lets Clarke drive back. Along the drive back to Brighton, Tracy's phone rings.

"Shit! It's my mother!" Tracy yells, "Uh, hi, mommy, what's up?"

"You have some paperwork from New York. You need to get back here. It's formed for the dorm and choosing the performance piece you're doing for the Summer Showcase. How excited are you?"

Mouth covered, Tracy can't believe how soon things are approaching. The guilt inside soars, knowing she'll spend an entire summer away from Clarke and home, but on the other hand, the excitement about spending time in New York City brings a sensation of pride.

"Yeah, I can't wait to get them filled out. Anyway, I'll be home in about an hour, mom. I hope you don't mind, but I ate dinner with Clarke. We've had a great day date. I love you. I'll see you when I get home. Bye."

"Bye. Be careful are your way home. I love you too."

The call ends, but Clarke doesn't speed from Waco to Brighton. He's dropped off at home, relaxing with music in his bedroom. He texts back and forth with Tracy until they fall asleep midway through a conversation about prom.