Dres is at all of my meets that week. Having him there becomes less of a distraction and more of an incentive to perform well. Dres makes me want to be the best version of myself.

     The only problem, as it stands, is that the speedo is an entirely too small garment for me to be wearing when I'm around him.

     Dres attends my Thursday meet, even though it's at a school almost an hour away. When it's over, I find his gaze across the pool and hold my hand up, fingers splayed, letting him know I just need five minutes before I head for the locker room to shower. I'm so tired that I don't even dry off properly before pulling my clothes on.

     "Hey," I say when I come up to the bleachers where he's sitting alone. At least at my home meets, he has my mom to sit and talk with. The away ones must bore him.

     He slips his phone into his pocket and stands up saying, "Nice job out there."

     "Thanks," I respond, but it's mostly muffled by a yawn. Dres's expression is affectionate as he reaches for the bag on my shoulder. "What?" I ask as he tugs at the strap till I let go of my grip and he can take my sports bag from me.

     "I'll carry it," he says, like this is casual. Like he carries my bags all the time and opens doors for me and holy Christ like I'm the chick in this not-a-relationship-but-close.

     "I can carry my bag to the bus. It's right outside," I tell him, but don't make any move to take my bag back.

     He says slowly, "You don't have to take the bus back, you know. I mean, if you don't want to." I glance at him curiously and is he blushing maybe? Is Dres nervous?

     I bite back a grin and put my hand to my chest. "Why Dres are you offering to drive me home?"

     He crosses his arms and I'm pretty sure he wants to roll his eyes, too, but refrains. "We're headed in the same direction."

     "You just want forty more minutes of my company. It's okay, you can admit it."

     "Shut up."

     Ha, I am so right. Dres wants to spend more time with me, even if it is cooped up in his car.

     I bump shoulders with him playfully. "I'll ride with you on one condition. We have to stop at a Wendy's. I'm starving." I don't tell him that he could say I had to sit in the bed of the truck and I'd still come with him. Forty more minutes with Dres or just one minute with him, I'm never going to turn that shit down.

     "There's a Panera around the corner. It's not great but its better than Wendy's."

     "Did you not hear the part where I said I was starving? I actually want to, you know, eat."

     "Do you know what fast food does to you?"

     "Yes, because you constantly tell me. It's fine. I've already decided you're going to outlive me." Dres and I are outside now. The team's getting onto the bus and coach is standing there, counting everyone as they get in. "I got a ride, Coach," I say with a wave. "I'll see you in the morning."

     Dres is looking at me as we cross the parking lot. I glance at him, raising my brows questioningly, expecting him to say something. When he doesn't I ask, "What?"

     "You've decided I'm going to outlive you?" he says, surprised.

     Now I'm blushing because I didn't realize how that sounded until now. "Yeah," I say trying to remain calm.

     I can feel Dres looking at the side of my face, see him in my periphery vision, but in remaining calm and trying to appear like there was no implication behind my words I keep my face forward. "Huh," he says quietly. "What if I don't want to outlive you?"

     "Sorry, you don't get a say," I tell him as we get to his truck and climb inside.

     He sets my bag down between us on the seat and looks at me. I pause in putting my seat belt on to stare back. "You can't just decide who outlives who here."

     "Too late, I already did." Dres glares at me like he's genuinely upset I've decided who's croaking first. "We're still going to Wendy's, right?"

     "Sure, make me an accomplice to your fast food-assisted suicide," he says quietly, more like a grumble that I don't think I'm supposed to hear.

     A surprised laugh escapes me. "Wow, looks like my humor is starting to rub off on you, there, Dres."

     He looks at me, expression bewildered. "What like I can't be funny on my own?"

     "I wouldn't say can't but, you know, being funny usually requires a full-range use of emotions."

     "I use my emotions."

     "Sorry, my bad, full-range expression of emotions." Dres frowns slightly. I can't keep a straight face for it, breaking out into laughter. "Wow, you're right, you know what you totally express emotions, too. They're just really scowl-y."

     "Insult me again," he says and now I am crying, too.

     "Oh my god, are you threatening me?" I might be delirious on lack of sleep but this the best moment of my life. "Please say you are."

     Dres is rolling his eyes so hard he might actually move a building two feet to the left telepathically. "Is this what the next forty minutes is going to be like? Because I'm regretting my choices."

     "Well, if we ever get to Wendy's you'll get like a five minute reprieve while I devour my food."

     Dres makes a noise. "Like you don't fully talk while you're eating."

     "It's one of my more endearing qualities."

     "Because there's so many to pick from?"

     I gape at him. "Dresden Gibson, everyone, he'll be here all night." He actually fucking laughs at that. Dresden Gibson laughing! I'm in awe. "You really should laugh more often. Like work it into your schedule or something."

     This silences him and he's back to being cold pressed and in control. "What? Why?"

     "Because it's great," I say like duh as we finally (huzzah, finally) get to Wendy's and god freaking bless there isn't a line at the drive-thru.

     Dres turns to look at me as he pulls up to the menu. "What do you want?"

     "Everything, please." He gives me an unimpressed look. "Fine. I'll settle for 4-piece spicy nuggets and 4-piece regular, baconator fries, a large coke, and the son of baconator burger." His expression goes from unimpressed to appalled like all it takes is the flipping of a switch.

     He maintains the appalled look until I relent, "Alright, fine, I'll order it just pull up." He does as I instruct, rolling the window down. I turn the music down on the radio.

     A woman's voice comes in fuzzy over the speaker. "Welcome to Wendy's, what can I get for you?"

     "Hi," I say. "Can I get—."

     "What? Can you speak louder, sir, I can't hear you."

     I repress a groan, as I hoist myself out of my seat and lean over Dres. He stiffens, an almost imperceptible response, but I feel it where my hands are resting on his knee and shoulder.

     "Hi, I'd like an order of the 4-piece spicy nuggets."

     "Okay," the woman says.

     "And an order of the 4-piece regular nuggets...baconator fries and a large coke...and the son of baconator."

     "Will that be all?"

     Dres makes a noise and I know what he's thinking, so I turn to glare at him. I don't realize till that moment just how close we are, and his breath hits my lips, transporting me back to a week ago when I was in this very car with him, in his lap, and more than his breath was on my lips.

     "Sir?" the woman repeats.

     I flush and turn back. "Yes, that's all, thanks."

     "That'll be $10.85."

     "Okay, great." I return to my seat rather begrudgingly. That's the most I've touched Dres in the last four days. I'm feeling extremely touch-deprived right now.

      "You're pouting," Dres says and there's a slightly amused undertone to his words.

     "I am not," I say crossing my arms because yeah that definitely helps prove my point.

     "You really are," Dres says as he pulls up to the window.

     "$10.85," a young girl says from the window.

     Dres starts reaching for his pocket and I exclaim, "I've got it, I've got it" as I search my sports bag for my jeans where I left my wallet. "Seriously, Dres, it's my food I'm paying for it. Where in the –."

     "Here's your change."

     I look up and Dres is stuffing dollar bills into his pocket. I glare at him. "I hate you."

     "You shouldn't say things you don't mean," he responds with a grin, tapping on the gas so we can move to the next window.

     I locate my wallet and pull out a ten dollar bill, holding it out to Dres. "Here."

     "Put that away," he responds, tone slightly annoyed. He takes the drink from the outstretched hand of the man at the window and places it in the cup holder. A second later he gets the bag of food and passes it off to me.

     "If you're going to spend money on food you might as well eat it, too," I say.

     "No, I can't eat that stuff," he says as he exits the parking lot. I waste no time digging into the nuggets. They're just-out-of-the-fryer hot and so damn good.

     "Have one nugget, please, I insist. Come on, how can you turn it down when this whole car smells heavenly now?" I wave the nugget in front of his face. His eyes dart my way like he doesn't trust my motives before he opens his mouth and lets me feed it to him. I try not to die over this.

     "Don't even say anything. Just experience the amazingness." I give him a second before asking, "Well? What do you think?"

     He glances at me. "I thought I was supposed to just experience the amazingness?"

     "Yeah but now I want to hear you say how amazing it is."

     "It's okay."

     I gasp, reaching in the bag for my fries and the plastic fork that comes with it. "You are a heathen." I open the container and try not to salivate all over my chest. "Alright you have to try these. It will change your life."

     "Yeah, no. I'm not going to eat bacon from a fast food joint. And you shouldn't, either. It's going to make you sick."

     I don't retort, too busy gorging myself on the greasy deliciousness. We drive in silence for all of five minutes, as promised. Then I say, "I am so content right now I'm like a wink away from knocking out."

     Dres clears his throat, and goes, "Have you decided what we're doing Sunday?"

     I frown because I actually haven't. I've made lists of things to do and have eliminated everything on said lists. Halston and Grace have been working over time to help me, but nothing feels right.

     "I'm working on it," I respond uneasily.

     "You know Sunday is three days away?"

     "Yes, Dres. I am aware of how a week works. I'll tell you tomorrow what we're doing."

     His tone is pacifying when he says, "Okay."

     We're already half way home, which I can't believe because the bus ride in had felt like forever. My shifts at work are the same way, though. Classes will feel like forever, but working behind the counter with Dres feels like no time at all. I glance over at him. He's focused on the road and doesn't notice my staring. I think about what my mom had said days ago, about deserving someone who will give me the world.

     "What?" he asks quietly, glancing at me before turning back to the road.

     "Graham cracker bottom, chocolate cake, and a toasted marshmallow icing. The s'more cake."

     Dres smiles at me, warm and infectious, and the only thing he does less than laughing is this. I actually can't recall a time when I ever saw Dres smile. And, really, that's just a sin, okay? He should smile like all the freaking time, and be paid to smile, and just like freeze his face like that. He smiles and buildings collapse because even they're weak at the knees.

     I wonder if someone gives you the world what do you give them back?