Neither of Landon's friends were at my apartment, as far as I could tell. At least, nothing appeared out of place when I snuck in to grab the small chunk of plastic I had kept on a small shelf in the living room. I had no device to watch it on, and since it couldn't get me in trouble (or so I thought), I hadn't felt the need to secure it somewhere private. Damn, was I wrong.

One thing, though, that I couldn't get out of my head, was why hadn't Landon asked me about the flashdrive when he was busy choking the dear life out of me? Had he forgotten, or did he not need it until after? And if that was the case, why was this rest-station robbery different from the others?

It was dark outside, the cloud-coverage above blocking the stars and moon from view of the surface. There were a few people smoking and leaning up against the wall, and one of the guys tried to catcall me, but I ignored them and headed out towards the street, which was lined with a few lamps that flickered on and off in irregular patterns. I pulled my hood over my head and walked past run-down houses and trailer homes, keeping my eyes downcasted and my ears alert. I wasn't about to meet up with the two boys who were ready to shoot and rape me in the dark behind sketchy apartment buildings - it would be far safer if I took it straight to the person who really wanted the flashdrive. At least, I hoped it was. I grew up with Landon; I knew his little siblings and mother (though not so much his father; that guy was rarely home, and it wasn't like I hung out at his place). The likelihood of Landon trying something on me in his family's home was a lot lower than what it would be if I'd met his friends behind mine.

Friday nights, man. I'm starting to hate them.

Had it really only been a week since Frenice? Better not make these adventures a habit, I thought to myself as I neared an old, white house with a crooked porch and worse stained windows. It wasn't as small as the other homes around here, but for a family of eleven for people the size of Landon, it was tiny. Judging from the lack of vehicles that normally crowded the wide open front yard, I guessed that most of Landon's family was out doing whatever it was they liked to do. I sighed, my shoulder still aching from earlier, though it wasn't as bad as it could have been.

Truly, it was amazing how the porch was still intact. As I made my way up the steps, the wood groaned and creaked under my weight. I wondered if Landon's family crawled out of the windows. Trying to regain my composure, I raised a fist and rapped my knuckles against the metal door. Someone had to be home.

Ironically enough, Landon's dad was the one who answered the door, and I was not impressed. He was the classic definition of a beat-down; tall, big around the belly, bare-chested with a pair of red shorts straining around his waist - oh, and lets not forget the cheap, off-brand beer can in his hand. As far as complexions were, he didn't look much like Landon, with his dark, beady eyes and thin, dark hair, but it was easy to see where the big boy might've got his height.

I pulled my hood down so that he could see my face.

"I'm here for Landon," I said awkwardly when he didn't say anything. He gruffed.

"At least you're pretty," he mumbled beneath his breath. "Landon!" he bellowed. "One of your girls is here!"

"Excuse me, I'm not-" I started, not enjoying the heat rushing to my cheeks. "I would never-"

"Yeah, yeah," Landon's dad waved my comment away. "I was a teenage boy once, too." He stepped back, holding the door open to give me room. I hesitated, not at all enjoying the smell of alcohol and cigarettes that reeked from the inside. I should have been used to it by now, considering where I lived, but I didn't enjoy feeling like I was wading through the stuff. Don't get me wrong, I'm not pure by any means where alcohol is concerned. I guess I'm just more careful than others when it comes down to where the stuff goes - for instance, I'd rather not have my clothes smell like a blind alcoholic.

Still, I forced myself to step inside the worn-down home, and found myself grateful that the only people who seemed to be here were Landon and his dad. The living room should have been spacious enough, but there was a large coffee table strewn with cans and papers, followed by torn-up couches with cigarette burns. Blankets and toys that belonged to an elementary kid were shoved in the corners. The carpet, which might have been a very distinctive grey, was matted and dull with stains. Even the walls contained a washed-out yellow color, worn down from smoke.

And don't even get me started about the kitchen, which was connected to the livingroom to my left. Yeesh, Hadi would have a fit if she saw the condition of those counters.

To my right was a hallway that led through some doors - some bedrooms and a bathroom, I guessed. It'd been so long since I so much as stepped foot inside Landon's yard.

Landon's dad shut the door behind me, either blessedly blind to my initial reaction or just not caring. A wide, twenty-inch screen television was connected to the wall beside me. It looked very out of place in accordance with the rest of the place, and this was where he decided to stand in front of to watch a women's football game. As one of the players kicked the checkered ball across the field, resulting in some very wild cheers and a crude exclamation from whoever was broadcasting the game, I wondered if it was stolen - the television, that is.

"Landon!" the man bellowed without taking his eyes off the screen.

"Coming," a familiar voice grumbled. "But I wasn't expecting anyone-" A door in the very back of the hallway opened, and for the second time in the past two minutes, I felt my cheeks flush. Landon was in nothing but his boxers. Good heavens, it was one thing occasional seeing one of the mindless drunks that would sometimes hang around the apartments. It was another seeing a boy I'd basically grown up with. It was something that I did not want to see.

I briefly looked away, then scolded myself for being such a prude and forced myself to meet his eyes. The big boy froze, and I saw the wariness written across his face as easily as I felt a sudden pain around my neck. He nearly crushed me the last time we spoke.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, keeping his voice neutral.

I need you to leave me the fuck alone, I thought.

"We need to talk," I said instead. Sure that his dad wasn't watching, I fingered the flashdrive in my pocket and brought it out to show him. He furrowed his eyebrows, as if confused, but waved me forward, nonetheless.

"You know the drill, boy," his father said suddenly. "Don't let your mother see her."

I stopped in mid-step, giving him a sharp look. Who the hell did he think I was?

"Listen, I'm not some giddy f-" I began, but Landon was already rushing down the hall. He quickly shook his head and gestured me forward.

"Yes, sir," he said quickly, shoving me towards the hallway. Once we were in his room, I crossed my arms over my chest. At least Landon's room wasn't as bad as the living room - a large futon took up a corner of his room, while he had a desk covering one wall with a laptop and chair with a hamper of clothes on the side. For a boy like him, his room was surprisingly tidy.

Probably for all the girls he has over, I thought absently, thinking about what his dad had been inferring, then jumped upon hearing Landon shutting the door behind himself. I turned just in time for him to shove me back. I bit my tongue, but it didn't stop me from making a noise when his hand hit my shoulder.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded. Taking a moment to massage my shoulder, I held out the flashdrive that everyone seems so hell-bent on getting. He didn't move. "What's that?"

Are you serious? I would have laughed had my shoulder not been so vocal about its current state. I should have grabbed a bottle of pain-relief pills before I left the apartment.

"It's the stupid footage you had your buddies try to retrieve from me," I replied, unable to hide the mockery in my voice. I tossed it at him; instinctively, he caught it. "And if you seriously thought that I would meet them behind the apartments after what happened earlier, then you have less matter in that head of yours than I thought."

"Footage?" he repeated. "From what?"

I narrowed my eyes, trying to figure out if he was joking or not.

"A rest-station robbery," I said slowly. "You didn't know?"

He looked up at me.

"Why would I need footage of some convenience-store theft?"

I chuckled out a laugh.

"Maybe it was something else, then. Look, it's the only flashdrive I have. I don't even have anything to watch these things on, so if you please, leave me alone, would you?"

I made to walk past him to excuse myself, but he reached out to grab my arm. Big mistake. He grabbed my injured one. I pushed myself back, away from his touch, and very much hating the soreness that kept creeping up my arm and neck. My shoulder was swollen, but that didn't surprise me. It was going to be achy for a while. Still, I was determined to baby it, and Landon wasn't helping.

"Tria, what happened to your shoulder?"

I mimicked an awkward bow.

"Courtesy of your precious buds," I said cheerfully. "I don't know what's going on between you lot, and I don't care." I pointed at the little device he held in one of his giant hands. "You of all people should know that I don't buy the whole blackmail shit. I barely know how to manage my phone. And in case you can't tell, if you want me to leave you alone, then that requires you leaving me alone."

Landon gave an exasperated wave of his arms. "I don't know what you're talking about. What happened?"