Page 11 of The Score

Chapter 5

Pen

Present Time

Bear leads his big sporty SUV down a gravel road. We cut through the forest. It's dark here except for the car lights, and the warm glow of the campground ahead of us.

Our constant chatter quiets as we approach our destination. It's like the beauty of the place took our breath away, and we're too busy admiring what's in front of us.

Bear parks his car in a small terrace made of flagstone and packed sand.

"Wow," I sigh.

Bear turns off the engine and silence envelops us instantly. Whoever the groundkeepers are, they know what they're doing. The place looks idyllic. Among the trees on a wooden platform, the futuristic structure of the geodesic cabin stands out, with its large glass side overlooking the lake. From the top of what looks like a glass door in the middle of it, several rows of string lightsconnect the structure to surrounding trees— they cast a warm shadow onto the platform, the stairs coming down to it onto a terrace, and the few Adirondack chairs surrounding a firepit. Beyond it, the dark lake. If it wasn't for the moon shining above the scene, sparkling on what seems like deep, moving shadows, it would be easy to believe you found a spot where Earth forgot to exist.

Without conscious decision, I put my hand on Bear's arm. It's an instinctual move— there's always comfort and connection whenever one of us seeks little moments of touch like that. And his arm is close to me, tempting me, when his hand rests on the gearshift like this.

He gazes at me.

I grin. "This is amazing. Thank you."

It doesn't escape me that he must have gone to great lengths to find a place like this. I can see it in my mind's eye. Bear looking online for great camping places, asking his network for advice, and making a couple of lists to make sure he didn't forget anything. He's always been thoughtful like that. A dedicated friend. Sweet to no end.

He cocks his head. "What do you want more than anything else in the world?"

"What kind of question is that? You know the answer."

"I know you would love to see your dad doing well. I know you want to make your dad happy, and that you will in any capacity you can. I also know you will struggle with not giving himeverythinghe wants. So play along for a sec. What do you want for yourself?"

I arch an eyebrow. He mirrors me. In his case, it's a challenge. He really wants my answer.

I give in. "What I really want is to feel alive. That's the whole point of being here on this planet, isn't it? So that's what I want more than anything. To have a great life despite the horrors, despite the terrible romantic experiences I had, despite all the existential things that come with being a human in the world."

His smirk stretches into a small smile. "Let's make that happen. I know you're stressed about your dad. That's so much to carry, especially when you're already burnt out from work. If we find a way to make you feel alive, you'll have something to look forward to. And when your dad worries about your happiness, he can remember you're living your best life."

I soften inside. It's the effect of his words, and the warmth radiating from the center of my chest, now that his words nestle there.

Ugh, I'm so lucky we're friends. Leon has always been amazing like that. From the moment I stood with my parents at his doorstep and he gazed at me with curiosity and a hint of suspicion, I knew I'd want him in my life. Nearly twenty years later, I haven't regretted it once.

"What are you thinking?" I ask.

"Let's start with a bucket list." A small wrinkle appears between his thick, dark eyebrows. "Not just a few things you'd like to do before you die. An actual list of things we'll do in the next year."

I search his eyes, trying to connect the dots.

"You mean it," I say.

"I am very serious. You've always been… cool."

"Cool?" I laugh.

"Doing what you enjoyed regardless of what everyone else thought. But, ever since you swore off romance five years ago, it's like you did itmore. From those flying lessons you took one summer to the tattoos you practiced on me—"

"Not the prettiest ones you have, butmywork inked onyourskin—" I make a gesture like my mind is blown.

There's an infinity symbol, and an eye that looks like a simple caricature, and a small musical note that I got to put on his skin. Even the constellations on his left hand. Those are allmine.

He continues as if I hadn't interrupted. "To that one Christmas when you gifted everyone a sweater you made yourself. I know you've probably done mostthings you wanted to do, but I also know there must be things you haven't gotten to yet."