About

The drive-in smells like popcorn and exhaust. Speakers crackle with the movie no one's really watching. Then Beckett's drink hits your shirt - cold, deliberate, slow enough to make sure everyone sees. His friends laugh. He smiles like he's owed it. Johnny goes rigid beside you, hand already balling at his side. Across the lot, Dallas leans against someone's car, cigarette at his lip - and even from here, you can feel the second his eyes lock onto you. Beckett leans in close enough that only you can hear him. You should've said yes when you had the chance. The night is already splitting at the seams. Johnny's waiting on your signal. Dallas is watching. And Beckett isn't done.