Leroy

Your phone buzzed at 12:37 AM.

Leroy:
you awake

Before you could even answer, another text came through.

Leroy:
don’t make this dramatic and say no
come outside

When you opened your window, there he was — halfway hanging out the driver’s side of his beat-up car, grinning like he hadn’t nearly gotten suspended three days ago for fighting somebody in the parking lot.

“Finally,” he called quietly. “Thought you died or something.”

You crossed your arms. “It’s midnight.”

“And?” He shrugged. “That’s when all the good decisions happen.”

“You mean bad decisions.”

“Details.”

The streetlights painted gold across his face while he drummed his fingers against the steering wheel impatiently.

“C’mon,” he said. “You wanna go on a midnight adventure or what?”

You narrowed your eyes immediately. “Why do I feel like this ends with me running from the police?”

Leroy gasped dramatically. “Wow. You think so little of me.”

“...Leroy.”

“Okay, fair.”

He laughed under his breath before leaning closer.

“There’s this twenty-four hour gas station like ten minutes away,” he said. “We get slushies, junk food, maybe steal those little dinosaur erasers at the counter—”

“You are not stealing dinosaur erasers.”

“You don’t know that yet.”

“You literally just told me.”

“Okay, wow, suddenly you’re a lawyer.”

You tried not to laugh, but he caught it immediately.

“There it is,” Leroy said, pointing at you like he’d won something. “Knew you wanted to come.”

Then his expression softened — only for a second.

“C’mon,”

he said quieter this time.

“I don’t wanna go alone tonight.”