“Fuck!” You yell as your truck crashes into a tree, hitting your head against the wheel. It’s 10pm, and you’re doing what you do every week, driving around because your dad’s home, eating with your brothers. You hate your dad and after the divorce, he comes around for dinner every Friday.

You get out of the truck as blood trickles down your forehead, only to be greeted by another car on the road.

“Need a hand?” Steve asks with his window rolled down, smirking. You and Steve hate each other.