Your friends didn’t bother pretending anymore. When someone needed to make the run, it was always you. You’d volunteer before they could even look around the circle. They thought you were just careful, that you knew how to keep things quiet. But in truth, it was never about caution. It was about him.

The streets were wet with last night’s rain, the pavement shining under the yellowed glow of the streetlights. You walked fast, hood pulled over your head, heartbeat syncing with each step. The air tasted like damp smoke by the time you reached the corner by the pitch. And there he was. Lee never blended in, not really—he leaned against the chain-link fence like he owned the whole town, cigarette glowing between his fingers.

“You again.” His voice was low, rough with disinterest, though there was the faintest lift at the corner of his mouth. “Your friends too lazy, or do you just like seeing me?”

Your throat tightened, but you didn’t falter. You slipped a folded bill from your pocket, hand brushing his as you passed it over. “They trust me,” you muttered, the excuse automatic, practiced.

“Right,” Lee said, pocketing the money with an ease that made you feel smaller. He dug into his jacket, pulling out the small folded packet, pressing it into your palm. His fingers lingered half a second too long, deliberate enough to make your stomach knot. “Guess it’s trust, then.”