Page 19 of The Friend Scheme
His phone is the newest model of iPhone, in a clear plastic case. It’s really clean, not a smudgy mess like mine. I have the latest model, too, I just never really clean it.
I feel like I’ve been handed a holy grail.
I could find out his last name with this thing.
He hasn’t mentioned it, so I assumed our no-last-names thing is continuing. I just get a vibe from him that he doesn’t want to talk about his. Still, with his phone, he wouldn’t need to tell me.
I could find it out all on my own.
But he’s watching me warily. If I snoop, he’ll know.
Maybe he’s realized that he’s made an impulsive mistake. Helooks a little pale and keeps glancing my way. It might be usual they-have-my-phone anxiety, but it could also be more.
And I don’t want him to distrust me. I unlock his phone and open the Spotify app. So no funny business. I search forSam’s Townand play the title track. Then I lock his phone and put it back on the dash.
Matt Miller: fully trustworthy.
“What’s this?” he asks as the music starts playing. There’s an unmissable quiver in his voice. I get it, I hate it when people look at my phone, too.
“‘Sam’s Town.’ It’s from my favorite album.”
I feel weirdly anxious.
I hope he likes it.
He must. It’s a slam dunk of a song.
The vocals start, and he smiles. He starts bobbing his head along to the beat.
“I love this,” he says.
“Me too.”
Too soon, we reach our destination.
Outside, I can see a stretch of sand illuminated by streetlights on the footpath. There are a few pedestrians out, but the city is still, and the beach is almost totally empty. We’ve gone past the main hub, so we’re in a much quieter section of town. We’re still in Miller territory, but only just.
Jason turns off the engine.
It’s so quiet.
“Are we even allowed to be here?” I ask.
He shrugs. “It’s the beach, why wouldn’t we be?”
Nobody else is around. It makes me feel like it’s off-limits. Thereare areas of the beach that are busy at night, but this spot, where he picked, is dark and dead.
“You look a little freaked,” he says.
“No, I’m fine,” I say.
“Good,” he says, and he steps out of the car.
I follow him. The air smells salty here, and I can hear the ocean. I’m not really a big beach guy, but I do kind of like it right now. He goes around to the trunk and opens it. From it, he retrieves two towels. He closes the trunk with a too-strong push.
“You want to go swimming?” I ask.
He nods.
