“Wow,” I say with a laugh.

“Franklin was named after the Benjamin Franklin,” Rory says.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. He also discovered electricity and invented the carriage odometer and he’s on the hundred dollar bill.”

“I bet Benjamin Franklin never had to take the bitch seat in a carriage.” Rory brought his Irish setter, Ava, along tonight and apparently she always gets the passenger seat so she can hang her head out the window. “I mean, isn’t it ironic that I’m sitting in the bitch seat while the dog gets the best spot?” I say, making Rory laugh. “My mom would’ve liked your tour. She was real big into history.”

“Where is she?”

“She died,” I say quietly, and Rory gives me a sad look. I tell him about the cancer and how much I miss everything from her macaroni lasagna to the way she braided my hair to how she said I love you every night.

“That macaroni lasagna sounds amazing,” he says, grinning.

“Oh, my mom kicked Martha Stewart’s ass for sure.” I tune the radio from rap to the hard rock station. “Ror, who is Abby Winchester?”

“I dunno.” He smacks my hand away from the tuner and flips it back to the rap station.

I pick at a piece of duct tape holding the truck’s upholstery together. “Mr. Goodwin sure seemed serious about Jack returning Abby’s phone calls today. She’s practically stalking him.”

“Maybe Mr. Goodwin’s doing some special business with her or something? I don’t know her. She doesn’t go to our school, unless she’s a freshman.”

“I see.”

“Why do you care?”

I tell Rory everything: how Jack didn’t know who I was and how he offered me a private tour.

Rory gives me a worried look. “Jack’s a good boss…but you shouldn’t get your hopes up about him—he never has serious relationships. Well, except for this one girl—Senator Lukens’s daughter. They dated last year. It didn’t end well apparently.” Rory pauses to drum his hands on the steering wheel. “So he wanted to take you on a private tour?”

“Yep. I bet he wouldn’t make me take the bitch seat either,” I taunt.

“Hush.”

I scratch Ava’s ears. “So my dating prospects are pretty bad so far. I mean, you’re out because you might break your neck trying to kiss me. And Bryant Townsend is a real dick—”

“I’d rather you date just about anybody besides Douchey McDoucherson.”

I howl laughing at Bryant’s nickname. “Even, like, that guy who rules North Korea who wears pajamas all the time? You’d be okay with me dating him?”

Rory stops at a traffic light. “That sounds like a great idea for my next script.” He pulls a scrap of paper from his pocket and the pen from behind his ear. He rips the cap off with his teeth and starts jotting down notes: Hot teen girl kidnapped by ruthless commie bastard/she falls for him/he brainwashes her by impressing her with his knife collection!!!

During the rest of my driving tour of Franklin, Rory tells me about how he wants to be a famous screenwriter one day. But I can’t figure out what genre Rory writes. What movies have eight million explosions, twice as many deaths, and loads of gratuitous sex scenes?

We pull into the lot of a place called Tennessee Ballers and park next to a Mercedes convertible. Two pretty girls, a guy, and Jack are climbing out of the car as we speak.

Crap. Of course Jack would be here, haunting me. I swivel to face Rory. “How can we afford this place?”

“It’s cheap, I promise,” Rory says.

Walking up to the wooden doors, I realize Tennessee Ballers is an old flour mill. A drugstore across the street is now an empty storefront.

Inside Tennessee Ballers, I gaze around at the odd décor. The tables, chairs, and carpet are tasteful and clearly brand new, but different kinds of dead fish (bass? sturgeon?) mounted on plaques and pictures of famous football players cover the walls. A picture of the Hundred Oaks’ football team from four years ago hangs right beside the cash register. The caption says the photo is from the Tennessee State Championship game. They had a girl quarterback? God, that’s so badass.

Rory and I get in line behind one of the girls who came here with Jack. She’s super tall with long blond hair. “Fish tacos at a place called Tennessee Ballers? Who came up with that?” I ask.

She turns, and a smile spreads across her face. “I know, the name is awful. I have to listen to guys make perverted comments every time I’m here.”

Rory pats his stomach. “Man, do I love me some fish tacos.”

“Ugh,” the girl says, rolling her eyes.

The guy she’s with grins evilly. “You love it when guys talk like that.”

“I hate you. So much,” the girl says to him before striding to the counter.

“You love me!”

“Who are they?” I whisper to Rory.

“That’s Vanessa Green and Colton Bradford. Colton’s dad is the mayor of Franklin. And Vanessa’s really cool. Her brother used to go to Hundred Oaks but now he’s in the NFL. First person ever from our school to make it.”

Crazy. How is it I’ve only been here a few days and I keep meeting people who are way out of my league?

Vanessa studies the menu, but Rory is studying Vanessa like she’s what’s for supper. I nudge him with my elbow. “Is she why we’re here?”

“No, we’re here for tacos.” Rory points his chin at the menu. Liar.

Jack slips an arm around the other pretty girl’s waist as they check out the menu.

“And who’s she?” I ask.

“Kelsey Painter. She’s a cheerleader.”

I’m so confused. Wasn’t he calling Abby Winchester earlier today? What if his bedroom really does have a revolving door?

I daydream of Jack touching me like that. Gently dragging his fingers across my hip, zapping me with lightning. Wait a minute. He was flirting with me earlier today when he knew he had plans with this girl tonight? What an ass. And I’m an ass for even thinking about him.

I focus on the food. The menu is full of tacos, nachos, tortilla chips, rice, and beans. This place is dirt cheap. I can buy a taco and rice for like $3. Nice.

That’s when Jack looks over his shoulder and sees me there. Our eyes meet and the side of his mouth quirks into a smirky grin.

“Savannah, hey. This is my friend Kelsey,” he says, and I shake hands with the girl. “Savannah’s living at my farm now.”

“Can we get chips and salsa?” she asks, turning away from me.

“Sure.” Jack seems startled that Kelsey just snubbed me, but I’m not. She clearly wants to jump him. Or already jumps him. Or something.

“You want to sit with us, Savannah?” Jack asks.

“Yeah, we do,” Rory rushes to reply. His eyes flick over to Vanessa.

After I get my order, I join Jack, Kelsey, Vanessa, and Colton at a circular booth in the corner. Curious, I watch them out of the corner of my eye. Kelsey taps on her cell phone as her friends dig in. Between texts, she feeds chips to Jack, giggling like crazy. He eats the chips she feed him because his stomach is clearly doing the thinking—just like with 99 percent of all guys. But he glances at me as he chews.

“Oh my God, this rice is so good,” Vanessa says, shoveling it into her mouth.

“I think it’s ’cause they cooked it in straight-up butter,” Jack says, practically inhaling his rice.

“I wish they served this stuff at Starbucks,” Vanessa says.

“You only love three things in this world.” Colton ticks them off on his fingers. “Starbucks, clothes, and meeting guys at Starbucks.”

“That is so not true,” she replies, throwing a tortilla chip at Colton’s face. The chip sticks to his black T-shirt. He plucks it off and eats it.

Rory slides into my booth with his tray. “You guys are so rude. I can’t believe you started eating before I was seated.”

“That’s what you get for being a perv, Whitfield,” Vanessa says, sucking her drink through her straw. She shakes her cup. “I’m already out of iced tea.”

“Maybe if you didn’t drink like a horse,” Rory says.

Vanessa rattles her cup again, trying to get more tea out.

“Let me get you more to drink. I won’t be able to eat in peace if I don’t,” Rory says, leaping to his feet and snatching the cup out of her hand. He jogs over to the beverage station to get a refill. He comes back and passes Vanessa her tea. She takes one sip and nearly gags.

“This is warm. Where’s the ice?” she asks.

“Oh, well I don’t like ice, so I didn’t get you any.”

“But it’s iced tea!” she says. “It tastes crappy when it’s warm.”

“Oh.” Rory looks down at the cup. “Maybe you should put some ice in it then.”

I silently laugh and Vanessa throws a tortilla chip at him, looking furious, but then it turns into a subtle smile.

“So,” Jack says to me. “Tell me about yourself. What else do you like besides riding—”

I’m about to start talking when Kelsey starts bragging about the college party she went to last night. “It was an underwear party and everybody danced around in foam and we sprayed silly string everywhere.”

Jack bites into his taco, looking perturbed at Kelsey.

Rory mouths “silly string,” and his eyes light up. He digs the scrap of paper out of his pocket again and jots down underwear and silly string.

“Tell me about that girl from last night on your Instagram pictures,” Colton says to Kelsey. “The one from the sorority you want to rush next year.”

“She said she’s going to study abroad this spring,” Kelsey says.

“Never mind. Long-distance relationships are hard,” Colton replies. “I couldn’t handle dating that girl Ellen I met in Murfreesboro.”

Jack rolls his eyes. “That’s only thirty minutes from here.”