Chapter 2: Sonic Parking Lot Stare Down
The neon buzz of Sonic felt different tonight, a sharper hum in the veins. Ryli leaned against the warm black flank of her Charger, the concrete rough through her thin slides. She could feel the night air on the strip of bare stomach between her grey sweats and the black sports bra, a careless, confident display. Her friends were a chorus of voices and cigarette smoke around her—Kamora’s laugh, Daniel arguing with Xavion over nothing, the faint citrus of Audrey’s vape.
But Ryli was silent, her focus a laser.
She’d watched the cream-interiored Ford pull in. Had clocked the passengers. And then her world had tunneled down to one person: the blonde who slid out of the back seat.
Cadence Stover.
Everything about her seemed softly lit, even under the garish pink and blue neon. The freckles, the messy bun, the way she moved like she wasn’t aware every step was being studied. Ryli’s brain, usually so quick with a biting remark or a dismissive smirk, offered nothing. Just a blank, staticky confusion. Who was she? And why did looking at her feel like missing a step on the stairs?
Inside the Ford, the chatter had been a familiar soundtrack.
“Oh my god, there she is,” Briley had practically squealed, pressing her face to the window as Hunt parallel parked. “Ryli James. In the flesh. Look at her. I’m going to die.”
Cadence had followed her gaze, seeing a girl leaning against a muscle car, surrounded by people. She was pretty, sure. Objectively hot, even in the lazy sweats and slides. But Briley’s worship was a frequent, background noise. “Cool,” Cadence had said, her voice flat, already digging for her wallet. She didn’t care.
“Cool? Cool?” Briley gasped. “Cadence, she’s like, the final boss of hotness. And she’s mean. It’s perfect.”
Hunt cut the engine, throwing a look over his shoulder. “She’s staring over here.”
“At me?” Briley breathed, hastily checking her hair.
“No, dumbass. At Cadence.”
That got her attention. Cadence’s head snapped up, her bright blue eyes meeting a dark, intense stare from across two parking rows. The girl—Ryli—didn’t look away. Didn’t smile. Just looked, as if trying to solve a complex equation written on Cadence’s face.
A weird flush crept up Cadence’s neck. “What? Why?”
“No idea. But she’s got a type, and you’re apparently it,” Hunt said, popping his door open. “Let’s go order before Annie expires from hunger.”
They spilled out onto the asphalt. Cadence felt exposed, the stare a physical weight between her shoulder blades. She fell into step beside Auddy, trying to ignore it.
Over by the Charger, Kamora nudged Ryli with her elbow. “You know her?”
“No,” Ryli said, the word short.
“She’s a junior. Laney’s friend, I think. Cadence something.” Audrey supplied, exhaling a plume of vapor. “Why? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. A really pretty ghost.”
Ryli ignored the jab. Her eyes tracked the blonde’s movement—the slight sway of her hips, the way she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she laughed at something the gay guy next to her said. A jarring, prickling feeling spread through Ryli’s chest. It wasn’t annoyance. It was something else, something unfamiliar and disquieting.
“She’s just staring,” Cadence muttered to Hunt as they walked toward the ordering kiosks.
“I know,” he singsonged. “It’s kind of iconic. Briley’s having an internal crisis.”
“It’s rude,” Cadence insisted, but her protest felt weak. She risked another glance. Ryli was still watching her, one eyebrow now slightly raised, as if challenging Cadence to look away first. The defined abs, the sharp jaw, the bold red streak in her hair—it was a lot. An overwhelming image of curated cool. And those eyes held none of the playful malice Cadence had expected from Briley’s descriptions. They were just… intensely curious.
Briley, emboldened by proximity, waved awkwardly in Ryli’s general direction. Ryli’s gaze flickered to her for a nanosecond—a dismissive, automatic scan—before locking back onto Cadence. The message was clear. Briley deflated.
“Order for me,” Cadence said suddenly, her feet changing direction. “I’ll be right back.”
“What? Where are you going?” Annie called.
Cadence didn’t answer. She walked, not toward the kiosk, but on a diagonal path that would take her right past the black Charger. A strange bolt of courage, or maybe just a need to break the unsettling spell, propelled her forward.
The chatter around Ryli died down as her group noticed the approach. Ryli pushed herself off the car, standing to her full, unimpressive height, which somehow didn’t diminish the power of her presence. She crossed her arms, the gesture tightening the fabric of her sports bra. Up close, Cadence was even more disarming. The freckles were finer, her lips chapped from the cold, her eyes a bewildered, stunning blue.
Cadence stopped a few feet away. The air between them crackled with the unspoken.
“Can I help you?” Cadence asked, her voice steadier than she felt.
Ryli’s head tilted. A slow, appraising look traveled from Cadence’s shoes back up to her eyes. “You’re Laney’s friend.”
It wasn’t a question. “Yeah. I’m Cadence.”
“I know.” Ryli finally offered a smile, but it wasn’t friendly. It was all edges. “You were staring.”
The audacity struck Cadence mute for a second. “You were staring first. The whole time.”
“Yeah,” Ryli admitted, no trace of apology. She took a small step closer. The scent of clean sweat, cigarette smoke, and something sweet—vanilla lotion—wafted over. “I was trying to figure something out.”
“Did you?”
“No.” Ryli’s brown eyes searched her face again, that same confused intensity. “Not even a little bit.”
From the kiosk, Hunt let out a low, dramatic whistle. Briley looked like she might need medical attention.
Cadence held her ground, the confusion solidifying into a spark of irritation. “Well, when you do, let me know. It’s weird.”
She turned on her heel and walked back to her friends, her heart doing a strange, skipping rhythm against her ribs. She could feel Ryli’s eyes on her the entire way, a brand on her back.
Back at the Charger, Kamora let out a low laugh. “What the hell was that, Ryles? You were being so creepy.”
Ryli finally broke her gaze, looking down at her slides. A slow, genuine smile touched her lips, one her friends rarely saw. It was softer, private. The confusion was still there, a tangled knot in her stomach, but it was now threaded with a sharp, compelling interest.
“That,” Ryli said, pulling her keys from the pocket of her sweats, “was Cadence Stover.”
She got in her car, the engine roaring to life with a vibration that shook the frame. As she backed out, her headlights swept across the Ford, briefly illuminating the blonde girl now pretending to be very invested in the menu board. Cadence didn’t look up.
But Ryli knew she felt it. The pull. The question. The same one now echoing in Ryli’s own head, loud and insistent over the growl of the engine.
What was that?
What was that?
The question looped in Ryli’s head all the way home, the Charger’s growl a futile attempt to drown it out. She peeled off her sweats in her dark bedroom, the stripes of streetlight through the blinds cutting across her frame. The encounter played on a blunt, repeating reel: the blonde’s bewildered blue eyes, the chapped lips forming the word ‘weird’, the way her own usually reliable cool had just cracked open.
It was infuriating. And interesting.
She flopped onto her bed, the phone’s glow illuminating her face. Finding her was easy; Laney’s friend list was public, and there she was: cadence.stover. The profile pic was casual, a sun-drenched selfie with Hunt making a dumb face behind her. It was so ordinary. So uncalculated. Ryli’s thumb hovered.
Adding her was a impulse, a quick stab of the ‘+’ button before she could overthink it. The notification sent, a tiny digital stone dropped into a pond she couldn’t see.
Across town, Cadence was dissecting the night with Hunt over a fuzzy Facetime call. “She was just so intense. Like a hawk or something.”
“A very hot hawk,” Hunt corrected, painting his nails a matte black. “I think you broke her brain. Briley’s gonna need therapy.”
Her phone vibrated on the pillow. A Snapchat notification. ryli.james added you as a friend.
Cadence sat bolt upright. “Oh.”
“What? What is it?”
“She just added me. On Snap.”
Hunt’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. “No way. Well? Add her back! This is historic.”
With a sense of stepping off a ledge, Cadence tapped ‘Add’. The app opened to a chat screen immediately, the gray void awaiting a first move. Her stomach did a small, nervous flip.
Then a new message appeared. Not a snap, just text.
ryli.james: so was i being weird or was briley being dramatic
Cadence blinked. The tone was so direct, so stripped of the mean-girl pretense Briley had sworn was Ryli’s default. It was just… a question.
cadence.stover: a little column a a little column b
ryli.james: fair. sonic mozzarella sticks are a serious cultural moment. my focus was compromised.
A laugh escaped Cadence’s lips before she could stop it. She typed back.
cadence.stover: thats your excuse? processed cheese product?
ryli.james: its a solid excuse. you’re laney’s little friend right
cadence.stover: im a junior. not that little. and yeah.
ryli.james: makayla’s mentioned you. the nice one who draws in the margins of her notes.
Cadence felt a flush of warmth, then immediate suspicion. This was not the person she’d been briefed on. This person was observant, almost gentle in her phrasing. Where was the biting remark? The judgment?
cadence.stover: thats me. briley said you’d probably call me a loser for that.
There was a pause. Three pulsing dots. They appeared, disappeared, then appeared again.
ryli.james: briley talks a lot of shit for someone whose highlight reel is 90% dog filters
Another genuine smile. Cadence pulled her knees up to her chest.
cadence.stover: true. so you’re not gonna call me a loser?
ryli.james: not tonight. the mozzarella sticks have me in a generous mood.
They texted for twenty minutes. It was nothing consequential—complaints about a biology teacher, a meme about the Sonic ice, a question about the music festival coming next month. Ryli’s responses were quick, dryly funny, and most confusingly, kind. She asked questions. She remembered Cadence mentioned drawing.
The mean girl archetype Cadence had constructed in her head after Briley’s lectures began to fissure and crumble. This person on the other side of the screen felt real, her edges softer, her curiosity palpable. It was confusing as hell.
ryli.james: gotta crash. practice at 6am is a biblical punishment.
cadence.stover: practice for what?
ryli.james: swimming. the abs don’t maintain themselves.
Cadence shook her head, smiling at the ceiling.
cadence.stover: of course. night ryli.
ryli.james: night cadence.
The screen went dark. In her room, Ryli set her phone face down on her chest, staring at the shadows. The knot of confusion was still there, but it had loosened, warmed by the simple, easy flow of words. She’d been nice. And it hadn’t felt like a performance.
Across town, Cadence re-read the entire thread. Her last thought before sleep was a quiet, persistent echo.
Briley was so totally wrong.