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“There’s no CD in it,” Danny said. “And I’ve got terrible aim. Granted, I have baller muscles, but...”

Audrey suggested a truce. A team-up. Friends.

“I don’t have a problem with trucing, I mean… I don’t want to kill anyone. But… I dunno,” Danny muttered, hugging the CD player to his chest.

Normally, new friends was an awesome possibility. Danny liked people, and he liked it when they liked him. But he wasn’t sure he was comfortable with the idea of getting buddy-buddy with a guy he only knew in passing and a girl he didn’t know at all. Not now.

What if one of them died? What if one of them died after he’d become friends with them? It was like adopting a puppy that had two weeks to live. And even as Danny’s mind recoiled from the thought, there was that little part of him—the same part that occasionally stepped in to tell him to fucking deal with shit, pansy, albeit usually at times when it was either that or be too much of a jerk, even for him—that was hammering that thought in.

This was not the situation he wanted to be friends with everyone in.

He clung to the CD player a little tighter and rocked awkwardly on his feet, not really looking at anyone.
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