"Guys, what the hell are we going to do?" Nicole starts panicking as the pounding gets louder.

"What's the likelihood that there's a murderer at my back door?" I ask my two best friends.

"I would say it's a fifty-fifty chance," Nate half jokes. I start to stand, but he pulls me back down to the couch by my arm. "Um, what do you think you're doing?"

"I'm going to see who's at the back door," I reply, attempting to hide the uncertainty in my voice. "What if it's a little kid?"

"What if it's a murderer?" Nicole shoots back. "Leila, I'm not ready to die tonight!"

"We're not going to, just one of you come with me," I say. "You know, just in case."

Nicole and Nate look at each other and then back at me. When I stand, they both get up as well. "We'll both come. If I survive and Nicole doesn't, our parents will end up killing me anyway," Nate says.

The three of us walk in a line, one right behind the other, holding hands like we're in kindergarten. I round the wall separating the living room and kitchen, trying to see if I can tell who is outside at the back door. Unfortunately, the storm is making everything too dark and I never switched on the patio lights.

I lead Nicole and Nate through the kitchen, hoping I would be able to see through the glass door before getting too close. The pounding had stopped, but something tells me that whoever, or whatever, was out there hasn't left. We're just at the end of the breakfast bar when the pounding sounds again, rattling the door.

Lightning strikes at the same time, lighting up the sky and illuminating the figure standing outside.

The three of us let out a collective bloodcurdling scream and hold each other in a big group hug.

"Wait!" I yell over the screaming. Nicole and Nate stop abruptly, still clinging on to me. I free myself and walk closer to the door.

"LEILA DON'T YOU DARE!" Nicole screams at me. I ignore her and open the sliding door, letting in the figure from outside. Nicole and Nate start screaming again.

"Damn, it's cold," he says, dripping all over the floor. I touch the wall, looking for the light switch and turning it on. We all squint as our eyes adjust to the light and I wait for my two friends to register the fourth person who has joined us.

"Tristan Johnson?" Nate asks, looking Tristan's wet body up and down. "Dude, what were you doing outside?"

"Returning this," he responds, holding up Aunt Clara's glass container that once held mushroom tacos. He sets the container on the counter and grabs the small towel I offer him out of my hands, rubbing it roughly on his head to dry his hair.

"Why didn't you just ring the doorbell or leave in in the mailbox?" Leila questions. "You nearly gave all of us a heart attack!"

"Doorbell's broken and the mailbox kept flying open in the wind," Tristan states matter of factly, handing me back the towel. "Sorry," he apologizes, but only to me.

"It's fine," I say. "Um, do you want to stay for a little, just until the storm passes? I know you live next door, but we have pizza and forty minutes of a scary movie left."

"Sure," he says. I look at him in disbelief. Did he really just agree to staying? I only asked to be nice, thinking he would decline. I glance at Nicole and Nate, who look equally as shocked as I am, and then lead everyone back to the living room.

"Oh, Tristan," I say before sitting down. "Do you want some dry clothes? I'm sure my Uncle Luke won't mind."

"I'm okay," he says, taking a seat on the floor and leaning back on a reclining chair. Nicole, Nate, and I resume our original positions on the couch. Giving them one last "holy shit" look, I un-pause the movie and the chase scene we stopped at began again.

We finish off the rest of the pizza, my phone vibrating with texts from Nicole reading "omg this is actually happening" and "ihdaxiuynesksksksk" periodically throughout the remainder of the movie. I occasionally stole glances at Tristan, thinking I wasn't being obvious, but being caught every single time by him. That stupid smirk was on his face the entire time, the glow of the screen just softly casting enough light onto his face that I could see it from his profile. What is he even doing here? And why does he look so pleased with himself?

I am so tense by the end of the movie. And not from the actual movie. The four of us are all just sitting in silence as the credits roll onto the TV. I reach next to me to turn on a table lamp, making it clear that my two friends are still extremely confused why Tristan is still here. Frankly, I am too. The other day, he couldn't wait to get out of this house, but now he is just sitting calmly on the floor checking his messages as if we are all friends.

I look behind me out the window, trying to see if it had stopped raining. There hadn't been any major booms of thunder since Tristan arrived so I assume the storm is beginning to blow over.

Nate must have thought the same thing too because he announces that his mom is here to pick him and Nicole up. He had texted her about ten minutes ago when he realized that the rain had slowed down and the tension in the room had increased. We all get up to head to the front door, Nicole and Nate with their backpacks and Tristan still wearing his drenched clothes. I open the door only to find Aunt Clara and Uncle Luke trying to put the key into the door knob.

"What great timing!" Aunt Clara exclaims. "Hi, Nicole, Nate," she says, giving them each a quick hug as she steps into the house. "And Tristan?" She gives me a look and I just shake my head at her.

"I came over to return your container," Tristan says. "Mom really liked the tacos."

"I'm glad," she replies. "Luke, you remember Tristan, right? Helena's son?"

"Of course I do," Uncle Luke says, sizing him up. "Why are your clothes wet?"

"I was standing at your back door trying to get these guys to let me in," Tristan answers casually. When he realizes how strange that sounds he adds, "You should probably fix your doorbell."

After exchanging a few more pleasantries, all between Aunt Clara, Nicole, and Nate, my guests left. Uncle Luke had been staring at Tristan the entire time, Tristan returning his gaze with the same intensity. He eventually left, too, seconds after my two friends. I locked the front door and turned around to face my aunt and uncle.

"Leila Kendra Garner, I didn't know you were inviting boys over," Uncle Luke says casually.

"Oh, leave her alone," Aunt Clara bats his shoulder. She takes off her jacket and hangs it up on a small coat rack to dry. She stats walking to the kitchen and says, "Nate is just her friend and Tristan is a nice boy."

"So, you like Tristan?" he says, staring me down. I know he's being serious and all authoritative, but I can't help smiling at how hard he's trying.

"No, he's interesting, but we're just friends," I say slowly so he won't misinterpret anything. "I mean, I think we're friends. We haven't hung out or anything other than tonight, but even then I just invited him in because it was pouring outside." I add that last bit in so he doesn't think I've been sneaking around with boys and not telling him. He would be more hurt that he's out of the loop than me spending time with a boy.

"I'll choose to believe you, but you're not forgiven for not telling me there would be two teenage boys in my house."

"Babe, YOU'RE an overgrown teenage boy," Aunt Clara calls from the kitchen. Uncle Luke rolls his eyes.

"You're not forgiven," he repeats. His nose crinkles and he sniffs the air. "Wait, did you order pizza?"

"Yeah, I saved you a couple of slices before we finished the pie," I say. " I kept them in the fridge."

Uncle Luke pats the top of my head and rushes towards the kitchen. "Okay, now you're forgiven!"

I shake my head and laugh a little. He really is just like a teenager.