"They're not approved."
"That sucks. Sorry."
"Whatever."
"Do you want to call them now?" He offers me his phone.
I think about it but decide against it. "Calling Nina from your phone probably isn't a good idea. I doubt she'd even answer."
Parker chuckles cockily. "She'd answer." When he notices my glare, he fumbles. "I mean, she and I still get along." I hear him say, "Shit," under his breath.
"Maybe dinner isn't a good idea."
"Lana," he pleads, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said it like that."
"Take me back to the school," I tell him, crossing my arms.
"What is it?" His grip tightens on the steering wheel. "Are you jealous? Is that why you're being like this?"
"Are you kidding me, Parker?" I yell. "You don't care about me. You only think of how everything affects you. That's why I'm being like this."
Parker pulls off into a scenic overlook where one other car is parked above a valley of rolling hills. I don't understand what's so special about it.
He stares out the windshield, a muscle ticking in his jaw. When he finally speaks, his voice is low and controlled. "I can be a jackass sometimes, I know. And say really pompous things." He turns to face me and takes my hand. "But I do care about you, Lana. And I want to help."
"Me or yourself?"
"Why do you say that?"
I try to ignore the hint of hurt in his voice. "I know that you're one of the organizers, and what happened in the stairwell can come back on you if anyone finds out. You need me to keep my mouth shut so you don't get busted."
"But you wouldn't tell anyone, I know that. I trust you."
"Maybe I should say something."
Parker doesn't respond. Instead, he pulls his hand away and adjusts in his seat to face the windshield again.
"A girl is lying in the hospital in a coma. Don't you think that's more important than your illegal business?"
Parker turns his head toward me. "Of course. But neither you or I put her there. And letting the police know about the party won't make a difference. That's not what's going to help her."
"But saying who pushed her, will." It's the obvious conclusion, if only it were that simple.
"Then tell them."
His encouragement takes me by surprise.
"What?"
"Tell them who did it. Don't continue to protect them."
I fall back against the seat, defeated. "I'm not protecting him."
"Then what? Is it the other girl? Are you worried about her saying something to the police? She was wasted. She could barely tell me what she saw that night, forget about now."
"She saw me. Only me."
"But she didn't see what happened. She came in after."