If I Was Young, I'd Flee This Town. I'd Bury My Dreams Underground.

I wandered down the barren highway at sunset in search of someone, anyone. "Zach? Mom? Dad? Blaine? Someone?" I cried as I stopped in the middle of the road. No one answered. Not even crickets. "Someone help me, I'm lost! Please. I don't even know how I got here..." The weight of my own loneliness prompted me to sink to my knees as my voice trailed off.

I thought about the way the air should feel on a summer night in the desert - cool, still and calm. This air, heavy and torrid, called to mind the time I'd collapsed from exhaustion and heatstroke on a family trip to the beach. I felt the air slowly begin to suffocate me as I curled up into a little ball, right there on the asphalt.

"Hey, Caitrin?"

The voice felt like a gentle breeze on the back of my neck. But it was not enough to coax me out of my shriveled-up form.

"C'mon, rise and shine. I finally found a place," the echoing voice continued. A cool pair of hands loosely gripped my shaking, sweating shoulders. Then I realized something.

I forced my eyes open with all my might, wanting to return to reality as soon as possible. In reality, I was freezing cold, and Zach had his arms wrapped around me to keep me from shivering. In reality, we were sitting in the car, parked at what appeared to be an abandoned, or at least very run-down, rest stop.

"Nightmare?" Zach guessed.

"Yeah."

"You wanna tell me about it?"

"Nah. Let's just go... get drunk. Or something," I said, my voice still sleepy. I laughed.

Zach laughed also. "Alright. Here, take my coat. You look like you're freezing." He gently tossed his coat into my lap before unlocking all the doors and climbing out.

"Thanks," I murmured as I slipped the bulky coat over each of my arms and exited the car also. I saw Zach set the two six-packs of beer on a picnic table that looked about ready to fall apart. "You sure that's safe?" I chuckled as I sleepily staggered over to him.

"Nope. But I'm going to sit here anyway." As he sat down, the bench creaked in defiance.

I reluctantly sat across from him, looking and listening for any sign that the picnic table was collapsing. "How did you even find this place?" I laughed. Overgrown weeds peeked out of every crack in the crumbling concrete beneath the ancient picnic tables. Layers of webs made by long-dead spiders obscured the outdated logos on three vending machines leaning against the remains of a small, dilapidated building.

Zach shrugged as he freed two beers from their packaging, pushing one across the table to me before taking the other for himself. "I saw a blocked-off exit, so I drove around the barriers, kept going awhile, and found this. Pretty secluded, huh?" Even in the dim moonlight I could see the triumph on his face.

I smirked and opened my beer, its distinctive scent wafting into my nostrils. "Yeah. Perfect for a couple of underage drinkers." I drank the beer at a normal pace, not guzzling it but not sipping it all hesitantly either.

Zach, however, most definitely guzzled his, and soon reached for another can. "You're a slow drinker."

"No, I think you're just a fast drinker." I laughed, though inside I was beginning to worry. I took another swig, hoping it would calm me down. "You... you're not going to drive after this, are you?"

"Nah. I was thinkin' we could sleep here. Right here on the concrete. You know, under the stars and all that good stuff." He laughed, clearly a bit tipsy after nearly two cans of beer.

"This certainly isn't the prettiest place to sleep..." I murmured after drinking a little more. I hoped he wasn't serious.

"Yeah, but the stars are the same no matter where you go. They're always... the same."

I thought about it for a moment, and it did make sense. Sort of. And no matter where you go, sleeping under the stars with someone is a little... romantic. Plus, it seemed like a better option than getting a DUI, yet not quite as appealing as simply sleeping in the car.

We both drank in silence for a while, each of us occasionally sneaking a glance at the moonlit face of the other and smiling mischievously. Eventually, I burst into a fit of giggles and covered my face with my hair. "God, we're both going to be pissing pure alcohol later," I mumbled into my hair, still giggling uncontrollably.

Zach started to laugh also, even though he probably had no clue what I'd just said. As a response, he cleared my hair away from my face with one awkward swipe, took both my hands, and began to sing "Postcards from Italy." Amazingly, he sounded just as good drunk as he did sober, if not better.

After the first verse or so, I started to sing along. My voice, which I thought sounded bad all the time, sounded particularly horrendous when I was even slightly drunk. Yet at that time, and in that place, it didn't matter because we were both having fun and had nothing to worry about.