For one of my classes we had an extra credit option to write an extension on Joyce Carol Oates's story, "Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been?". I strongly suggest you read the story. It gets better every time. And you should probably read it if you plan on reading my continuation - there are a lot of references to what she wrote.
There's a lot of speculation about the story, about Arnold being Bob Dylan, the devil, a dream. Pretty much whatever you can think of. I went with him being like Bob Dylan, and I intended to make it a dream, but changed my mind, so if there's anything that looks like it's hinting at a dream, it was.
The last two paragraphs Oates wrote are in italics.

 

     She put out her hand against the screen. She watched herself push the door slowly open as if she were back somewhere in the other doorway, watching this body and this head of long hair moving out into the sunlight where Arnold Friend waited.
     "My sweet little blue-eyed girl," he said, in a half-sung sigh that had nothing to do with her brown eyes but was taken up just the same by the vast sunlit reaches of the land behind him and on all sides of him—so much land that Connie had never seen before and did not recognize except to know that she was going to it.

     She left the other doorway behind and was back in herself as she walked with him to his gold convertible. Ellie was hopping into the backseat on the driver’s side. Arnold led Connie to the passenger seat using her as a crutch. The gravel was digging into her bare feet so she looked down in hopes of finding flat-looking rocks and saw that his feet did not really pick up, they just sort of slid. Across that side of the jalopy was painted IT”S ALL OVER NOW, BABY BLUE. She made a noise that could have been a laugh. The song that had been popular the year before was playing in Ellie’s radio and she knew what was coming for her.

     “You okay? Get in, we gotta go,” Arnold said. He looked over the town again and gave her a little shove. She wondered what her family would think when they found out she was not at home, then she wondered what it would matter to her when she was dead.

     She put her hand on the door and thought about what would happen if she ran. Arnold Friend could barely stand on his own, let alone run. Maybe that was what Ellie was for. Was there a gun? She figured there would be – it would be stupid for them to do this without one.

     “Hey. Get in, sweetheart. You ain’t worried, are you? You’ll love me. Promise. I’m your lover.” She believed he could have been singing and she obeyed. She was already out of the house, anyway.

     Ellie Oscar turned the volume on his radio up when Arnold started the car and went down the drive. He turned it even louder when they hit the road. The music was behind Connie, reaching her ears in the odd way that happens when the fade in a car stereo gets screwed up. She had a hard time hearing the music over the wind, but she could tell when Bobby King was talking.

     Arnold was talking, too. She looked at him and was struck by the senseless thought that he was not as creepy sitting down. He was saying something about how he would love her and be inside her and how she would love him, but she tried not to pay attention. He grabbed her knee where it both hurt and tickled and asked, “What do you think about that? Hey, you listening?”

     Connie made a jerky nod with her head and forced a smile. She managed to find her voice, whether it was the one she used around her house or out of it, she could not tell. “So, where are we going?”

     “It’s a secret, honey.”

     “Who am I going to tell? Ellie?”

     “Nah, forget Ellie. He’s a dope.” He looked at her and squeezed her knee again and gave a little smile. His sunglasses were on and his make-up was melting in the heat. She didn’t like either and wished they did not hide his face. She tried to listen to whatever song was playing on the radio but Bobby King came back on and Arnold Friend started talking about how great he was. Connie thought for the second time about how he sounded like the man on the radio.

     Arnold eventually stopped driving. They were a long way down a dirt road between a field and a wood. He told Ellie to get out and keep watch. She watched as Ellie walked away. He strutted in time with the music that was becoming faint but she could still make out the song, and Arnold was singing along flawlessly. Connie stared at him while he was singing and tapping his fingers to the music. She thought he had nice hands and she liked the way his mouth shaped each word. When his fingers and mouth ceased moving towards the end of the song he took off his sunglasses, wiped the sweat and make-up from his face with his arms, and looked at her. She liked the blue of his eyes.

     She was scared and excited and her breath was coming out in gusts. He put one of his perfect hands on her face and kissed her. She was going to love him and she would not have to pretend.

     The song was still playing from Ellie’s radio. Go to him now, he calls you, you can't refuse. When you got nothing, you got nothing to lose. Arnold Friend’s whisper lilted in her ear, “How does it feel, how does it feel, how does it feel, how does it feel,” ignoring the rest of the song and her sighed answer.