“Did you hear?”
I can barely make out Scarlett’s words as she inhales another handful of fries.
Jules peers up from her burger. “Hear what?”
“Blue’s NewGirl! The one Pandora thinks has a thing going with KingMidas!”
It stings particularly bad hearing the excitement in my sister’s voice. She lives for the idea of climbing the social ladder, and to her, being with West sounds like a dream come true.
Shane’s ears perk up, but he continues to hover over his spaghetti, actively pretending he’s uninterested.
“And to think, the only update I got this week is that you joined the Journalism Club,” Jules points out, turning to face me.
Taking a sip of my water gives me time to think of a suitable response. “I did join journalism club. And I’ll have you know it’s very fulfilling,” I lie.
Actually, Mr. Dansk kind of blows and it only makes my time there suck even harder that I’ve been tasked to handle the sports segments. Which means I’ll get to spend even more time with West and Co.
Fun times ahead, right?
“Cut the crap. Is this true?” Jules practically sings. “You been holding out on me?”
“It’s not like that,” is the best response I can come up with.
Her brows shoot up, which means she’s not buying it. “Clearly, we have one heck of a heart-to-heart in our future,” she decides.
We seriously don’t, though. Not unless I suddenly decide to share with her that, for my first full week at Cypress Prep, I’ve been bullied by their gang of elites. But that’ll never happen because I know Jules, just like I know Ricky. I purposely keep both in the dark about what really goes down at CPA. Protective as they are, they’d never stand for it. First chance either got, they’d call out West and the others, resulting in the world crumbling right on top of me. Not the ones who actually deserve it.
No thanks.
Putting up with their shit is not only embarrassing, but it isn’t like me. On my side of town, the last name Riley is synonymous with having a short fuse, taking on whoever stupidly gets in our way. I’m a fighter by nature. To the point that it nearly cost me admission to CPA. But the difference is, I know what’s at stake now. It’s the reason I keep my head down and try to mind my business.
Only, that doesn’t really fly with West.
This week alone—in addition to the poster thing—I’d been shoved in the halls by randos I’d never seen before, locked inside a bathroom stall, and I had my backpack disappear from my locker during gym, only to reappear on top of the basketball rim.
Mostly, it’s amateur shit, but still annoying as hell.
I peer up at Uncle Dusty when he hovers over our booth, whistling the tune to whatever oldie is playing through the sound system. He’s exhausted from being on his feet cooking all day, but still managed to prepare each of our favorite meals for dinner. Mine was in a bag beside Scar so I could enjoy it later. If I started in on it now, I’d have to finish my shift in a food coma. Nobody wants that.
“You guys have enough?” he asks.
Shane belches into his fist before answering, “I’m stuffed.” Afterward, he leans back and places a hand on his stomach, looking so much like Ricky it’s scary.
“That’s what I like to hear,” my uncle adds, checking his watch before his eyes lock with mine again. “I’m gonna need you back on your section, sweetheart. You know we get a little bit of a rush around this time. Plus, Becca and Joanne called in tonight.”
“I’m on it,” I answer, sliding out of the booth.
Scar, Jules, and Shane follow, collecting their phones from the table. When Scar scoops up the bag with my dinner inside, I nod toward it.
“Do not let Mike eat my sandwich,” I warn.
“And if he does, let me know,” Uncle Dusty chimes in. “It’d give me a good reason to kick his ass. Been almost a decade since I had the chance.”
He walks away after that, with the four of us laughing because he means every word. As my mother’s older brother, he’s never taken to my father, and for good reason.
“Homework and then clean your room,” I say to Scar as she moves toward the door.
“But I need to start baking tonight!” she snaps. ”Or did you forget about the block party tomorrow.”
Of course I forgot, but I’ll never tell her that. Not with how important this bake sale is to her.
“The party is all the more reason for you to get your work done tonight. If I let you put it off, you’ll start on it at 11:59 Sunday night. So, homework first, then baking. Deal?”
This time I get an eye roll as I tug the end of her pink ponytail, but she doesn’t object.
“If it’s the math assignment, I can help you,” Shane offers. “I got mine done in class.”
The very thought of these two being left alone makes my heart race a mile a minute, wondering how I can cock block from here at the diner.
I mean actually cock block.
Jules sees me scrambling and intervenes. “Tell you what, I’ll hang out at the house until you get off. That way Scar can get help … and you don’t have a heart attack,” she adds only loud enough for me to hear.
I discreetly mouth a heartfelt “Thank you” in return.
“Hold up a sec.”
We all turn when Uncle Dusty rushes out of the kitchen again.
“Almost forgot to have you take these for Ricky and your aunt Carla,” he says with a warm smile as he hands two bagged carryout containers to Shane. “If you have other plans, make sure you stop home to drop those off first. Made ‘em fresh.”
“I’ll get it there,” Jules promises.
“Thanks, Dusty.” Shane offers a polite nod as my uncle makes his way back to the kitchen.
“See you guys when I get off. Shouldn’t be too late,” I add.
They wave and I watch until they leave the lot, then slip behind the counter. Uncle Dusty is putting the finishing touches on a phone-in order when I lean on the ledge cutout between the kitchen and dining room.
He catches me and flashes a smile from behind his gold-toned beard—one so big I often tease that it’s been fertilized with the tears of lesser men. Tall, broad, and looking like he’ll put a guy through a wall if he needs to, you’d never guess that when it comes to me, Scarlett, and even Hunter, our uncle is a big softy. One who’s actually given a stranger the shirt off his back once.
“Something I can do for you, Blue-Jay?” he asks, flipping the spatula just because he’s a show-off.
Shrugging, I smile back. “If you’re taking requests, I’ll take a yacht with a million bucks stashed inside.”
His smile turns into a quiet laugh. “Well, make that a double. When you find this mythical genie granting wishes, point him in my direction.”
The door chimes again, ending our conversation. Dusty glances over my shoulder and then goes back to scooping mashed potatoes into a to-go container.
I tighten my apron and start toward the door to greet the customers who entered, but I stop dead in my tracks when I finally look up and see who said customers are.
My first instinct is to ball both fists at my sides, and my next is to swing them when West flashes that wicked grin at me.
How on Earth did he know where to find me?
The group of twenty-plus make their way toward the booths lined along the window, but not West. His steps are steady and brimming with confidence when he strides over to me, stopping only when there’s a foot of space between us. Naturally, my body goes rigid being so close to the enemy.
Among the many things I take note of within the first few seconds of laying eyes on him is his hair. The unruly, loose curls are tame tonight, wet and darker than normal. The wifebeater beneath his white tee is visible, highlighting the breadth of his shoulders. A scent permeates from him and I hate that I enjoy it so much. It’s clean and crisp, not at all overpowering.
West’s height gives him an advantage and he uses it, staring down on me like he loves to do. And like always, I can barely breathe in his presence, doing my best not to show any sign of weakness.
“You have to go.” The words are biting, and every bit as scathing as I intend for them to be. “Two of our servers called in sick, so we’re understaffed. There’s no way we can wait on all of you.”
His head cocks to the side and his eyes dim. “And here I was, thinking you’d be honored to serve me, Southside.” The tip of his tongue slides between his lips, wetting them, and my attention goes there before meeting his gaze again.
“Sounds like you’ve confused me with one of your groupies.”
After speaking, I nod toward the handful who followed the team in tonight. The train of sickeningly feminine perfection that filed through the door with them.
They’re all from the dance squad, I imagine, but the only three I recognize are Joss, Ariana, and Heidi. Parker’s fall turned out to be worse than anyone thought. The sprained ankle she sustained would keep her on the sidelines at least a few weeks.
Whoops. My bad.
On cue, bubbly laughter flutters from their pink, glossed lips and I prop both hands on my hips.
The motion grabs West’s attention and his gaze slithers down my body, inch by inch. Realizing he’s checking me out, I swallow hard, feeling an unexpected degree of tension explode between us. It swirls in the air like a hot, thick fog.
It isn’t lost on me that he’s hot as sin, but it’s easy to overlook when he’s calling for his minions to make my life a living hell.
Suddenly coming to himself again, his gaze flashes toward mine.
“I think we’ll stick around,” he declares. “And I expect you to be on your best behavior, Southside. Wouldn’t want anybody to cause a scene, now would we?”
