Total pages in book: 150
Estimated words: 147136 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 736(@200wpm)___ 589(@250wpm)___ 490(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147136 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 736(@200wpm)___ 589(@250wpm)___ 490(@300wpm)
“I told him I was seeing someone, that I was …in a relationship and happy.” She squeezed her eyes shut through a breath, inhaling and releasing slowly. “It didn’t even faze him,” she continued, lifting her head with disappointment in her crystal blues. “He didn’t care one bit that I was someone’s girlfriend, Sydney. Didn’t even throw him off his flirting game. If anything, he went at me harder after that. I was suddenly a challenge. And that disgusted me. He has no respect for love.”
I grabbed her hand that was hanging freely.
“And after all of it, after pushing me and throwing empty compliments and stupid little nicknames around, he still flirts with practically every girl in here when he comes in. They flock to him, and he just sits there and pats his lap. It’s pathetic. I’m sure he calls them Ass or Knee-Cap, or something equally unoriginal. He’s a player. And a jerk.”
“And a dick,” I added, now fully convinced.
She gave my hand a squeeze.
“Exactly. That’s why I always ask Stitch to do things to his food.”
My mouth fell open.
“Does he?” I asked, glancing over at the window Shay’s face was still halfway sticking through.
Tori shrugged, kept her long, slender fingers wrapped around my hand, and suggested, “Come on. Let’s go take their orders before Nate fires us.”
We walked back to the booth, fingers interlocked, mine holding on a little bit tighter, and this time Tori handed me her ticket book, brushing her lips against my hair when I looked nervous and unsure and reminding me that I needed to start taking orders eventually, and also, that this would be the perfect order to screw up on.
I smiled at our secret.
She nudged my hip again and turned to the boys.
“We ready?” she asked, studying her nails.
A fired off his order of fish and chips, extra chips and hold the coleslaw, folded up his menu, and slid it to the edge, doing this saying they were still waiting on a third but were starving.
B kept his eyes on Tori, his lips curved in a smile, and requested the bacon and bleu burger, cooked medium with no pickles, a side of fries, and her phone number.
I glared at him, then scribbled down his order.
A Reuben with potato salad.
I ripped the ticket from the book and handed it to Tori when we got behind the bar.
She laughed at my chicken scratch handwriting, mumbled something about praying Jamie was allergic to eggs, then slid the paper across the steel lip of the window to Stitch, requesting with a mischief in her eyes, “Loser Special, Stitch sweetie, on the Reuben.”
He jerked his chin and kept on cutting up onions.
I leaned closer to her.
“What’s a Loser Special?”
“Drop the meat on the floor and let it sit there for five seconds.”
I straightened in shock.
“He does that?” I whispered harshly, looking through the window at Stitch and thinking that, yes, he did look like someone who wouldn’t care if he dropped meat on the floor and served it to a loser, especially a loser who deserved it, and further thinking he looked like someone who could lay a motherfucker out if they looked at him wrong.
The guy was straight-up edge.
I cut my eyes away before he saw me staring.
Tori smiled. That was the only answer she gave me.
Kali walked up then and joined the two of us behind the bar, coming from the employee lounge next to Nate’s office.
Shay was waiting on a table and no longer hanging around Stitch’s window.
“I feel so much better,” Kali exclaimed on a rushed breath, her hands pressing her boobs through the white polo shirt we wore as uniforms. “I thought I was going to start leaking all over the place.”
“Did you talk to Cam?” Tori asked.
Kali’s face lit up, her brown eyes sparkling like Christmas lights.
It was beautiful to watch.
“He loves FaceTiming me,” she said to me more than Tori. “He just licks the screen and babbles nonsense. It’s the cutest thing ever.”
My phone vibrated in my back pocket.
I slipped it out, replying, “I can’t wait to meet him,” and saying it sincerely.
“I’ll bring him in when I’m off so you can see all his sweetness. And we should all totally hang out one night! I can get my parents to watch him if I give them notice.”
“Hell yeah. Girls’ night,” Tori commented.
“Absolutely,” I answered, head down.
“Is it Marcus?”
I kept the screen close to my body, shielded from prying eyes, and shook my head in response to Tori’s question while my insides tingled with a strange energy.
“My mom,” I lied, then winced because I lied, but I didn’t know if I could tell Tori who was really texting me, or if I should.
We didn’t keep secrets, but I was getting butterflies from a boy who wasn’t my husband.
What would she think of me?