“What are you looking for?”
“Last time I was in your truck I threw a bag of pretzels back here.” He sticks his head back inside and continues to search.
My mouth goes slack and I blink at him a few times when he pops out again, holding up the bag triumphantly. “You’re stashing food in my truck now?”
Evan rips the bag open and shrugs, stuffing a pretzel in his mouth. He hands the bag in my direction and I shake my head. His mouth is full when he speaks. “You know I eat like ten times a day. I need food within reach.”
My eyebrows draw close together and it’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him to make a pantry out of someone else’s truck, but I just shake my head and let it go. He swims in some form all year round, and the sheer number of calories he can put away to sustain the energy required is astounding. I’ve got a healthy appetite, but there’s nothing quite like a swimmer’s appetite when they’re going through intense training in preparation for competition. It’s wild watching him eat then, he practically inhales the food. The swim team can do some serious damage at those all-you-can-eat buffet places.
“So where’s Tyler?”
Evan glances around and nods his head to the left. “Talking to Evie and her friends.” I follow the direction of his nod and zero in on Dacen immediately. My nostrils flare when I take in the rest of the group and find Jeremy there as well. I can’t stand the stupid prick.
Just let it go. There’s nothing to do or see with anyone over there.
Right. Tell that to my dick.
Evan finishes chewing and sets the bag next to me. “Guard this with your life. I’ll be back in a few.” He wipes his mouth on the inside collar of his shirt and tries to nonchalantly walk in their direction but it’s obvious he’s got a clear and specific destination in mind. I watch him walk the ten or so yards up to Tyler and know the moment his presence is noticed because Evie crosses her arms over her chest and steps closer to Dacen. After a moment I dig into Evan’s bag and pull out a handful of pretzels.
“Want some?” I shake the bag next to Roman’s ear and the pretzels clatter around inside the crinkled plastic.
He swats it away then grabs a handful and takes a bite of one. He grimaces and looks down at the pretzel. “The hell is this shit?” I turn the bag around and read the label. Unsalted pretzels? Why the hell bother? We both dump the food back in the bag and I shove it aside. “He’s like a cross between the village idiot and an old man.”
I snort and shake my head. “That village idiot slash old man would throw down against anyone for you.”
Roman chuckles quietly. “What a fucking idiot.”
The look I give him would make my aunt proud. “Don’t try to pretend you wouldn’t do the same for him.”
“Oh, I would. But seriously, fucking idiot.” He gestures toward Evan. “Look at him. Every time he talks to Evie he digs his grave deeper and deeper.” Roman sighs and settles back with his head propped on his arms. “I don’t know why he bothers. Waste of fucking time if you ask me. He needs an intervention. Hand me my bag?”
I look behind us. I hadn’t even seen him drop it in. He can be freakishly stealthy. I grab the black backpack and drag it over. He rolls over onto his side and unzips it, then scrounges around inside. A big gust of wind blows through, strong enough to catch on a couple of papers Roman shoved aside and lift them. I slam my hand down on them before they blow away in the wind.
“Thanks,” Roman mumbles and shoves them back in the bag, but not before I catch a glimpse of the note scrawled on one of them. Suspicion pings in the back of my mind.
“Roman.” My voice is low, even, and overly calm. It’s like reaching toward a rabid dog while holding onto a piece of bloody steak. “Why do you have that name and what looks like a locker combination?”
He stares at me and pulls out a plastic cup and a bottle of Jack Daniel’s. He keeps the bottle covered by the backpack as he pours the remainder from his can into the cup, then opens the whiskey and pours a very liberal amount in after it.
“You want?” He holds the bottle toward me, down low so nobody can see. It seems avoidance is his tactic of choice this evening. Not that I’m one to judge.
“Nah.” I shake my head. “I have to drive, remember? And I’m probably not staying for the game. I’m beat.” My statement is punctuated with a huge yawn that cracks my jaw. Roman screws the lid on and places it back in his bag to conceal it. “Now don’t act a fool or you’ll get yourself caught, and me by association since you’re in my truck.”
Roman grins and salutes me with his cup. I look back over to Tyler and Evan and catch Dacen’s notice. He looks away quickly and tugs on the front hem of his shirt. I grab my hat and pull it on, wrapping a hand around the curved bill and tugging it down low. Dacen looks over again and I stand up in the truck bed and hop down off the end, my boots making a thud as I land on two feet.
Roman glances at my face, partially hidden by the hat and shakes his head. “You are as transparent as a window.”
I run a hand up the back of my neck. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He smiles over the top of his cup as he takes a sip and then sets it down beside him. “Sure you don’t.” He waves his hand in their general direction. “I still don’t get what your issue is with him, the whole ‘he left in the middle of a game’ thing.” Roman uses air quotes. “It doesn’t make sense. I left in the middle of a game of laser tag in seventh grade and yet here we are, still best assholes.”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, it’s not the same thing.” And that’s not really the issue.
“Whatever. Just fuck him and move on, dude.”
I glance at him sharply. “What are you talking about?”
Roman tilts his head back and looks up at me, a too-quick smile forming. One eyebrow cocks up and he taps his chin with a knuckle like he’s considering his next words carefully. “I’m talking about how you want to bone Becker, obviously.”
