Is it really that obvious?
“You have a couple of tells.”
I cross my arms over my chest and rest against the truck. “Say I want Becker, hypothetically, what makes it obvious?”
“For one, he gets under your skin. Normally you just don’t give a fuck how moronic someone is, but he seems to rile you up.” Something that feels suspiciously like irritation flickers in my gut, but it’s not that Roman can tell Dacen gets under my skin, it’s because he seems to be implying he’s a moron. God help me I do not know why that bothers me so much, but it does. I bite my words back and clench my jaw. Roman points at my face. “That right there is the second tell.” I force my expression into something hopefully more neutral, and he chuckles, shaking his head. “I don’t really think he’s a moron, for what it’s worth. He’s annoying, but…”
There’s a lot of implication behind his unfinished sentence. I gaze across the parking lot again and let my attention to our conversation wane for a moment. Jeremy stands between Tyler and Dacen. I’d love to know what they’re talking about right now. He elbows Dacen in the side and bursts out laughing. Tyler laughs but even from here, I can tell it’s his polite laugh. Dacen just smiles and runs a hand through his hair. I grab Roman’s cup and take a large gulp. Apparently, I’m staying longer than planned tonight.
“That’s all circumstantial proof at best. You’re reaching.”
Roman stares at me directly as he turns to sit against the side of the truck bed and crosses one booted foot over the other. He clasps his hands together behind his head and leans back into them. There’s a gleam in his eyes. “Well, smartass, there’s also the fact you frequently gotta cover your dick when he’s around. Kinda hard to deny the physical evidence, don’tcha think?” I’d been taking another drink and sputter it back into the cup. Roman wrinkles his nose as I hand it back to him. Christ, I need to get dumber friends. I’m getting tired of these people seeing right through me like I’m a thin sheet of paper. Roman holds the cup gingerly between two fingers. “The fuck am I supposed to do with this now?”
“Since when has a little spit bothered you, Rome?” I smirk and try to gloss over the last point he’d made.
He glances down at the cup, twists his lip up, and then shrugs and takes another drink. “Valid point.” My phone dings. I pull it out and nearly snarl at the screen. I power it down completely and shove it back in my pocket. “You have other friends we don’t know about?” I ignore the question. Roman looks over the other group’s way again. “Now what the hell’s going on?”
I follow his gaze and frown. “Is that Becker’s bag he just grabbed?” My gut has me walking in their direction before Roman has a chance to respond. Evan and Tyler are nowhere to be seen, having walked away some time at the last minute. The conversation floats my way as I slowly approach.
“No, it’s a planner. I like to stay organized,” Dacen states stiffly while Jeremy flips through the pages of that planner notebook thing I’ve seen him with more often than not. “Can I have it back now?” Dacen holds out his open palm but Jeremy ignores him and keeps flipping through. Besides Dacen, Evie worries about her lip. When she realizes he’s ignoring Dacen’s request she opens her mouth but Jeremy cuts in again.
“You’ve got like the neatest handwriting of any dude I’ve ever seen.”
Dacen drops his hand and raises his head to the sky, shaking it once before looking back at him. I step next to Jeremy, grab the notebook from his hands, close it, and then slap it gently against Dacen’s chest. He scrambles to catch it before it falls to the ground.
“You need to learn to keep your grimy hands off things that don’t belong to you,” I growl.
Jeremy does a double-take at my expression. I can only imagine how I look right now. If it’s even half as enraged as I feel, it’s intense, and I have no fucking clue why.
“I was just looking at it, simmer down, Sutton.”
My nostrils flare. “Did you not hear him ask for it back?”
He opens and closes his mouth, then juts out his chin and leans back against his Mustang. It’s a pretty thing, cherry-red and shiny. Definitely one of the nicest student vehicles around here other than Dacen’s. And it pisses me off even more.
“Whatever, I was just messing around.” He turns to Dacen. “I was just looking, sorry man.”
Dacen gives him a strained smile and nods tightly. I turn to walk away then because what else is there to say? A few steps out Dacen jogs up behind me and clears his throat.
“What?” It’s feeling a little déjà vu-ish. His footsteps falter at my snippy tone and I stop and turn around with a sigh. “What, Becker?”
“I… well… thanks. That’s all I wanted to say.”
His shy smile, reminiscent of one of his first smiles to me ever, lights up his face. The overwhelming urge to reach out and touch him catches me off guard, and I suck in a breath. He waves silently and turns around.
“You’re welcome.” My words are low, nearly a whisper, but he looks back over his shoulder as he walks away. That fucker just winked at me. I shake my head and bite back a smile, then head back over to Roman.
What a weird night.
15
Ryne
The next afternoon the guys and I grab a bite at the diner before we go swimming. It’s always warm in the summer and fall in the South, but holy shit it’s like a sauna outside today. I’m glad I don’t have to work and can actually hang out at the lake later.
The bell hanging above the front entrance door at the diner jingles, and I look over at a small group of teenagers entering the restaurant. Not exactly headline news, so I turn back toward our table. Just as I open my mouth to ask Tyler a question, the last of the group steps over the threshold and into the restaurant. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a flash of yellow by the door near the floor and turn again to look. I locate the source of the color; dark blue socks with yellow tacos all over them, tucked into a pair of brown leather boots and leading up to slightly fitted jeans folded up a few times at the bottom.
It’s in the eighties and so humid you can practically drink the air, and this guy’s wearing jeans, socks, and boots. My eyes travel the rest of the way up the body, knowing in my gut who I’ll find at the top. Brown leather belt. Fitted dark blue v-neck t-shirt. Strong, square jaw framing an annoyingly attractive face. Carolina blue eyes that, when you’re close enough to see each fleck of color and nuance of pattern, are like looking into a crystal clear swimming pool; all clear blue with rays of sunshine rippling in their depths.
