Dacen turns back toward me. “I guess we better—”
I slide out of the booth, interrupting him before he has a chance to finish his sentence. “I’m gonna get some dessert.” I gesture over to the register area with my thumb. “You want anything?”
Something passes through Dacen’s eyes and he bites his lip. “Okay.”
“What do you want?”
“I don’t know, surprise me.”
A few minutes later I return with two plates. One has a piece of peach cobbler with vanilla ice cream, and the other a piece of chocolate silk pie piled high with whipped cream and chocolate shavings. Dacen’s face brightens when he sees what I hold. I set both plates down in the center of the table, and slide back into my seat.
He reaches for the chocolate pie but then hesitates. “Which one did you want, Ryne?”
I reach for the plate with the silk pie and chuckle to myself when his face falls slightly, then shove the plate in front of him. “I got the chocolate one for you.”
He picks up a spoon and smiles that smile that gets me every time. “Thank you.”
34
Dacen
Tuesday morning rolls around much faster than I’d like. I stayed up way too late last night. My brain wouldn’t calm the hell down enough for me to fall asleep. You’d think Ryne would have been the source of the constant chatter in my head given our evening together on Thursday, but surprisingly it’s not him causing me the most anxiety at the moment. Christopher randomly called me Sunday morning, just to catch up. It was nice to talk to him until he started going on and on about his plans for college in the fall.
He’s got the next four to six years of his life mapped out, complete with specifics on some of the classes he wants to take and where he wants to live his freshman year versus the remaining three years, details on the specific company he wants to intern for, and even more details related to getting his grad degree. I can’t decide if I’m super behind or if he’s some kind of master planner the likes of which I can only aspire to. Either way, our conversation played through my head all day Monday, and then for most of the evening, it turned into thoughts about what I want to do with my life and how I still have no idea. I couldn’t sleep, so I spent a good chunk of the night rearranging my closets. I wanted to get started on my bookshelves next but forced myself to get back into bed. I tried my damndest to fall asleep after that.
Point is, it’s Tuesday morning, I’m at school, and I’m tired. I even snapped at someone earlier today when all they did was ask me a question during class. I immediately felt bad afterward and I think they accepted my apology, but I shouldn’t have done it in the first place.
Have I mentioned I’m tired?
It’s lunchtime and I’m working through a tray full of sugary junk in hopes it will give me enough energy to wake up and get through the rest of the school day and soccer practice. Evan raised an eyebrow when he saw my selections as I sat down at the table but wisely chose not to comment on them. Even he can tell I’m feeling off today, so I must look pretty bleak. Roman, on the other hand? I’m currently glaring at him as I eat a chocolate pudding cup, and wondering how Ryne hasn’t killed him sometime within the last eighteen years. I’m also wondering why the hell I’m sitting here today in the first place. It wasn’t a wise decision given my current mood and I don’t even have any of my friends as a buffer. Evie had a talent show meeting over lunch, and I have no idea where Noah is.
I hold up a hand to interrupt Roman. “No. Stop right there. You’re wrong, and just because you don’t want to hear that you’re wrong doesn’t change the fact that you’re wrong.”
“Are you implying I can’t take criticism?”
“Hey, if the shoe fits, Roman, wear it.”
He narrows his eyes and looks down his nose at me. “More like if the dick fits, fuck it.”
I give a hefty sigh and dramatically roll my eyes, then slam my pudding down on my tray. Ryne glances over and mutters under his breath, “What the hell is wrong, Dacen?”
I ignore him and stay focused on Roman. “Do you have to be so crass?”
Roman props his elbows on the table and steeples his hands in front of him. He leans forward like some kind of mafia don and responds in a low voice. “I do have a fine ass, thank you.”
I throw my spoon down on my tray and cross my arms over my chest, then we proceed to fire back and forth.
“You are unbelievable.”
“Thank you.”
“That wasn’t a compliment.”
“Sure it was.”
Grumbling, I pick up my bottle of pop and unscrew the lid. Noah finally walks up and takes a seat next to me. I give him a small smile. He opens his mouth, probably to greet me, but I shoot another comment back at Roman. “Can you please go back to your casual disdain of me and continue to ignore my very existence?”
“Now why would I want to do that, when it’s so much more fun to torture you?” Roman smirks, then picks up his sandwich and takes a huge bite.
