After checking all the outside pockets, as well as the main inside compartment even though I know I didn’t put them there, I sigh and my shoulders droop. Looking through the window nearest my car, which happens to be the window that looks in at The Booth, I groan. Fat Head stares right back at me with a wicked grin plastered on his face.
“You’ve got to be freaking kidding me.”
A resigned sigh passes my lips and I trudge back inside. Tyler’s standing near the door, about to make a phone call. He does a double take, pockets his phone, and strides the few steps over.
“Back so soon? Looking for trouble today, or what?” There’s a gleam in his eyes and his words could be interpreted as snarky, but he gives me a genuine smile.
A hot breath puffs out. “Or what. My keys are gone. I had them in one of the side pockets of my bag. They were there when I came in earlier, there while I was eating, and now they’re mysteriously gone.”
I look back toward the booth and glower at the guy that picked up my bag and called me Herschel. He has the nerve to grin again and give me a big wave. What a dick. Following the direction of my gaze, Tyler snorts and shakes his head.
“Just stay here for a second. I’m Tyler Grimm, by the way. I know we haven’t really talked at practice.”
“Yeah, I know who you are. It’s not that big of a soccer team and I’d be a real idiot if I didn’t know the captain’s name.”
Tyler chuckles and nods. “Fair enough.”
He heads toward the back of the restaurant and I watch him talk to his friends, gesturing once my direction. I can’t hear the conversation but I’m able to see their expressions. Ryne, who’d been focused on his phone, glances up sharply. When Fat Head holds up a set of keys—big shocker, they look like mine—he reaches over to smack him on the back of the head and snatch the keys, then drops them into Tyler’s open palm. Only when Tyler turns to head back do I realize I’ve been standing here watching with my mouth frozen open. I shut it quickly as he approaches and tosses me the keys. The tight feeling in my chest relaxes again now that my possessions are back where they belong.
“You’ve unfortunately gotten off on the wrong foot with these guys.” Tyler jerks his thumb behind him toward their booth. “They can be real dicks, not gonna lie.” He shrugs like he’s used to their shenanigans and no longer bats an eye at them.
“Yeah, I kinda picked up on that. Um, what’s the key thief’s name? I just keep referring to him as Fat Head in my mind.”
Tyler bursts out laughing and when I glance over his shoulder Ryne’s staring stonily at us with his arms crossed. Again. He is so freaking surly. I mean, there’s grouchy, and then there’s Ryne Sutton. He makes Oscar look absolutely sunny in comparison. Tyler’s laughter trails off and he turns sideways so he can see both me and his friends.
“Evan Kennedy. He admittedly has a strange sense of humor, but he’s mostly harmless.”
“And the Adonis with the death glare?” I inquire, nodding my head back toward the booth.
Tyler rubs his mouth to cover a smile and then drops his hand. “Roman Lennox. He’s all barkandall bite.”
I commit their names to memory as I readjust my bag and swing my keys around my index finger. “Thanks for the help with my keys and stuff. See you at practice if not before then.”
I’m already heading out the door when I hear his response. “Let’s hope not before.”
I glance back over my shoulder. He smiles and walks away.
5
Ryne
“Dude, seriously?” Evan stares at me blankly so I add, “The keys?”
“What? It’s okay for you to demand he find a different seat and for Roman to throw his half-eaten food away, but me taking his keys is too much?” He crosses his arms and sits up straight against the back of the booth.
“Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”
Evan juts his chin out. “I wasn’t gonna keep them. I was just giving him a hard time. And I thought you didn’t like him? What gives?”
“I don’t. That doesn’t mean I condone stealing, ya dumb ass.”
“Throwing his food away was kind of stealing too, just saying,” Tyler adds as he slides back into the booth across from me.
Roman, who’d been leaning back with his eyes closed the last few minutes, pops one open and trains it on Tyler. “Are we still on this whole conversation?” He closes his eye again. “He’s annoying. We messed with him. Move on, I’m bored.”
Movement outside catches my eye, and when I glance out the window it’s Becker. His windows are down and he sits there with the engine idling as he talks on the phone. That is so bad for your engine, why do more people not know that? I shake my head and begin to turn away when his movement catches my eye again. He flails one of his arms around, gesturing wildly as he talks. It’s a little hard to see the finer details of his expression, but he looks irritated. My stomach twists. I don’t know who he’s talking to, and I obviously can’t hear his conversation, but the thought he might be angrily recounting to someone what just happened doesn’t sit well with me. Things went a bit farther than I’d intended and I’m irritated. With Roman for tossing his food, with Evan for swiping his keys, and mostly with myself for letting it happen. I’d only wanted to rattle him a bit. I’m also irritated because when Becker stumbled and I caught him, the look in his eyes—a dangerous mix of confusion, annoyance, and desire—hit me harder than expected and I fucking caressed his arm with my thumb.
“Oooff,” I mutter and turn away from the window. This is the exact opposite of not getting distracted. When I open my eyes Tyler’s staring back at me through tiny, narrow slits while spinning his glass in circles on the tabletop. I don’t want to get into it anymore right now, so I slide out of the booth and stand up. “I gotta go. We still on for paintball tonight?” They all nod and Evan gives a thumbs up. “Cool. I might be a little late, I’m working with Nathan this afternoon and you know how he cracks the whip.”
