Page 7 of The Wicker King

“You say that, but it’s still happening.”

He shook the pepper vigorously all over Jack’s food until Jack smacked the container clean out of his hand and across the room.

BITE

August sat grumpily in the back of the car. This was horrible. You don’t bother people at work. You just don’t.

“Stop scowling.”

“You can’t even see my face.”

“I know you’re doing it anyway,” Jack snapped. “I can feel you glaring at the back of my neck.”

August had been looking at Jack’s neck. The part where his head had been buzzed was growing back now, and starting to curl. August sighed loudly and sunk even farther down in his seat. “What do you plan for us to do when we get there?”

“It’s a diner, August. We order something. It’s not that hard. Then maybe we’ll wait for her to get off her shift and we can hang out or whatever.”

“You’re the worst at this.” August stuck his finger through the hole in the headrest and poked at the back of Jack’s neck. “You’re lucky you didn’t have to work that hard to get Carrie-Anne to like you.”

“I am lucky. Thank you for noticing.” Jack grabbed August’s finger and pulled viciously until August snatched his hand back.

SKILLET

It went poorly. As expected.

There was a reason August liked mean girls—they were never boring.

Rina had been assigned to their table by some horrifying twist of fate. And, based on the quantity of coffee she’d accidentally spilled on Jack’s legs, she wasn’t pleased about being followed.

August apologized profusely and wound up giving her more than three times regular tip just to buy himself back into her good graces. But the second Rina’s manager was out of sight, she pinched Jack’s ear and dragged him to the door. August followed sullenly.

“Don’t you ever do anything like this again. Respect me and my space,” she hissed.

“God, fuck. That fucking hurts. I swear I’ll make it up to you. Do you like cupcakes? I’ll bring you cupcakes!” Jack cried. He might have been all ropy muscle, but he was hunched over in Rina’s grasp.

Rina shut the diner door in his face.

THE DARK AND THE DEEP

August smacked Jack on the back of the head as soon as they got in the car.

“Oh jeez. It wasn’t that bad,” Jack insisted.

“I can’t even talk to you about this right now. Take me home,” he demanded.

Jack grumbled, but he started the car. They drove in silence all the way to August’s house. Jack kept his hands clutched tightly on the steering wheel as they pulled into the driveway.

“I’ll see you later,” August said. He opened the door and stepped out.

“Do you … do you have to go?” Jack asked quietly. “It’s a Friday night…”

August just stood silently, door wide open. “I should say no to you,” he said after some time.

Jack waited.

Finally, August got back in the car.

BOLD