Page 68 of Intrepid

“What makes you think you’re any different?”

I shrugged and sat back, as the waitress I’d come to know as Ronnie set our plates down. An enormous cheeseburger, toppling with pickles and ketchup and mustard, took up most of the plate, leaving little room for the shoestring fries, crisped to perfection.

“Anything else I can get you two?” Hands set on her hips, Ronnie shot Ty a wink I probably wasn’t supposed to catch.

We both responded, “No.”

Not wasting any time, I lifted the burger and bit into its messy goodness, my eyes rolling back at the explosion of flavor that danced inside my mouth.

Ty lifted his burger as if to do the same, then lowered it, watching me with a cocked brow.

“Sorry,” I said around a second bite. “I’ve been dying for a good burger. This is awesome.”

I’d never been known for being a dainty eater, but half-starved made me downright graceless as I went to town on the burger. Lost to the mercy of my taste buds, I almost didn’t catch Ty staring at me the whole time, his tongue sweeping across his lips between bites. Self-consciousness had never been my thing, but the way he looked at me, I couldn’t tell if he wanted to eat me, or confiscate my food. The natural intensity of his eyes hit like a stun gun sometimes, rendering me paralyzed.

Then he seemed to blink out of it.

“If you pursued art, what would you do?” he asked, shoveling four fries at a time into his mouth.

I set the quarter of the burger I’d literally tried forcing myself to finish onto the plate of half-eaten fries. “I guess that’s the problem when you simply love something. Sometimes, you don’t have a plan.” Sitting forward, I sipped the last of my soda, drawing up the final bits of whipped cream with an obnoxious gurgle, and washed down my food.

“So, when do I get to see this art?”

Good question. I hadn’t drawn much of anything in the last few weeks, for which I blamed school. Sitting for hours in classes I couldn’t have given a damn about killed my inspiration, and not even the erotic books, or porn, could coax me into sketching. “As soon as I get my mojo back I guess.”

“What happened to it?” He popped the last of his burger into his mouth, and my eyes zeroed in on his jaw, the smooth lines and muscles flexing with every chew. Mesmerizing. “Thought art was sex for you.”

“It is. And I’ve been deprived for way too long.” Stabbing the cherry, I lifted it from the bottom of my glass and sucked it clean as it dangled from the end of the straw. I popped it into my mouth, looking up to see Ty’s eyes, riveted on the act, and his Adam’s apple bobbed with a swallow.

Clearing my throat, I set the straw inside the glass and sat back on the seat. “I like cherries,” I said sheepishly, wondering if he felt as though he’d taken a toddler out for dinner.

“Yeah.” Head kicked to the side, he kept his eyes on me. “Hey, Ronnie!” he called to the waitress, who sat scrolling through her phone at the end of the bar. “I’ll take our check.”

* * *

Dragging me by the arm, Ty led me across Beaufait, to his bike parked at the curb. He didn’t bother to look back at me as he handed me the black helmet and climbed onto the bike. Confusion spun through my head like a record skipping on a turntable, replaying the last few things I’d said to him inside the restaurant.

My irrational side had convinced the rational half that he’d gotten turned off by watching me eat the burger, and if that was the case, to hell with him. I wasn’t one of those prissy birds who pretended not eat because she didn’t want to admit that a big fat juicy burger tasted pretty damn good, sometimes. Annoyed, I climbed onto the back and half-heartedly wrapped my arms around him.

Ty fired up the bike, and we took off down the street, into the shadowy neighborhoods of the east side—places I did my best to avoid whenever possible.

So stupid.

Much as I tried to distract myself with the scary ass block we’d driven through, I couldn’t let the restaurant thing go. It just seemed petty to me.

Unless, of course, it had nothing to do with anything I’d said, or did. After all, he’d been anxious from the get-go about something.

My head didn’t have a chance to settle, before Ty made a sharp turn into the cracked parking lot of a fire-gutted strip mall, and a whole new question mark popped in my head.

What the hell?

I sat up on the seat, as he rolled the bike to a stop, suddenly wondering if he planned to drop me off there.

The moment he cut the engine, he slid from the bike, hands rubbing his skull while he paced. I could see the tight clench of his jaw, the pissed off angle of his brow, and hell if my pulse didn’t kick up another notch.

“Fuck!” he growled, still pacing beside me.

I tugged off the helmet, seriously clueless as to what the heck was bothering him, had been bothering him since he’d picked me up from Jo’s. “You wanna tell me what’s wrong?”