Page 19

Nana’s smells like fryer oil and burnt coffee. The old fashioned decor feels like home after four years of coming here. And we head over to our normal booth by the window, pulling up an extra chair for Reed.

At least, here, Peter is just Peter and not the guy with the C on his uniform. The second the waitress comes over, Eli orders his dessert as if it’s the most important part of his meal.

“Dessert?” Reed asks.

“It’s just what he does. I think he runs on sugar,” I say. Then I order a water and some carbs to replenish the energy Peter attempted to punish out of me.

Blue slumps deeper into his seat, and if he were any lower, he’d be under the table. “I think I need one of everything,” he grumbles.

“You won’t be late next time, huh?” Peter says smugly.

He shrugs. “Sorta worth it. You’d be late too if you knew what April’s mouth can do.”

“You’re such a slut,” I say.

“Nothing wrong with protecting my wrists.”

Reed laughs loudly. I’m sure he just feels lucky to be invited, because it wasn’t that funny.

Max arrives five minutes after we’ve ordered, sliding into the booth next to Eli and squishing me into the wall. But I can’t complain, I helped that situation happen. And they are sorta sweet.

Two girls from the counter drift over. Attempting for casual, but screaming puck bunny. One of them apparently knows Blue; honestly, all of them probably know him. And the other one looks vaguely familiar, but I can’t place her name.

Blue straightens in his seat, a grin pulling at his lips. “Ladies, what do we owe the pleasure?”

The first girl sinks her teeth into her lower lip, and I’m sure she thinks it’s sexy. It seems to work on Blue at least because his grin widens. “What are you boys up to after lunch?”

“What do you have in mind?” Blue asks.

She shares a look with her friend, and you don’t need a mind reader to know. And I almost put on a friendly face and offer myself up as tribute, since Peter doesn’t look interested and Reed looks so out of his depth I’m not sure he would be able to function. But then the door swings wide, and I shift my gaze behind the girls long enough to see Quinn step in with the girl from the picture on his bedside table.

Fuck.

I sink into the booth so fast my spine almost hits the bench.

“The fuck,” Blue says.

I grab a menu and hold it in front of my face. “It’s nothing.”

“That definitely doesn’t look like nothing. It looks like you're hiding,” he says.

I hazard a look over the menu toward them. They don’t look around. Instead, they share a look and then she leads him to a booth on the opposite side, at the back of the room.

“I’m stretching. My legs are dead, thanks to Petey.”

“Call me Petey one more time and you won’t have legs.”

“That’s a terrible threat,” Eli quips.

And then the conversation shifts away from me hiding and back to the girls. But I’m focused on where Quinn disappeared. I slowly straighten.

I’m pretty sure friends don’t hide from friends…why did I hide?

The honest answer sits in my throat, making it hard to swallow. Because I got off to his face and the thought of his lips wrapped around my dick. And because his pillow might still have traces of my release. How will I explain that to the science guy?

I set the menu down and take a long drink of my water to try to help my dry throat. It doesn’t help.

Blue kicks my shoe under the table, focused on me again. “You’re being weird.”