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The problem was that I didn’t really want to do that.

There was a romantic living inside me that believed that maybe our booty calls could become something more.

The realist thought the romantic was an idiot.

I was inclined to agree with the inner realist.

They were usually the right ones. At any rate, realists were naturally rather pessimistic, and the great thing about being a pessimist was that you were never really that surprised if something went wrong.

Great surprise if it went right, though.

“Fraternizing with the enemy?” Josh asked, pulling up a chair.

“Yes, please join us,” Piper deadpanned. “And no, I’m eating lunch. I’m allowed to each lunch that I didn’t make.”

“What’s wrong with her?” Colton asked, presumably referring to me.

I had no idea.

I was still up close and personal with the tabletop.

“A slightly late quarter-life crisis,” London replied slowly. “That, or it’s her period.”

Both.

It was both.

“And now I’m not hungry,” Colton said flatly.

“Serves you right for asking.” I sat up and glared at him through my hair. “Since when did you care what’s wrong with me?”

Josh nodded slowly, plucking the menu from his sister’s hand. “I’m gonna say it’s a crisis and the period.”

“Ding ding ding, we have a winner,” I muttered and reached for my coffee.

“What did I win?”

“Nothing.” I sipped. “I’m having a crisis and I’m on my period. Why should you win anything when I’m positively miserable?”

He smiled. “It’s always so good to see you, Tori.”

“I know. I’m a little ray of sunshine.”

“Created by Satan himself,” Colt muttered, sitting next to London. “Did you order yet?”

“No, and now I don’t think I’m going to. I can make a sandwich at home.”

He gave me a flat look. “Jesus Christ. You need a nap.”

“I’m not a toddler.”

“Then stop acting like one.”

“What can I say? You bring out the brat in me.”

London looked between us. “Anyone have the number for a doctor? I think I have whiplash.”

“Welcome to my life.” Josh didn’t look up from the menu. “Are you ready to order? I’ll call Johanna.”

Piper stared at him. “So you’re staying? You’re not going to take the hint that this was a nice, quiet lunch before you showed up?”

“No.” He smiled at her and waved Johanna over.

She looked at me and Colton. “Is this a good idea?”

It was my turn to smile. “No. But I have no choice, evidently.”

“Well, try not to break a window when you attempt to throw him through it.” She flipped a page on the pad. “What can I get you all?”

We all placed our orders, then I called her back. “Do you have any custard pies?”

Johanna tilted her head to the side. “Custard pie? No. Why? I’ve never seen you eat custard pie in my life.”

“Well, the summer fair is coming up, and I wanted to practice my aim,” I mused. “Since Colton is right here and I can’t stand his face, I thought now might be a good time.”

She held up her hands and walked away, shaking her head and muttering something about how she wasn’t even our mother but we were going to kill her anyway.

She wasn’t wrong.

“Do you wake up every morning and think up ways to irritate me or does it just happen?” Colton asked, staring down the table at me.

“It just happens. It comes so naturally that it’s basically second nature now.”

“Do we have to listen to you two bitching at each other all lunch?” Josh asked, looking between us.

Piper snorted. “You’re the ones who sat here. You started it.”

“Don’t you two start,” London said. “I already have enough arguments with a six-year-old who knows everything. I just want to eat some soup and a sandwich in peace.”

“There’s no such thing as peace in White Peak,” I muttered, pulling my phone from my purse. If I was on my phone, I couldn’t argue with Colton. It was rude, sure, but it was be rude or potentially stab him with the nearest sharp object.

Being in a café, that was a knife.

And orange just wasn’t my color.

I had a text from Grandma with way too many emojis for my liking. I replied with the reassurance that I’d be by this afternoon when their yoga class was done and I had everything she’d asked for.

Even the bras.

A notification popped up with a new message.

COLTON: You are pissed today.

ME: Are you really fucking texting me from across the table?

Unbelievable.

COLTON: Who pissed in your cereal?

ME: You. You pissed in my cereal. Go away.

“I’ll be right back,” I said, grabbing my purse. I escaped to the bathroom where I locked myself in the ladies and took care of business, then took a deep breath.

My God.

He was infuriating.

He got under my skin like nobody else, and I wish he’d crawl back out.

I left the cubicle, washed my hands, then made my way back out, almost walking right into Colton. “What are you doing?” I hissed.

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