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Mags ponders that. "What does that mean? I mean, besides all the shit he has done to you."
I sigh. "He's not going to like whose attention I have since last night." I really don't want to get further into my fucked-up past. I want it to stay there—buried.
"But he helped you," Mags tries again.
I scoff. "Just because he took care of E, doesn't mean he cares about me. He likes control. For all I know, he'll call it in as a favor, and God knows what that'll be."
CHAPTEREIGHT
King.
She's all I can think of over the weekend. Who is this girl?
Saturday, I searched the student directory for hours. Not one female student with the first name King attends the school. Eventually, I resorted to compiling a list of every chick whose first name starts with a K and comparing them to social media accounts in Kai's friends list. With my online presence being limited to seventeen friends, one of them being Den and the rest teammates, I'm looking through my manwhore of a roommate's profile and followers now. There's no one named King or with a photo remotely resembling her or her other two friends: Maggie or Devon.
Fuck.
I want to go back to the bar, but we have a mandatory team meeting at Coach's house every last Saturday of the month. His way of keeping his players close (or in line, as the team jokes). But if I'm honest, I enjoy those evenings at his old log cabin-style house. It's outside of town and up a mountain, and you can only reach it with four-wheel drive and spiked tires once the first snow hits. I bought my bike when I arrived in Stonebriar, but after the first snow, my parents shipped me the 4Runner. I didn't want to bring it—being part of the past and all—but I needed a car that would work here, and I couldn't afford a new one.
Sunday, I inflict an extra-long torture session, aka running and weight lifting, on my body until I wobble to the locker room on shaky legs. But I needed to pass the time somehow until five when The Grizz opened.
Walking through the front door of the bar, my heart is hammering against my chest. My face is flushed, and I swipe my hands on my jeans in nervous anticipation. I'm acting like a complete idiot. She—King—almost plowed me over with her Jeep, then threatened me with a fucking knife. But here I am, tongue out like an obedient puppy, waiting for his treat.
She would be a treat, that's for sure.
The place is still mostly empty. Behind the counter are two dudes I haven't seen before. Neither King nor her friend is in sight. Shit.
I saunter up to the bar and plant my ass on one of the stools. The older guy walks over. He's tatted up his neck and down both arms, his long beard is way past the socially acceptable length of attractive, and his unwashed hair is tied back in what I learned is a man bun. Ever since I lost a bet to Kai over winter break, I have had the samehairdo. Losing the bet, I was supposed to shave my head, but thankfully we never defined how much, and I got away with the sides. But when I started tying the rest back, the jersey chasers got out of control. Chicks apparently get all wet for a guy with a girly hairstyle.
"What can I get you?"
He leans his tree trunk-like forearms on the bar top in front of me. This dude is in such a contrast to the high-end interior and the rest of the staff—all younger college-age kids, from what I've observed.
"I'm looking for King." I don't see a reason to beat around the bush. Plus, I don't play games.
His features shift, and I straighten my shoulders automatically. With his mouth pressed to a slit, I notice his fingers curl into fists.
A burning sensation spreads through my chest. Why is this guy reacting this way? Is there something going on between them? Why I care, I'm not sure—but I do.
"Why are you looking for my employee?"
Employee?
"You're the owner?" My eyebrows shoot up. I'm briefly distracted from my mission by this inked mountain being the owner of the place.
"You got any problem with that,kid?" he sneers at me.
I don't like the way he calls me kid, but going all alpha on him will get me booted out on the street.
"No problem at all." I relax my posture. "So, King? Is she working tonight?" I glance around as if she might jump out of the back room, arms extended like,Here I am!
"She is not here."
No shit.
It takes every ounce of self-control not to drop a sarcastic remark. "When is she scheduled to work?"
He cocks his head and gives me an up and down examination I haven't seen since Katherine Rosenfield, the fallen queen of Westbridge High.
