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“Jamie, why did you text Max?” Wes demanded. Then to me, he added, “He shouldn’t have texted you.”
“I’d want someone to text me,” Jamie said, not even sorry.
“Me too,” Ryan echoed.
“Max is not Madison. Or Rory,” Wes growled, the temper in his voice close to the surface. If I hadn’t been able to sense his shit mood, that would have been all the indication I needed. Wes was good at keeping his temper tucked away.
The leather on my jacket rubbed when I lifted my hand to reach around to the back of his neck, settling my palm at his nape. His entire body softened under the grip, something that wasn’t visible but was impossible not to feel.
The give lasted maybe half a second before he tried to knock my arm away. I just tightened my fingers, gripping him harder.
“What happened?” I repeated.
“Nothing that concerns you. Let go.”
I scraped my nail along the side of his neck.
His eyes snapped to mine, but instead of fight, there was weariness. “I said let go.”
Pursing my lips, I waited a heartbeat, then withdrew my hand. “I still want an answer.”
“Order’s up.” Shirley interrupted, stepping to the table with a giant round tray balanced on her shoulder.
The entire staff here wore name badges that read Shirley. Today, Shirley was a girl with brown hair pulled into two buns. Her lips were painted red, and as she lowered the massive tray, her blue eyes went right to Wes.
“Burger and fries,” she called.
Everyone at the table perked up. Predictable bastards, they always ordered the same thing. She pulled a plate piled high with fries off the tray. Ryan reached out immediately, and she made a little noise, veering the plate toward Wes.
“Wes.”
He glanced at the plate and then at her. “I think that’s Ryan’s.”
“I gave you extra fries tonight too,” she said, a little shy.
“Oh,” Wes echoed, surprise lacing his tone.
Jamie laughed under his breath.
“Thank you, Shirley,” Wes said, grabbing the plate to pull it in.
She wrinkled her nose. “I told you my real name.”
“Right.” Wes agreed, grabbing a fry and shoving it in his mouth. “Thanks, Veronica. I appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome. You look extra hungry.”
A sour flavor coated my tongue as I glanced at the waitress again, her acting like she knew him. He didn’t look extra hungry. He looked worn the hell out.
“Mm,” he said, shoveling another into his mouth. “They’re still hot.”
She smiled and handed out the rest of the plates. When the tray was empty, she glanced at me. “Do you want to order?”
“I’ll just have the same as Wes.”
Her eyes flickered to him again as she nodded. Then to the rest of the table, she said, “Can I get you guys anything else?”
“Waffles,” Jamie said, his voice muffled around all the food jammed in his mouth.
