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Nothing big. I just think you should come.
On my way.I practically stabbed the words into the phone and hit send.
Shoving the cell into my jacket pocket, I threw my leg over the motorcycle, straddling the seat as the engine rumbled to life. It was cold out, too cold to drive this bike around, but I would do it until the snow forced me off the road.
I drove to Shirley’s practically on autopilot. Wes and his swim buddies spent almost as much time at the diner as they did in their dorm rooms. Even though it was an eatery for mainly college students, it was still nice. Westbrook was too monied for it to be a silver bullet parked on the side of the road. Instead, it was a small-ish brick building with its own parking lot and big windows at the side that looked across the street into a grove of trees.
Jamie’s and Ryan’s Jeep Wrangler Rubicons were hogging spots beside each other, and Wes’s black BMW was parked nearby. Even knowing he was inside and having Jamie assure me whatever was going on wasn’t a big deal, I was still keyed up.
Thing is itwasa big deal if Jamie texted. It was the first time one of Wes’s friends had ever texted me like this. I mean, sure, Jamie texted before, but it was usually about his girl Madison or something unimportant.
This was different. I felt it. I wondered if Wes knew I’d been texted. Likely not. He’d be pissed and prickly. I didn’t even brace myself for his bratty attitude as I tugged off the black helmet and climbed off the bike. Cold air bit my ears and nose, the tips of my fingers already stinging from the wind. Dark hair dropped over my forehead, into my eyes, and I shook it back, ignoring when it fell right back into the same place.
Wes’s bratty attitude was normal for me, and frankly, I’d take it over any kind of weird emergency. I was over being called to let me know the cops were anywhere in his vicinity. At least tonight it was just his friends and diner food.
It’s not, or Jamie wouldn’t have texted.
The bell jingled when I pushed through the glass door, warm air hitting me in the face and making my cold features even icier. My stare flickered over the counter stretching along the back wall and the staff working behind it. About half the ivy-green stools were occupied, but I bypassed them to focus immediately on the booths lining the wall and windows.
Elite always sat in the same spot, toward the back in the green vinyl booths parked right up against the windows. Wes was seated on the inside, closest to the window, his dark head bowed. He never did grow out of the mop of big loopy curls he had when we were kids. The only difference was now he kept the sides and back closely cropped. The top was longer, wilder with the loose curls flopping everywhere.
We both had dark hair, but mine was blacker, just like my heart. Where my hair seemed to absorb the light, Wes’s reflected it, the dark loops appearing more dimensional than I would ever be.
My boots were heavy against the floor as I wasted no time heading straight toward them.
Ryan glanced up, giving me a silentwhat-upwith his chin
“Bro,” Jamie called out, noticing me almost as fast as Ryan.
Wes’s head lifted, and his dark eyes widened a fraction. “Max?”
Yeah, something was up. I could smell it on him. I could see it in the way he slouched into the booth and the depth of his eyes.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“Saw your car in the lot as I was driving by. I haven’t eaten yet.” I lied.
“Have a seat, bro.” Jamie scooted closer to Ryan to make room for me.
I ignored the gesture and stared at the two guys sitting by Wes. The guy on the end, Kruger I thought, stood up and moved over beside Jamie.
The other dude with the Airpods didn’t seem to get the memo, so I stared at him harder. Beneath the table, someone kicked him, which brought his head up and then around to look at me. Grimacing, he slid out so I could take his place, which I did immediately, gliding across the bench until our legs brushed together from hip to knee.
Wes stared at me out of the corner of his eye, and I expected him to shift away, but then he sighed and settled back, our shoulders bumping.
He’s definitely upset.
“Sit down, Prism. He won’t bite,” Kruger said when the Airpod-wearing swimmer just shuffled beside the booth.
Prism didn’t move, and Wes elbowed me. Sighing, I glanced at his friend, gesturing for him to sit.
My attention went back to Wes and how his shoulder pressed against the cold glass of the window. The sudden urge to strip off my jacket and shove it between him and the glass caught me off guard. “What’s going on?” I asked, harsher than intended.
Wes tensed, eyes firing across the table to his bros. “You texted him.”
Ryan glanced at Jamie, and Wes’s eyes narrowed.
“Way to throw me under the bus, bro,” Jamie told Ryan.
