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Amelia fell asleep smiling, too. Wet-haired and stuffy-nosed and bone-chilled but smiling.
I plan to keep her that way as long as possible, even if it means going to jail for maiming the man attempting to break down our front door.
Even before I haul my ass out of bed and check the peephole to confirm the culprit, I have a warning prepped. “Get the fuck out of here Dylan.”
He does no such thing, instead pressing his ugly face closer to the door, insipid eyes glaring. “Let me see her.”
“No fucking way.“
Fists slam against the door viciously, so loud I’m forced to open it a crack—safety chain firmly in place—just to stop the brutal noise. The last thing I want is Amelia waking up and wandering out here.
“Luna,“ Dylan warns, shoulders square as he straightens to his full height in an attempt at intimidation, and maybe it would work if he didn’t only have three measly inches on me. If I didn’t already know he’s a coward who slams car doors in girls’ faces for fun. If I hadn’t long since put a lock and key on the part of my brain that allows fear over unworthy opponents.
“Dylan,“ I spit back. “Leave or I swear to God I'll rip your fucking balls off.”
“You think you’re such tough shit.” He scoffs, baring his teeth like the dog he is, breath stinking of whiskey and cigarettes. “Let me see my girlfriend or you'll regret it. That’s a promise.”
“Pretty sure the cops call that a threat.” When his mouth opens to retort, I cut him off by holding up my phone, showing 911 already dialed with my thumb hovering over the call button. “You have three seconds before I call them.”
I don’t wait to see if he makes the wrong decision; I slam the door, triple-check the locks, and pray to whatever high power exists. Jaw aching with how hard I clench my teeth, I glare through the peephole, palms braced as if that could possibly stop it from caving in if he decided he wanted it to. I don’t relax, not even a little bit, until the fist hovering mid-air falls achingly slowly. I wait until he’s completely disappeared from sight before moving to the window, hands shaking as they nudge the curtains aside so I can watch as he climbs in his car and drives away.
“Who was at the door?”
Swearing under my breath, I spin to find Amelia lurking in her bedroom doorway, heels of her palms rubbing at squinted eyes. “Pitbull,” I lie, our drug-dealing lookalike neighbor the first thing that comes to mind. “There’s a car boxing him in and he wanted to know if it was us.” With one last peek outside, I let the curtains full shut and shuffle toward Amelia, herding her back into her room with an arm around her shoulder. “Let’s go back to sleep.”
9
JACKSON
We're in Greenies.
Again.
A common fucking occurrence lately.
We always start somewhere else yet end up here. Like it’s kismet or some shit.
We lost Cass along the way, replacing him with other guys from the team, a swap I’m less than happy about. They’re fine. Just a bit…muchfor me. Vinny is loud enough to break eardrums, Jay can’t carry a conversation that doesn’t involve sex, and Frankie does little more than chug beer and belch.
Plus, I’m not a fan of the girls they brought with them, particularly the one who’s ended up perched on my lap through no encouragement of mine. My disinterest is clear—or, at least, I think it is—yet she keeps rubbing my thigh and whispering things I think are supposed to be alluring in my ear but kind of just make me cringe. Only politeness and the lack of room in our cramped booth stops me from shoving her off.
I pretend to listen to her spout incoherent nonsense about baseball but really, unsurprisingly, my focus is elsewhere. Namely, it’s flitting around the diner following the path of an uncharacteristically frazzled blonde.
It looks like she’s braving the masses alone tonight, the sole provider for the droves of drunk students demanding another one, and as unhappy as the situation makes me—something about seeing Luna so clearly uncomfortable strikes a bum chord within me—I can’t compare to the man squished beside me.
I wonder if Nick thinks he’s being subtle, with the way he cranes his neck slightly to peer around the diner. Brows drawn together sullenly. Lips pursed in a permanent disappointed pout. The girl perched on his knee has spent the better part of an hour fighting a losing battle for his attention, and with a chime of the bell above the front door, she’s defeated. Blatantly rejected as Nick actually shucks her from his lap, the poor thing scrambling for a moment before finding a new purchase on Jay’s knee.
The mysterious Red waltzes into the room and everyone else ceases to exist for my friend. His golden eyes glow as she approaches, her pencil poised ready to scribble our order, her smile falsely bright as she asks, “What can I get you?”
Even if he hadn’t adopted the unholy trinity of a lazy slouch, a cocked head, and a crooked brow, I would’ve anticipated Nick’s snarky response before it leaves his mouth; the man just can’t help himself. The goddamn twinkle in his eyes screams trouble long before he does. “Are you even old enough to be here?”
Red purses her lips, fire flickering in green eyes as they narrow, something saccharine lacing her tone as she retorts, “Are you? I'm afraid I'll need to see some ID.”
The burgeoning chuckles die out immediately.
Except for mine; I can’t keep from smiling as I rummage for my ID, shaking my head at Nick’s expression; nothing short of lovestruck. I think he likes the girl even more now. Hell, I like her; anyone who refutes Nick’s attitude rather than falling to their knees and kissing his feet is a winner in my book.Andshe, when they fail to cough up IDs, gets rid of the girls with a shrug and a ‘hey, what can you do?’ kinda smile.
Wins all around.
