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Bane shifts the truck into gear, pulls onto the street, and does an immediate U-turn all in the span of ten seconds. The tires squeal in his haste, but I don't think the need for stealth is high anymore.
Not when we saw two different clubs come together to destroy peace.
26
EVANGELINE
I walkdown Main Street and wiggle my fingers to dissipate the lingering adrenaline. My car just decided to stop working ten minutes ago.
While I was driving.
In the middle of the road.
Thank god I'm in Rosewood and not back in the city. I can't even imagine how bad that accident would've been. Thankfully the only thing that's bruised is my ego when I screamed like a child.
And promptly shouted a lot of creative swear word insults to no one in particular as I navigated my car to the side of the road.
I check the time on my phone and quicken my pace, dodging a group of teenagers outside the smoothie place. I grab my hair at the nape of my neck and twist it loosely to toss over my shoulder. I knew I should've worn my hair up today, but my waves were actually laying so nicely that I wanted to embrace them.
I didn't take into account the scorching hot sun today. The hair on the back of my neck stands up, and the sensation of being watched rolls over me.
I glance over my shoulder, expecting the girls I passed to be staring at me but none of them are. I look over my other shoulder, letting my gaze dart around for anyone that might be looking at me, shielded behind my big black sunglasses.
I don't see anyone outright staring, but there are people walking everywhere. Downtown Rosewood is always busy, and doubly so during the summer months.
It's probably just my anxiety playing tricks on me. I was supposed to be at the restaurant to meet Cora three minutes ago. I know she won't really care that I'm late.
But punctuality is one of those things my mother drilled into me too many times. And when I'm stressed, I find myself slipping back into those bad habits.
I exhale and pull open the door to Lunch Box, which ironically is open for lunch and dinner. Air conditioning blasts me in the face, the whirring sound all I hear until I open the second door into the actual restaurant.
Decorated with vintage diner decor, the Lunch Box is an adorable restaurant. Black and white photographs and framed vinyl records hang on the walls, ornate sconces, and classic red vinyl booths.
It's about half-full with the late lunch crowd, soft murmurs and crooning fifties music on the speakers. It smells like a burger cookout in the best way, and my mouth waters a little.
I pivot on my heel by the hostess stand until I see Cora waving her right arm high in the air.
“Eve, over here!”
I smile and make my way to the booth on the other side of the room, against the front windows.
“Damn, babe. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were a Rosewood native,” Cora practically crows. She whistles and waggles her brows.
I stop in front of the booth, plant my hands on my hips, and slide my right foot forward. I look down at Nana Jo's cowboy boots, pivoting on the ball of my right foot to showcase the bright colors to Cora.
They're the kind of boots you wear when you want to make a statement. I'm not entirely sure what my statement is yet, but I know I want to make one.
I sink my teeth into my bottom lip, insecurity blanketing some of my bravado. “Are they too much?”
“On you? Never,” Cora says with a wink.
“You sure?” My eyes find hers, searching for sincerity underneath the gentle teasing.
“Positive. I love this laidback style you've adopted since you got here. It's more you than any of that frilly shit your mom makes you wear.”
“She doesn't make me, Cora. I'm not a child.” I scoff and drop my arms and slide into the seat across from her. The red leather creaks under my shifting weight.
“Eve, you know I love you, right?”
