On Her Side

“All right,” Christian said, glancing at his buzzing phone. “Call me tomorrow. We’ll hang, play the new Call of Duty.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Christian walked out, texting as he went. Dude’s girlfriend liked to keep close tabs on him.

Tanner waited a minute, then two, but Jessica didn’t come back out from behind those swinging doors where she’d disappeared after taking Josh down a peg. The back of his neck got itchy. He hunched his shoulders and glanced around, saw Keira Seagren, a cute redhead in his grade who also worked there, watching him curiously. Feeling like an idiot, he lifted his hand in a half-assed wave and then walked out into the warm night.

Hands shoved into the pockets of his cargo shorts, he kept his head down and turned the corner to the parking lot behind the tall, blue building. The setting sun glowed brightly, stark against the darkness of the cloudless sky, reminding him of that scene in Star Wars where Luke steps outside to watch the two suns of his planet go down. The warmth of the day hung in the air, promising a hot, sticky night.

He rounded the back of a blue Camry and stopped, his mom’s keys falling from his hand to land with a soft jingle on the concrete.

Jessica was there. Sitting on the top of a picnic table at the far end of the parking lot, her back to him, her head down, her light hair and white shirt like beacons in the growing darkness.

She turned to face him. He couldn’t move, didn’t know what to do. Even with the distance between them, he could feel the heat from her glare. She didn’t want to talk to him.

Figured she’d rather castrate him.

And damn Mr. Bauchman, his freshman year science teacher, for showing them that video of what castration entailed. He seriously could’ve lived his entire life without ever knowing its definition, let alone witnessed how it was done to bulls.

Her head held high, she turned away again. He quickly scooped up his keys. Eyes on the ground, he wove between two pickups to his mom’s minivan. Unlocked and opened the door.

And made the mistake of glancing at her.

Before he could change his mind—or think better of it—he slammed the door shut and walked over to her.

She stiffened, her shoulders snapping back. “What?” she asked, the word practically dripping frost.

His mouth was dry. His palms damp. When he was a kid, his mom used to tell him that one magical day, he’d outgrow his shyness. It would thrill her if he suddenly started blabbering on about useless, stupid topics. If, even a few times, he struck up a conversation with strangers the way she did.

Why he should do that when he had no interest in doing so, he had no clue. But she still held out hope.

Because other people got nervous when he had nothing to say.

Which he didn’t get. He liked the quiet. Liked listening. Watching. Taking it all in. Even his friends thought he was too shy or scared to talk to girls. Not true. He simply preferred to take his time and think about what he wanted to say first, that was all.

And right now, he wanted her to look at him. Had no problem waiting in silence until she did so.

She huffed out a breath, whirled around. Her eyes were blue, light blue like the midday sky over the water. And right now she was rolling them so far back, she probably caught a glimpse of her brain.

“Okay,” she snapped, “the whole heavy-breathing, prank-phone-call thing is super freaky when you’re doing it in person.”

“You’re not in trouble.” He wasn’t breathing heavily so he saw no reason to respond to that part of her comment. “I told Josh not to report you to your manager.”

She looked at him as if she wanted to plant the thick heel of her shoe in his face. “My hero,” she said, saying hero in a tone usually reserved for slimy-Satan-loving-snake.

He scratched his cheek. “I just thought you should know,” he murmured, feeling like an idiot.

“Look, if you’re hoping to get off tonight, you’ll have to find some other girl.” She sneered, her gaze raking over him in a way that made his balls shrink. “Or you could always take matters into your own hands. I’m sure you have plenty of practice with that.”

He flushed so hard, sweat formed at the back of his neck, a drop of it sliding between his shoulder blades. She was pissed, obviously, and for good reason, but that didn’t mean he had to take shit from her.

Even if she was beautiful.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, “for what happened back there.”

She studied him as is trying to decide if he meant it. But he only said things he meant. That was part of the reason he kept silent so often. He didn’t see any point in spouting a bunch of bullshit. It was so much easier to stick with the truth.