“Every drop counts.”
I slam the door without a response, hearing a muffled chuckle behind me.
After doing some schoolwork, I grab a towel from my room. I brush my teeth and take a quick shower—making sure to lock the adjoining door—then throw an oversized shirt on. Crawling into bed, I pull the covers over me, then reach for my headphones and CDs from my nightstand. I flip through t
he square black case with doodles from my silver Sharpie decorating the front and back before finding my sleep mix. I pop it in and snuggle into my pillow as “Mix Tape” by Brand New croons in my ear.
Keeping my thoughts from drifting to the boy on the other side of the bathroom is a feat damn near impossible. Why is he so persistent? And what happened to his face? The more I get to know him, the higher my list of questions piles up. I hate that I’m starting to see him in a different light. He was this one-dimensional, manwhore of a jock before, and now, there are layers. Layers that I want to peel back, even though I know I’ll get burned in the process. How am I going to resist Jesse Shepherd when we’re under the same roof for two whole months?
And as I’m weighing the pros and cons of giving into temptation, I also give in to sleep.
* * *
“WHAT’S SO FUNNY?” LO ASKS, as I’m smiling down at my phone during my shift.
“My grandma seems to have just figured out how to use emojis,” I explain, showing her my phone screen. She messaged me to let me know I could access the garage where all my dad’s things are, followed by every heart, rainbow, and flower available.
“Damn.” She laughs. “She’s better with that shit than I am. I repel technology.”
“That’s sad, Lo.”
“This coming from the girl who rocks a portable CD player?” She shoots me a look, moving past me with her hands full of plates.
“Touché.”
“Finish up with your table, then take your break,” she instructs, jerking her chin toward the elderly couple who’s been taking up residence in my section for going on three hours, yet has ordered nothing besides two coffees and the soup of the day. Spoiler alert: it’s creamy tomato bisque. It’s always creamy tomato bisque.
“I could be waiting a while.” I sigh.
“Look on the bright side. Doesn’t look like they’ve got much time left,” Lo jokes.
“You’re going to hell.” I smother a smile.
Thankfully, the couple doesn’t stay much longer. I put in an order with Grumpy Pete for a grilled cheese and eat it at the bar, making small talk with Lo while she serves up drinks. Glancing at the clock, I realize I have a few minutes of my break left, so I can’t resist leaning forward to grab a butterscotch sucker out of the bowl.
“Anyone ever tell you, you have the taste buds of an eighty-year-old?” Jesse asks, coming up behind me. When the hell did he get here?
“Let me guess. You’re a cherry fan.” Everyone loves cherry. “Such a cliché.”
“I’ve been known to enjoy a few cherries in my day,” he agrees suggestively, throwing an arm around my shoulders. Gross. “But my favorite happens to be strawberry.”
He plucks the sucker from my mouth, then sticks it into his own. My eyes follow the movement, and I have to peel them away. My stomach swirls at his nearness.
“There’s a whole bowl right there,” I point out. “Get your own.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” He winks then bites into it, eating the whole thing. Lo looks between us with her arms crossed, a mix of suspicion and amusement in her narrowed eyes. I stand from my stool, putting some distance between us. I wipe my greasy hands on the black apron tied around my waist before grabbing my plate.
“Break’s over.” The last thing I need is for Lo, or anyone for that matter, thinking there’s something going on between Jesse and me.
“By the way, we’re leaving early,” Lo calls after me. I turn to face her.
“On a Friday?” I ask, confused.
“One of Dare’s friends from out of town showed up this morning, so we’re going to have some people over tonight.”
“Oh, cool. I can stay with my friend Dylan tonight—”
“Why would you do that?” Lo cuts me off. Her eyebrows pull together in confusion at the same time Jesse’s eyes harden.