Disorderly

by Grace, Hazel

  ___

  Stepping into Mick’s Coney, I plop myself in one of the stools at the counter. I feel like an asshole, for one. I practically slept through the whole movie, drooling over Noah’s shirt. I should be on a list for the world’s worst dater. I swear if I never hear from him again after tonight, I’d completely understand.

  Secondly, I’m pissed at Paige. She left all the lights on at the bakery and we don’t have extra money to be throwing at the electricity bill right now. It’s unlike her to keep things on, especially when she’s always reminding me of turning things off.

  Then an alarm goes off in my head.

  What if Paige was kidnapped?

  I didn’t check the drawer to see if we were robbed. Maybe they took her and the money. I haven’t heard of a high crime rate in this town, but it’s in the middle of fucking nowhere, so what the hell do I know? I could be living in the middle of a cult, and we could be on their radar to convert over to it.

  Grabbing my cell out of my purse, I call her. The phone rings once, then I go to voicemail.

  Shit.

  I call again, same thing. I’m on the verge of having a full-blown panic attack right here when her voicemail goes off again.

  “Hey,” a male voice greets next to me.

  “Hi,” I reply automatically. The phone rings more than once this time.

  Oh, thank God. She might not be in a wooded area or in a dark, damp basement.

  Then phone goes to voicemail.

  Motherfucker.

  “You waiting for somebody?”

  I shake my head. “No.” I begin to text Paige.

  Me: You either need to call me back or text the secret password, so I know you’re okay.

  I stare at my phone filled with apps I don’t even go on anymore, tapping my foot on the metal bar under my stool.

  Hurry the fuck up, Paige.

  “That’s surprising. A pretty thing like you sitting in a lonely diner all by herself. If you’re not waiting for someone, you must be looking for something.”

  Paige: Fuck off, bitch.

  I smile. The secret password.

  Me: Ass clown, you left the lights on in the bakery.

  Paige: Oh shit! Sorry! John texted me to have drinks. I got excited and left.

  “Who the hell is John?” I say to myself out loud.

  “I’m not.” A hairy arm touches mine and the voice sounds closer. “But I can be whoever you want me to, sweetie.”

  Viewing over to my right, I’m greeted by a beefy guy with a small goatee, red blotches on his cheeks, and a leather vest that says, ‘Save a horse, ride a biker boy’.

  Lame as hell.

  “No thanks.”

  He sees me eyeing his vest because I’m met with a shit-eating grin. “Want to give it a shot, sweetheart? I could change your life.”

  “I’ll pass.” Going back to my phone, I start tapping at my keys.

  Me: Can’t wait to hear about him. Must have SLIPPED your mind because I don’t—

  His large hand covers my phone. “I’m talking to you, sweetheart. Let’s get out of here and—”

  “Get your fuckin’ hand off my phone,” I snap.

  It may be the pressure, the stress, the fact that I haven’t been able to settle down for years, but my temper just explodes. Or the memory of Jerry coming into my room and touching all my belongings, hiding my car keys, and making my life a continuing hell, shoots memories to the front of my brain.

  Biker Boy’s hand flies off my phone as he holds both arms in silent surrender.

  “Whoa, whoa,” he coos. “Okay, damn. Didn’t mean to make you mad. You must be a firecracker in—”

  “Motherfucker, you say ‘bed’, I’m going to knock your big ass off that stool. Get the fuck away from me. I’m not interested in your tiny dick and your apparent growing obliviousness.” I look back at my phone. “Geezus fuck.”

  “Listen, you little bitch—”

  I push back my stool.

  Bitch.

  Yeah. I heard the name a lot when Jerry would corner me in my room, and I’d greet him with a punch or a kick when he’d tried to grope me. That’s how Paige got so good with makeup. She would cover my black eyes and bruises so the principal or teachers wouldn’t question where it came from. I could only fall down a flight of stairs so many times.

  Before the violence, Jerry was a friend. We bonded over Taylor Swift, and he bought me a red guitar for Christmas the following year. It was the best gift I’d received since Dad died. Mom didn’t understand me or know who I was, and the designer dresses that she gave me had no sentimental value.

  Then all Jerry’s kindness stopped, and I promised myself when I left home that no man would ever treat me with such disrespect, or touch me or my shit again.

  Standing on my heeled boots—that gave me only maybe two inches—the height gives me a little bit of confidence. “Let’s go, asshole.”

  “Huh?” He scratches at his receding hairline and studies me like I’m a freak of nature.

  “C’mon. You called me out. Don’t you bikers duel it out on the street or something?”

  He continues to look at me like I’ve gone crazy. Maybe I have. I want to punch the shit out of this guy because I know I have pent-up anger. My therapist didn’t help, I just remember her smacking her gum and asking me what I was going to do to get past it.

  That would be to kill the asshole named Jerry.

  But since that is frowned upon in society, my inner rage burns deep within me, and it’s guys like Biker Boy, who waltz around thinking they can take and pick whatever they like when they want it.

  Not today. And not with me. Jerry took some of me away on that night, but he didn’t take my life. I fought like hell for that.

  “Sit down, lady,” Biker Boy grumbles.

  “Then get the fuck out.” I point toward the door. “I’m going to count to ten and if your ass isn’t out by the time I get there, I’m going to make a fucking scene.” Biker boy continues to sit, calling my bluff. “One.” He sips his Pepsi. “Two.” He peers over his shoulder at me like I’m a nut job. “Five.” His eyes widen. “Eight.”

  “Alright, alright!” Standing from his stool, he towers over me. “Crazy broad.” He exits the diner, leaving a few people staring at me. I don’t break their gaze until they go back to their meal. I might be irrational at times, but I’m not fucking nuts.

  Not yet.

  Sitting back down, I clench my phone in my hands, thoughts of Jerry piercing through my head. His lanky body pressing me up against our front door, breathing all over my skin.

  “You’ve gotten so pretty, Nova,” Jerry rasps, his lips grazing my neck.

  I bring my shoulder up to block any more advancement on my sensitive skin. “Where’s Mom?” I’m hoping it’ll trigger him to realize that this isn’t right.

  I don’t want this, but I’m scared, and I don’t want to make this worse. I don’t understand why he’s doing this, we're friends. He picks me up from school everyday and orders us take-out because Mom is never home.

  “Out,” he deadpans, his hand finding my waist. His long fingers dig into my flesh, making me wince.

  I try to slip past him, but he pins his body closer. “I have homework.”

  “It can wait.” His wet lips kiss below my ear as warning signals keep going off in my head.

  My hands find his chest, and I begin to shove. “Jerry, stop.”

  His chuckle rings in my ear. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

  It’s the moment his tongue touches my skin that I start to hit panic mode. Using the back of the door, I attempt to jab my way away from him with my elbows.

  “C’mon Princess. The more you struggle, the more I want you.”

  “I’m telling you woman, you have balls and a nice ass.” Shaking myself out of my hazy thoughts, Wyatt comes into view. He’s sitting in Biker Boy’s spot, a handsome grin on his face as his mossy green eyes study me.

  “Huh?”

  He r
aises a brow. “Fishing for compliments?”

  I close my eyes, shaking my head. “No. I was just...deep in thought.”

  He nods toward my phone. “Everything alright?”

  “Yeah.” Spinning the top of my stool, I lay my elbows over the countertop. Wyatt makes a movement, but I don’t see what it is. That is until a waitress I’ve never seen here before stands in front of us.

  “Hey Wyatt,” she greets, her tongue touching the tip of her pencil. Her white uniformed shirt has two of the top buttons loosened, showing off a touch of her purple lacy bra.

  “Hey Brandy. Give the lady a cheeseburger with mustard, extra pickles and a side of chili curly fries.” He glances over the menu real quick before depositing it back between the sugar and other condiments. “I’ll have the same thing, but add cheese on my fries and a cherry Pepsi for the both of us.”

  Brandy gives me a once over, which ends in a glare that I’m not worthy to have food ordered for me. “Sure thing.”

  I ignore her and wrinkle my nose. “You’re disgusting. Cheese on fries?”

  “And you’re un-American,” he counters, taking off his brown leather coat and placing it on the other side of me. “There, shouldn’t have any more problems.”

  “You sure I’m not looking at one?”

  Wyatt tucks his chin in his chest, smiling. “Nah. Not tonight.”

  My phone vibrates in my hand, but I don’t click it on, as I’m still trying to shake off my previous thoughts of my past. Breathing deeply through my nose, I hold it for five seconds then release. This shit is getting old, I’m tired of being attacked by memories that won’t escape my mind.

  Brandy brings us our drinks, tossing a straw in my direction while tearing the white paper of Wyatt’s to place in his cup, still leaving a small bit of the paper on the top.

  “Need anything else right now?” she asks.

  “No thanks,” Wyatt replies. She turns on her heel, walking away like a Victoria’s Secret model, swaying her ass. Then I notice she’s wearing heels, and I hope her snotty ass trips on a grease trail.

  “Your exit is better,” Wyatt informs me.

  I glance over at him. “Which one?”

  “Damn, that’s right. You’ve flicked me off twice in the little time I’ve known you. But the last one was my favorite.”

  A nervous chuckle escapes my mouth. “Ah, yes, your comment about my ass. Weirdo.”

  “Am I lucky or do you do that to every guy in your path?”

  I bite my lip and swirl my Pepsi with my straw. “Nope, just you, sir.”

  My phone vibrates, rattling against the hard surface as I scoop it up.

  Noah: Hey gorgeous, just making sure you were alright.

  I groan inwardly.

  Me: So sorry. I got distracted with Paige and it slipped my mind.

  Noah: I’m that easily forgettable huh? You wound me.

  Me: Never. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.

  Noah: *eyes perk up* I’m holding you to it, gray eyes. Night.

  “He’s wrong,” Wyatt interjects.

  I take a sip of soda. “With what?”

  “Your eyes are graphite with blue edges.” My immediate attention bares down on him. I was so caught up in Noah’s text, I didn’t even catch that he was peering on my phone.

  “There you go again,” I huff. “Creeping.”

  He shrugs. “Good to know who you’re dealing with.”

  “And that would be?”

  “That you are a straight up copier.”

  I raise a brow. “Copier?”

  “You counted down to get someone to split.”

  Ah yes, Katherine in the stairwell. He counted down to get her to leave us alone. I burst out in laughter and tuck my head in between my folded arms. Oh my God, not only do my thoughts drift to him but now I’m starting at act like him too.

  Maybe I’m the damn creep.

  “You have a genuine laugh,” Wyatt says. I can’t look up, I’m hopeless. I know my cheeks are flush red, and I’m already embarrassed.

  The sound of plates clink next to me, and I know our food has arrived.

  “What’s wrong with her?” Brandy asks, not bothering to keep her irritated tone to herself.

  There goes your tip, bitch.

  I bring my head up, latching my eyes onto hers. “You don’t want to know what he just whispered in my ear, hun. It’s not for virgin ears.”

  Pursing her lips, she leans toward Wyatt, palms down, practically shoving her tits in his face. “I’ll be back to check on you.” Her voice is low and seductive, but it doesn’t seem to affect him because he takes a bite of his burger with a shit-eating grin in my direction. He surprises me, most men would ogle her boobs.

  Shit, I was.

  “Why are you staring at me?” he asks, smirking when he pops a fry in his mouth.

  I place my chin in the cup of my palm. “Oh, you know,” I say in a dreamy voice. “Just planning our wedding in my head. What our children will look like. Basic girl shit.”

  Wyatt chuckles, shaking his head. “You ain’t basic, baby.”

  The way the word baby rolls off his tongue sends goosebumps down my arms. Imagining his deep voice whispering against my skin while he backs me up against a wall again, I swallow to keep my mouth from going dry.

  Wyatt picks up a fork and attacks his chili cheese fries, piquing my curiosity. He oozes hazardous, like a caution light beckoning me to watch out or get hurt. But Rugged has manners, which surprises me, and I can’t help but be intrigued.

  “A fork?” I ask with widen eyes.

  Glancing down at his shirt, he looks at me. “It’s my favorite shirt, don’t want food on it.”

  I tug at it, so I can get a better look at it. “The Used? Really?”

  He frowns. “Don’t break my heart and tell me you aren’t the girl I thought you were.”

  “I’m just...shocked. You look more like a heavy metal type guy.”

  He rubs his beard. “Must be the facial hair.”

  “Or the tattoos.” On his forearm is a bird, outlined in black with no color but on the ends of its feathers. It looks like a Phoenix to me. The detailing in the shading of the black ink is perfect, so perfect that I find my fingers grazing the lines. It wraps around his whole arm, and I lean closer to see underneath.

  “It’s beautiful.”

  “Took two days to do.” He takes another bite of his burger, followed by another fry. He doesn’t elaborate, and I don’t ask. Some things don’t need to be hashed up. “Do you have any tattoos?”

  Grabbing a fry, I dip it in my chili before eating it. “No.”

  “Why not?” he asks between chews.

  “I’ve thought about it, but nothing has inspired me to get one.”

  “Ah, smart too. I like you, Aurora, but sometimes it's nice to live on the wild side.”

  No, thank you.

  “What a relief,” I tease, ignoring his comment. “Thought it’d always be just my ass.”

  His lips quirk. “Ah, that ass will always hold a special place with me.”

  I toss one of my fries at him. “Knock it off.”

  “I think that cute top your wearing is my favorite so far.” I feel a blush creep on my cheeks and his eyes burning my body and back up. “What was the special occasion?”

  I stifle down a sigh. There is no reason why I should be nervous in telling him my answer, and I know I’m skating over a fine line right now. “I was on a date.”

  Wyatt nods. “Oh yeah, Nathan.” He chews the rest of his food before continuing. “Dude is an idiot.”

  “It’s Noah.”

  He forks more fries in his mouth and you’d think it’d be unattractive, like he was in a fry eating contest, but I don't think anything he could do would make me cringe. I like how he feels comfortable in his own skin.

  Wyatt wipes his mouth with a napkin, his bottom lip jutting out, and I can’t stop staring. “You’re seeing a guy named Noah?”

  Needing something t
o focus on, I take a bite of my burger, not caring about cutting it in half like I normally would in public. I should wear a bib at all times, but I’m not that daring.

  “So?” I say while chewing.

  “What does he do, build arks and shit?”

  “Hardy har har.” I roll my eyes. “I wonder how many times he’s heard that one.”

  Wyatt scoffs. “Probably more than he can count.”

  I scrunch my nose. “Oww…burn.” He snorts in the middle of taking a sip of his Pepsi and starts to cough, hitting his fist on his chest. I slap his back and chuckle. “Easy there, killer.”

  His eyes water as he wipes them with a napkin. “Trying to kill me?”

  I shake my head. “Silly man, I did attack you the other day, didn’t I?”

  “Isn’t attacking when your so-called victim enjoys it.”

  I open my mouth to comment but his words sink in and render me speechless. Images of us in that stairwell flood my mind and, with the way his eyes are baring into my skin, I know he’s remembering it as well. His simple touch running up my ribs, his soft lips drinking me in so simply, sends the temperature in the diner scorching.

  “Ms. Smarty pants has nothing to say?” he taunts, forking another fry. I want to fan my face but keep my obvious roasting of our—wait, probably my—passionate moment at bay. I’m sure Wyatt has sexcapades on a daily basis.

  I exhale a deep, loud breath and shake my head while looking to study my burger. “It’s unfortunate, really.”

  “What is?” Wyatt asks between chews.

  “That our time has been cut short.” I meet his eyes, keeping them emotionless as I’m reunited with his greens. “That I have to move up my plan to now take you out.” He raises a brow. “Assassin’s’ Creed style.”

  He smirks and rolls his eyes. “Now she has jokes.”

  “If Biker Boy wouldn’t had left, I would’ve had to convey my skills after I’ve been trying to keep them a secret.”

  “Sure, baby, and I’m Bruce-fucking-Wayne.”

  I’m sure he has no idea how pathetically responsive I am to him right now and the word ‘baby' slipping off his lips again. The more I sit here, the more I realize how much I’ve missed out on.

  “Anything else I can grab for you?” It’s Brandy again with her annoying-as-hell seductive voice.