by Scott, S. L.
“Rich, college kids,” she replies, eyeing them. “I need the tip.”
“You got it. Take a break.”
As if I just made her day, she puts a hand on her hip. “You’re too good to me, Josh. Thanks.”
“No worries.”
She delivers the sodas to another table, and I wipe my hands on the rag tied to my belt loop. I learned a long time ago not to judge a book by its cover. I’m a prime example of that cliché. But I can tell by the air of arrogance that surrounds them that these guys take advantage of others who might not have the same privilege.
They’re the future assholes sitting on heads of boards in the city while everyone else does the grunt work. Reminds me of my father.
I’ve never been bitter about other people having money. I’d love the luxury of throwing some cash around like it’s nothing. Who wouldn’t? But I’ll never treat others like my mom was once treated. So despite the pastel-colored collars slipping out from under Yale sweatshirts I couldn’t afford, I ask, “What can I get you?”
“The waitress back,” says the second guy on my right in the booth. “She’s a lot prettier to look at. No offense.”
“No offense taken. It’s true, but you’re stuck with me.” They have drinks, so I prod, “Ready to order?”
A light-haired guy with slicked-back hair on my left says, “You seem to have a chip on your shoulder. We’re not here to cause trouble. We’re just hungry.”
Not looking to start a fight either, so I dust off my shoulder, and say, “It’s just crumbs from cleaning up after our guests.”
He chuckles. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll have the burger, no pickles or mayo. Hold the cheese and a salad with whatever your house vinaigrette is.”
I pull the pad from my apron, not realizing prior to him ordering how complicated it was going to be. I jot it down and then take the other orders. There’s no point in hanging around longer than needed, so I grab some silverware and set it down.
Fortunately, they don’t stay long after finishing, and Trina’s already back. On their way out, the guy who ordered the side salad stops. “Money’s on the table.”
“Cool. Thanks.”
Another guy calls after him, “Come on, Trevor.”
“Coming,” he says, pushing through the door.
I clear the table, dropping the tip off to Trina, and get to cleaning dishes. Just shy of eleven, my mom finds me in the back. “Why don’t you head out, and we’ll finish up?”
“You sure?”
“Positive.”
I’ve learned not to hang out and question too much, or I’ll end up being told to stay.
Pushing out the back door in a hurry to get to Chloe, I stop when I see two figures leaning against my Blazer in the shadows. Todd pushes off to toss me an unopened bottle of whiskey. “Gift for you.”
The adrenaline is still coursing through me when I reply, “I like gifts like these.”
Heading over to Todd’s old Chevy, Bryant says, “We’re going to Lucky’s. Time to play some pool and for you to lose some of that hard-earned cash.”
I’m not that kind of guy, usually, who brags about my girl, but I’m feeling the need to give them a heads-up. “It’ll have to be another time. I’ve already made plans.”
Todd asks, “What’s her name?”
It feels good to laugh with my friends. “Perceptive.” Neither of them feels the need to brush over it, so I say, “Chloe.”
Bryant, who’s perched on the door, looks over the top of the truck. “You only pushing her petals or getting serious?”
It feels like a betrayal to what Chloe and I are building to treat it less than what it really is in front of my friends. “It’s getting serious.”
He huffs, his hands dropping on the roof of the metal truck. I look around to make sure no one’s around or the cops might be called for being disorderly. He adds, “Well, what’d ya go and start doing that for?”
“I like her.” Popping my door, I set the bottle behind my seat in a bucket to secure it.
“Then bring her to Lucky’s,” he says, “so we can get to know her.”
“You want me to bring her to that shithole?”
Todd laughs, starting the engine. “Let me guess. Yaley? Too good to slum it with us townies?”
“She’s not like that. She likes me just as I am.”
He says, “Sounds like a fucking love song, but a word of warning, Evans. You can’t hide your roots. Bring her around anyway. We’ll play some pool and be on our best behavior.” He’s already backing out. Bryant’s arm goes out the window, his finger flipping me off.
I return the favor before tugging my phone from my back pocket
So much weighs on me suddenly—what will they think of her? Yaley? That’s a new one that makes me roll my eyes. I’m a fucking Yaley if attending’s their criteria. Despite a few misdemeanors, my friends are good guys, loyal to a fault despite being stuck in a town that never wanted them to succeed. The tracks that divide this town might as well have been fifty feet tall. I only got over because of my last name. I would have never stood a chance being Patty Russo’s kid. But David Evans held weight.
I’m a little anxious—two sides coming . . . maybe colliding is a better word—together. I’m pretty sure the guys will like her because I do, but what will she think of them? I have a feeling by how it never occurred to her to get a roommate, Chloe Fox isn’t used to hanging out with a bunch of bums.
Do I want to give up the time alone with her, though? Simple answer—No. Seeing the taillights before they take the corner, I’m loyal to them as well. If this is going to work with Chloe, tonight will be a good test for us. I text her: Just got off work. Want to go out?
When I don’t hear back right away, I start to wonder if she doesn’t like the change of plans. Too much too soon?
Chloe: Yes. I’ll get dressed.
The thought of her naked has me biting my fist. We’re so close to having sex that the thought of detouring tonight becomes painful in my pants. The opportunity to see her in a new place, to hang out with my friends tempers it a bit.
It only takes three minutes, so I wait a few extra to give her more time. While parked out front, I look up at the building. The location alone carries a hefty price tag.
So it’s easy to assume from her calling Newport home and that her parents pay for everything, she comes from money. Hell, if being an ER doc isn’t good enough for her father, I’m pretty sure they’re wealthy. With that knowledge kept in mind, she doesn’t have to enjoy pool halls, but I sure hope she likes my friends.
I go upstairs. When I knock, it takes her a moment to answer, but when she does, my heart stops.
10
Joshua
Holy fuck.
I’d come to expect a certain look from Chloe. Casual clothes or pajamas . . . Okay, so I don’t have a long history to pull from, but generally, it’s no makeup to light, more natural in appearance. She got my attention the night I showed up delivering food.
That night, or any other after, did not prepare me for her to make this kind of effort for me. But damn am I glad she did.
Dressed in black jeans that hug her hips, she sports black Converse, which seem foreign for her from what I’ve witnessed. With her lithe frame those shoes put those gorgeous greens chin height. I like the difference in size. I always have. She fits in my arms, leaving room to protect her.
What. The. Fuck?
Am I already this far gone? No one I’ve ever dated before her has ever stirred these unchartered seas within me. First the lack of curtains, which are still not purchased, and now me protecting her?
Yep, I’m a goner.
“Are you all right?” she asks, worry wriggling into her expression.
“Fine.” I run my hand through my hair. “Why?”
“You’re staring at me like you’re mad.”
Shit. “Sorry, I’m not mad at you.” Fixing my face, I grin. “Far from it. I just have a lot on my mind. That’s all. You look in
credible.”
“Thank you.” Grabbing a leather jacket from the hook next to the door, she slips her arms in and lets it settle over a loose-fitted tank top with thin straps. I’m tempted to tug on the hem of the crisp material, kind of wishing we were staying in and making out again.
Chloe Fox is stunning in any light and time of day, but damn if she doesn’t look sexy dressed in leather. I kiss her because as her boyfriend—official title that shall be boldly stated on résumé—I take my job very seriously. “I think I prefer us kissing when we see each other.”
She laughs. “Well, I’m ready for you.”
Leaving her breathless, or egging her on for a comeback, seems to be my main goals since we met. She doesn’t do anything halfway and manages to leave me breathless as well. Overachiever. I say, “I’m starting to regret that we decided to go out.”
“It will be fun.” She locks the door and then tucks her key and credit card in an inside pocket of the jacket. I almost stop her at the stairs and tell her I want to stay, but she looks so damn happy to be leaving.
Watching that sexy ass, I reply, “You haven’t met my friends. You might regret saying yes to me.” An eyebrow pushes high, but she can’t hide her sly smile before she turns back around.
“Is that a warning?”
I want to touch her all over, that familiar itch I have for her needing scratching, but I show some damn restraint. Grabbing hold of a belt loop as she rounds the stairs, I pull her to a halt instead. “There’s still time to save you.”
Angling back, she runs her hands along my middle and under the T-shirt, then yanks me close. “What if I don’t want to be saved? What if I choose you despite the warning?” Leather makes her feisty. And I really like feisty Chloe.
I run my hand up the side of the softness of her neck. Exposing it to me, she closes her eyes. Her willing vulnerability is served to me without conditions. So damn tempting to take her back upstairs and fuck the night away. But that’s not what I want with her. I want more than tonight.
So I press my lips to her skin, inhaling the floral scent, and then exhale slowly. A shiver runs through her, causing her hold to tighten. I whisper, “I won’t disappoint you.”
Lifting up, she kisses my cheek. “I know.” Our eyes lock, keeping us still for seconds that tick by before she starts walking again. “You’re nocturnal, so I’m trying to adjust to this new schedule of staying up all hours of the night, so let’s get going, party animal.” And yet she’s coming out because I asked her. I smile.
Outside, she looks around, making me realize she’s never been in my Blazer. “I’m parked down here.” I watch as her chin lifts, and she stares at the stars.
“It’s a nice night.”
“If it weren’t for the streetlights, we’d be able to see more stars.”
“At home, sometimes I’d set the alarm for one a.m. just so I could go outside to see the moon and stars at their brightest.”
We reach my SUV. “Sounds like an escape.”
“Probably, but I want to have fun tonight. Is this your truck?” I love hearing excitement tinging her tone.
“It is.” I proudly show her off. “She’s an ’85 Chevy Blazer.” I move around to open the door. “Looks like a piece of shit with the paint missing in some places, but she’s going to be a beauty when she’s restored one day.”
Dragging the tips of her fingers along the front quarter, her eyes take in the vehicle. “I like it.” She hoists herself up, and then I climb in behind the wheel. “You never told me where we’re going.”
“Have you ever been to Lucky’s?”
Catching her smiling, I watch as she seems to be right at home next to me. “I haven’t. What’s Lucky’s?”
“I probably shouldn’t take a good girl to Lucky’s.”
“I’m not a good girl.” She sounds offended, like a good girl would.
The rumble of the engine makes me wish I could afford to buy the rest of the parts. I don’t want to miss a word of hers. I glance over to see her watching me. “You carry innocence around like a fancy jacket.”
“What if I’m not that innocent?”
If I could, I’d be staring at her instead of the road. “Is this where you tell me you’re a bad girl who loves to break the rules to get back at her parents?”
Out of the corners of my eyes, I notice her fidgeting with the edges of her jacket. “I don’t break the rules. Nothing good would come of it if I did.”
“Rules are put in place so people can control a situation.”
“Fuck ’em.” I shift gears. “As long as we’re not hurting anyone, who cares?”
“I do,” she replies, angling away from me.
“Why?”
She seems to shake off a thought, smoothing her forehead. “I’m starting to wonder that myself.”
She turns up the music and rolls down her window. With mine down, the wind whips through, keeping us company. Near the edge of town, the crunch of the gravel parking lot competes with the engine.
I park at an angle on the side of the old converted warehouse and cut the engine. “There’s nothing wrong with breaking the rules sometimes, Chloe, but if it makes you feel better, we can start by bending them first.”
I get out and walk around the back of the truck, wiping my sweaty palms on my jeans before I help her, hoping she doesn’t notice my nerves kicking in. Being nervous is something I’m not used to, but this meeting matters and the weight of it is felt.
Glancing up at the building, she asks, “Is this a bar?”
“Yeah.” I take her hand, but her feet stay planted.
“But I didn’t bring an ID.”
She doesn’t seem to mind when I tug her a little closer to me, though. “Don’t worry about it. They don’t card here anyway. It’s a locals’ place. Most of the kids at Yale never venture this far from campus.”
The hesitancy disappears, and she says, “Might as well start bending the rules tonight . . .”
“Damn right.”
The music, the billiard balls clanking together, laughter, and conversation fill the air when we step inside the musty building. Smoke permeates the walls from when it was still legal to smoke in here, and the floors are a bit sticky from spilled alcohol.
Keeping an eye on Chloe, I’m interested to see her reaction to the paneled walls and the neon beer signs, the jukebox that plays everything from Patsy Cline to the latest by The Crow Brothers. I say, “This is the kind of place where people know your name.”
“Hey, Josh!” Seth, the bartender, calls while filling a pitcher of draft beer.
She laughs, and then asks, “Did you pay him to do that?”
“I’ll tip him extra.” I spot my friends at the far side of the bar. “Come on. I want to introduce you to my friends.”
For me, it’s weird to have her in my space. I don’t bring girls around to my regular haunts. But Chloe has me wanting to take her everywhere, show her off, and have her meeting the people who shape my life. She’s met my mom, even Barb, so this meeting tonight is long overdue.
Leading her through the bar with familiar eyes on us, I ignore the regulars, not caring what they think. I just hope Todd and Bryant like her. If they don’t, they’ve been good friends because after kissing Chloe, I’m too far gone.
I chuckle, bringing her closer. “Chloe, this is Bryant and the other asshole is Todd.”
“Hi.” She smiles politely. “It’s nice to meet you.” I’d already gathered a dive bar isn’t her regular scene, but I bet she makes great small talk with those manners, impressing parents and the country club crowd.
I bump fists with Todd and move around to shake Bryant’s hand with a flip-off flair ending we’ve been doing for years. He sits on a barstool, leaning his back against the wall. “No wonder Josh has been MIA. It’s good to meet you.”
She sets her purse on the table and shrugs. “You, too.”
Holding a glass with a solid gulp left up, he says, “You’re buying the next round, right
, Josh?”
Todd’s never been as boisterous as Bryant, but he values a good game of pool. “Hey,” he greets Chloe, handing her a stick. “Want to play?”
“Absolutely.” She takes the stick and works her way around to the table to chalk the tip. “I’ll break.”
Turning slowly toward me, he struts to get another pool cue. “Well, damn. Evans doesn’t mess around when it comes to bringing the big guns.”
“If you’d like,” Chloe says, laughing, “I’ll let you rack.”
He replies, “Ladies first.”
“Next round on me.” I back toward the bar and point at her. “What are we drinking?”
Under long lashes, she eyes me while bent over. Her laughter reaches me like music in the busy bar just before she breaks, a loud crack following. “Whatever you’re having.”
“Gotcha covered.” I watch her from across the room, how she hangs with the guys like she’s known them a while. I’m thinking she just took the lead because Bryant high-fives her. She’s made herself at home at that table, and seeing them get along wipes away any worries I had.
I turn to order, not having to keep my eyes on the guys. They’ve been known to get crude. I’m usually just as guilty, but they appear to be on their best behavior.
When I return, I set everything on the table. “A round of whiskey.”
“I’ve never done a shot of whiskey before.”
I’d like to say I’m surprised, but I think I’m getting used to these little bombs she drops. Handing her one, I say, “Tell me more about that not being a good girl again?”
To be honest, I deserved the punch to the arm. Flexing my bicep, though, I’m more concerned about her hand. I kiss it to make it all better and then hold up the glass. “What should we toast to?”
It doesn’t take long for a wry grin to make an appearance. “Breaking the rules. Again,” she replies so innocently that I’m drawn in to kiss that grin right off her face.
I don’t. Not yet. But I get close, almost touching mine to hers, and whisper, “And here I thought we were just bending them?”
“What’s the fun in that?” She taps her glass against mine and tilts it back, closing her eyes and emptying it. A harsh breath is fired off as she grabs her throat. “That burns.”
