Chapter 3 #2
I am so damn angry. I can feel it travel all the way to my cheeks, which are, without a doubt, bright red. I look down at the sundaes I just made, and although I’ll probably get fired, I decide to deal with the consequences later.
With tray in hand, I walk over to the booth, meeting Dandy’s eyes.
He reads the look in mine and shakes his head.
But unlike Dandy, I am confrontational.
This is why we complement one another so well.
“Coco Loco,” I say, placing the large sundae on the table. “And Bananarama.”
If they think they can treat my best friend badly and face no consequences, they’re mistaken because for someone who has nothing to lose, this is just another Tuesday night for me.
Before anyone can move, I slide the sundae along the table where it lands in Robin’s lap.
She’s sitting near Rebecca, so some of it splatters all over her pristine cheerleading uniform.
I made sure Robin got her extra fudge and whipped cream, and as the cherry plops into her lap atop the mess, I smile.
“Oops,” I quip, faking innocence and mirroring Robin’s earlier comment.
“You bitch! You did that on purpose!” Robin screams, standing up, and the sight of her covered in ice cream is worth any punishment I receive.
Dandy tosses a few napkins at her, which won’t do a thing.
I can’t hide my smile.
Robin rushes out of the booth, with tears in her eyes. The boys follow, and Rebecca is the last to leave.
She stands silent, watching me closely.
I do the same.
She doesn’t scare me.
And I think that’s why she hates me. She can’t control me like she can with every other person in this town.
I know that I’ve just started a war.
Rebecca finally leaves.
I stand my ground, watching them take off in their fancy cars.
“You’re crazy!” Dandy shrieks, hugging me tightly. “And I love you for it.”
“I love you too,” I reply, hugging him back.
As I peer over his shoulder, I see that we have a customer.
Instantly, the heat in my cheeks travels all the way through my body because that customer is Kit Rivers.
Kit is Dandy’s older brother, and from the moment I met him, he forever remained someone who was there, but not really there. But I know if I needed him, he would be there without question.
The conversation we had in his kitchen all those years ago often plays in my mind. “If you ever need help or want something, just ask. You’re good for Dandy, and I’ll do whatever it takes to keep him happy.”
He loves his brother, but he seems…broken or scarred.
But aren’t we all?
Kit is six years older than me and has always treated me as his younger brother’s annoying best friend. Whenever I was over at their house, he was always scarce.
He never checked on us.
He never asked how things were going at school.
He kept to himself and his cars.
Kit works at Carl’s Mechanics.
He’s kept Carl in business because the girls in town take their cars to get serviced even when they’re not needed. Any excuse, really, to see the elusive Kit Rivers, who gives no one the time of day.
Kit doesn’t make small talk, and honestly, he’s nothing but standoffish to everyone. An air of arrogance follows him wherever he goes.
But that seems to have the girls wanting him more. He’s never shy of female attention, as I’ve seen girls sneak out of the garage, which is also his bedroom. The women of this town say he has the face of an angel but carries the soul of the devil. Whatever that means.
He’s a dark horse, according to Dandy, which is why women admire his “charm.” I use the term lightly because I don’t see any charm. But I’ll never forget what he did for me the night he took me home and took the blame for me.
I don’t know why he did that, and we’ve never really spoken more than ten words since. Regardless, it’s something that has me believing there is a lot more to Kit than meets the eye.
What that is, I don’t know because I have zero experience when it comes to guys.
And that’s by choice.
The only man I need in my life is Dandy.
So why am I suddenly on fire?
Kit smirks, as if privy to a secret I am in the dark about.
It pisses me off.
I break the hug, like always, and gesture with my chin to where Kit sits. Dandy turns over his shoulder and rolls his eyes.
“Great. What does he want?”
It’s a fair question because I can’t remember the last time I saw Kit in here.
“Ice cream?” I offer with a smile.
Suddenly, our song comes on, and nothing else matters.
The song in question is “(I’ve Had) The Time of My Life.”
I remember the first time Dandy and I had our Dirty Dancing marathon. It was one of the best nights of my life. And since then, we’ve watched it endless times.
It’s something that is ours. No matter how ridiculous we look, this is our thing, and when either of us has had a bad day or we’re feeling low, this is our go-to to make everything better.
Dandy looks at me as my mouth drops open playfully.
I point at him to lead us into the melody, just as he’s done a thousand times before.
But he doesn’t need any encouragement. He dramatically uses the mop as a microphone.
We commence singing, the mop our makeshift prop as we take turns singing the male and female leads.
But when it’s a duet, things get wild.
The chorus hits, and we both sing out of tune at the top of our lungs into the mop, living out our ’80s dreams. We look like complete idiots, and we don’t care.
We butcher the song, having the time of our lives, laughing hysterically. I forget all about Kit until Dandy takes my hand and twirls me. I spin and see him leaning forward, arms crossed, unsure whether he is about to laugh or suggest we get help.
I like that he’s watching me, though. He has a look in his eye I can’t quite place.
It makes my heart race for another reason.
Dandy kisses my cheek when the song ends. “Bestest friend ever.”
I know he means that I always have his back and can distract him with our makeshift karaoke.
I take the mop from Dandy and commence cleaning where he left off. He walks over to Kit, and I watch as they start talking.
Dandy rarely mentions his father. That topic is off-limits.
And I respect that. However, one night, Dandy shared that he and Kit were close.
But when his father died, Kit pushed everyone away.
Dandy thinks Kit blames himself for his father’s death.
As the eldest son, he believes he failed his father in some way.
And now he carries the responsibility for his family, taking over where his dad left off.
It’s a sad thought, because I understand it too well. Kit and I are alike in some ways in that sense, both blaming ourselves for the death of our parents.
I continue cleaning, looking at the clock on the wall.
Ten minutes till closing.
Most would be happy, but the familiar sinking in the pit of my belly weighs me down. I don’t know what mood my uncle will be in. Sometimes he leaves me alone. Other times, however, he doesn’t.
I gulp past the lump in my throat.
I may be able to stand up to high school bullies, but I’m still that scared little girl when it comes to my uncle.
I don’t understand the power he holds over me, but I guess he is the link to the past, reminding me that if I hadn’t asked my parents to go to Bethany’s birthday party, they would still be alive.
It’s my fault they’re dead.
And no soul-searching or therapy will tell me otherwise.
“Don’t be mad—”
“Never a great way to start a conversation,” I say with a smile to Dandy, wringing the mop.
“Would you mind if Kit drove you home?”
“Why?” I ask, not wanting to sound ungrateful, but well, why?
“Mom has a bookshelf she promised to pick up for a friend, and it won’t fit in Kit’s car. It will fit in my station wagon, though.”
“It’s okay. I can ride my bike.”
“Don’t be silly.” Dandy shakes his head. “You’re not riding in the dark.”
I rode to work today and was planning on leaving my bike chained out back, but I can ride home. It’s not an issue.
“Dandy,” I deadpan. “I’m not afraid of the weirdos…”
“’Cause we are the weirdos!” Dandy finishes off for me while we burst out laughing. “But seriously, I would feel better if Kit drove you home, and that’s saying something.”
With a sigh, I agree. “Fine.”
We finish cleaning up and getting the shop ready for tomorrow. Dandy is balancing the register while I refill the napkin holders. I’m doing this to keep busy and avoid making small talk with Kit.
Kit sits at the counter, scrolling through his phone. As he is preoccupied, I take a moment to look at him, something I don’t usually do because it feels weird. It’s been an unspoken rule between Dandy and me that his brother is off-limits—not that I would ever go there.
But looking at Kit unguarded, I can see what the hype is about.
The boy who gave me a ride home when we first met is now a grown man. He’s tall, his shoulders remain broad, and he clearly has well-defined muscles. He’s also gotten more tattoos, including some on his fingers.
He keeps his hair longer on the top, while the sides are cut shorter. The top curls gently, falling over his brow.
His attire just adds to his bad-boy reputation, one that I doubt he even knows about.
That’s what happens when the girls around town start talking.
Whether what I’ve heard is true or mere speculation, I don’t know.
What I do know is that Kit Rivers doesn’t give a fuck about what others think, and I am kind of envious of that.
Kit Rivers is the definition of the bad-boy stereotype.
I’m not sure how long I’ve been staring for, but it’s long enough for Kit to notice because when I stop studying him, I realize he’s looking at me with a lopsided smirk on his stupid face.
Has that dimple always been there? And why do the fluorescents have to bring out the incredible amber in his eyes?
I can’t pretend I wasn’t just caught staring, so I meet his eyes, arching a brow in a silent what are you gonna do about it?
This is the ultimate stare-off because neither of us will budge. If he thinks I scare easily, then he has another think coming.