14. I Look So Good （Without You）
I LOOK SO GOOD (WITHOUT YOU)
PRESENT
“‘Annoying you now is just an added benefit.’” I sneer Jase’s words under my breath, jamming a wad of fresh napkins into the dispenser so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t crack. “Yeah, well, you can go fuck a cactus for all I care. Or better yet, get fucked by the cactus.”
Thankfully, the restaurant’s counter is currently unoccupied, sparing me from having patrons overhear my internal Jase-fueled rant…that apparently isn’t so internal.
But Maggie’s still in earshot, because she returns with an empty tray in hand, her smile and voice as playful as a puppy. “Awww, sounds like someone’s gotten under your skin.”
“Yeah, like a massive-ass tick.”
“Oh, come on. Just admit it; you’re totally hate-crushing on him,” she coos.
“I’m what? ”
Maggie rolls her eyes. “You know, when someone’s equally infuriating and hot that you can’t decide if you want to stab him in the eyes with a pencil or tear the clothes right off his body and fuck his brains out.”
I feign a gag.
“Oh please, if you aren’t fantasizing about riding him like he’s competing in the Kentucky Derby, why are you letting him get to you?
Your sister’s been a total B-I-T-C-H, yet he’s the one you’re fuming over.
” She lifts a perfectly groomed eyebrow at me.
“You wanna know why? Because there’s a reason apart from irritation as to why a certain someone’s got a hold on you. ”
I scoff. “The man’s a selfish, shallow, egotistical asshole. I’d rather swim through the sewers than be stuck in the same room as him.”
“Anybody I might know?”
Maggie freezes, her gaze focusing behind me at the unexpected commentator, and I don’t need to turn around to know who it is.
“It wouldn’t surprise me,” I say sweetly, grabbing some silverware. “That’s your kind of company, isn’t it?”
“Are you always this charming with your customers?”
The rest of the empty napkin dispensers are stationed by the register, so I’m forced to meet Jase who’s now sitting at the counter, that infuriating smirk plastered to his face.
“You’re not my customer,” I clarify, giving him a stiff smile. “This isn’t my section. Nico handles the orders here at the bar.”
“Well, where might your section be situated?” I kid you not, the man actually bats his eyelashes at me.
The absurdity of such an expression coming from him is enough to make me laugh, but I manage to smother the sound as I drop out of view to grab more supplies from under the counter.
Only once I’ve wiped any semblance of a smile away do I stand back up. “I really don’t have time for this.”
“For what ? Serving me?”
“For dealing with whatever game you’re playing here.”
“I wasn’t aware that eating lunch was a form of passive-aggressive hostility.”
“Apparently, for you, it is.”
He sighs. “Believe it or not, I didn’t come back to town to annoy you.”
“No, that’s just a lovely little perk, right?” I don’t wait for a response, shoving a napkin holder in front of him and moving down the counter to restock the next. “What’re you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at a dogfight or something?”
The jackass is evidently allergic to taking hints because he swivels off the barstool and follows after me. “I meant what I said last week, about making amends.”
When I just roll my eyes, this only seems to irritate him.
“We were kids , for fuck’s sake.” Any playfulness in his voice is gone, and the sound of it is enough to startle me. “Are you really going to hold a grudge about something that happened when we were fifteen? Neither of us handled it well; that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try to move past it.”
“ We?” A laugh bursts free from me, because…what the fuck? “ We didn’t handle things well?”
Jase looks genuinely taken aback.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I know my voice is too loud, given my surroundings, but I don’t care anymore.
“You’re seriously trying to pin the blame of this on me ?
I didn’t do anything to you. After the shit you pulled, I did as you clearly wanted.
I left you alone! And how did you repay me?
You threw me under the bus and just stood back to watch me get run over, repeatedly! ”
“Seriously?” You’d think I just hit Jase with my car, because he looks hurt and confused and somehow like I’m the villain in this. “I never wanted that. I tried talking to you how many times, and you ignored me.”
“You confronted me once in the middle of a crowded hall—”
“Hey.” Hands come around my waist from behind, and the gesture is a grounding one I desperately need. “Everything okay here?”
I look up and over my shoulder to see Reed…who is eyeing Jase with an expression that does everything but audibly growl. The guys here are protective, and I seriously couldn’t love them more for it.
Neither of my siblings was ever forced into getting a job since they had extracurriculars.
I had still been trying to find one that best suited me, but Blythe ensured I never would.
As soon as my Sophomore year started, she got me the job here at Castelli’s.
With my social ineptitudes and constant anxiety attacks, working at a restaurant that employed scary, “disreputable” South Enders looked to be a recipe for disaster.
Blythe had likely assumed I would come home crying at the end of my first shift, begging to never go back.
Well, the joke had been on her.
My stepmother may have set out to punish me, but unbeknownst to her at the time, she’d gifted me with a support system.
“I’m fine,” I whisper, patting Reed’s hand.
It looks like he wants to say something else, but Nico calls him back into the kitchen to deliver another order.
“Really, it’s okay,” I assure him. “Jase was just heading out.” I turn to the male in question at that last part, the coldness in my tone leaving nothing up for discussion.
Reed nods and heads to the kitchen, and whether Jase wants to continue this or not, he isn’t left with a choice. I’m at work. When a family of six enters, I grab a stack of menus and greet them once they’ve chosen a booth.
If I were a dog, my hackles would rise, because the voice that calls out from the entryway is the very one that haunts my worst nightmares.
They say time heals everything, but they’re wrong, because my scars are no longer scars.
They’re fresh wounds all over again, the stitches flimsy and haphazard.
“Rivers, my man!”
I swear, he’s even taller and more muscular than I remember.
I’ve been diligent in avoiding any news regarding the college football circuit, because the last thing I want is to see or hear about him .
Trent Easton.
He still has your standard Ivy League haircut, the blonde even lighter by days likely spent on the field or by the pool, and his fashion sense is the same degree of douchebag-ery I’ve come to expect. There’s nothing wrong with the fitted pastel dress shirt; the popped collar, on the other hand?
Gag.
And I’m sorry, but who wears matching deck shorts and shoes if you’re not on a boat or anywhere near the water?
“The prodigal knight returns.” Trent practically sing-songs it, loud enough that this entire section of the restaurant can’t resist noticing as he strolls over to Jase.
I’m honestly surprised Trent recognized him, and it appears I’m not the only one, because Jase remarks as much.
“Between the picture Hawthorne showed me and what she told me about the bike—” Trent nods to the Kawasaki parked right out front “—it didn’t exactly take detective work.”
It also seems Jase was unaware his photo had been taken, because the briefest flicker of anger passes over his face so quickly that I doubt Trent catches it.
The thought isn’t a reassuring one.
If Sienna had taken Jase’s picture, had she done the same to me? Surely if she wished to torment me further, she’d let the other Untouchables in on my new look.
I mean, your posse can’t hunt down someone if they don’t know what she looks like, can they?
Jase says something low enough I can’t hear and moves towards the door, but Trent drops an arm around his shoulder, barking out a laugh.
“Don’t be silly.” To my horror, he guides Jase back over to the tables.
The latter catches my eye, and to only drive the knife deeper, he motions to the counter, where they both take their seats.
There’s about a point-three-percent chance Trent won’t recognize me if Sienna already told him about my new look, but a girl’s gotta try, right?
Even in a ponytail, my hair is long enough to cover my name tag when I brush the ends over the front of my shoulder. It’s the worst attempt at a disguise, but it’s the best I can do at the moment.
Jase shoots me a confounded look as I make my way back around the counter to greet the dip-shit duo. He obviously insisted on these seats so I wouldn’t have to engage with either of them.
One glare from me is answer enough.
Yes, I am a liar.
Why? might you ask. Because the counter is, indeed, part of my section. I just wanted Jase to fuck off and leave me be.
And as Biblical retribution, that little lie has me elbow-deep in shit.
Maggie brings out a tray of food from the back and passes Trent and Jase on her way to her designated table. I want to claw Trent’s eyes out as they linger on her ass as she bends over to hand a dish to the person on the inside of the booth.
All I want—apart from maybe Trent choking to death on his own tongue—is for Maggie to disappear into the back.
So, of course, she makes her way behind the counter to refill some drinks.
I should be grateful when Trent’s gaze finally peels off her body, but to find him sliding that lecherous stare on me ?
It’s a taint I never thought capable of.
I want to bathe in bleach, peel off my skin, and gouge out his eyes.
“Well, well, well.” Trent Easton is the quintessential American jock, so if I didn’t know what horrible monster rested beneath the surface, I’d be inclined to find his smile warm and his voice rather pleasant.