Chapter 25
TWENTY-FIVE
When Zach freezes, mid-kiss, my heart sinks.
Especially as Dyers’s laughter is so inordinately loud that I know we have the whole diner’s eyes on us.
I can already feel mortification building up inside me, hovering at the back of my throat, making me choke in the desperate hope that Zach won’t aband—
Zach presses a final, gentle, loving kiss to my lips.
My relief is instantaneous, as is the guilt I feel for losing faith in him.
I sag into him with a silent apology, every muscle, sinew, and bone in my body reacting to that tender caress.
He can’t help that men like him… they’re not supposed to fall for girls like me.
He’s different though. I know he’ll keep on showing me that he wants me until my mind catches up with the program.
He slides his hand onto my shoulder, then his fingers tighten as he pins me in place.
His movements are slow and steady. Nothing rushed. Like I’m a kitten he doesn’t want to frighten off with abrupt gestures. Which would be a hilarious comparison normally, but this isn’t normal.
Our gazes lock as he turns the sweetest smile my way. It lights up his eyes. Making them gleam like sea glass—transparent pockets that enable me to see straight through to his soul.
I’m not alone.
He’s with me.
That’s what that smile says.
I’m not embarrassed to be seen with you.
I want you.
I read it all in that one brief but warm curve of his lips.
“Are you okay, gorgeous?” He whispers the words, low enough for me to hear them but for it to be private. Our secret snatched conversation amid this madness.
His nickname for me seals the cracks where Dyers’s shitty comments busted through my tough exterior.
To Zach, I’m gorgeous.
No matter what the Dereks and Addisons of this world have to say or whatever they think, to him, I’m not a joke.
“Been better,” I confide.
And as he breaks eye contact with me, the conversation we shared shattering, quick as lightning, he blows from hot to cold.
He brings in his own blizzard—that’s how cold we’re talking here.
When I look up, I see why—Addison’s there. Dyers’s arm is around her. He looks at ease, all quiet luxury with a few lingering bruises around the eyes, while she’s the opposite—oh, she is wearing eight-hundred-dollar jeans but she seems all kinds of uncomfortable.
“Even if you weren’t a junkie, Dyers, your opinion would mean shit to me.
Am I desperate?” Zach gently rubs his lips over my temple.
“Hell, nah, that’s why I’m with Denny. But ever heard of that saying ‘people in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones?
’ You’re the one parading my sloppy seconds around… ”
When Addison flinches at the admittedly dickish comment, Dyers skips a look between her and Zach while I study him.
Dyers’s one of those slick and slimy douche canoes who uses his family’s rep and bank accounts to get by.
Even before the shit Callan shared with me, Zach whined about the other guy’s asshole attitude.
“You want to watch your mouth, Bradley,” Dyers snipes.
“I think it’s you who’d better watch it. I already busted your nose once this semester. I’d hate to fuck up those pearly whites of yours too.”
I don’t know when Zach ‘busted’ Dyers’s nose. He never told me he was behind the dick’s black eyes, but the revelation has the other guy bursting with rage.
“If Addison is what you say, she’s prime meat—” I gape at the…
What the fuck even was that? A compliment?
“This… whatever this is. A social experiment? I mean, I’d heard you were cozying up with…
” Dyers’s top lip twitches as he purposely doesn’t use my name.
“I knew your standards were low, but I had to see it with my own eyes.”
“I’d say you’re the one holding the social experiment. Can two cousins effectively breed without their offspring having issues…? I think that’s called consanguinity,” Zach taunts, but he cracks the knuckles of the hand not holding onto me with his thumb.
Oh, boy.
“Fuck you. We’re not cousins.”
I quip, “Some comeback.”
Alec frowns. “I thought your mother was related to—”
“Shut your face, Alec,” Dyers hisses, bristling with all the presence of a tomcat.
But it’s too late—the rest of the table’s snickering.
And now is not the time for me to be a wallflower.
“Addison was so desperate to be back in Zach’s bed that she stole his house key.” I tap my chin. “If she rolled out of yours and wanted straight into his, doesn’t say much about your prowess.
“You know what that word means, don’t you, Dyers?
‘Prowess.’ Maybe not or you’d have some.
” And I don’t have to like the woman to hand out some free advice.
“Honey, we already talked about self-respect, but I think you need to get yourself some self-esteem too.” Because if she jumped out of this morning’s frying pan and into this disaster with Derek, she needs someone to help her smell the coffee.
“You’re way too good for this counterfeit version of Zach.
I can recommend a therapist. You need one.
Not just for stealing people’s shit and breaking into houses, but for even breathing the same air as this loser. I’ve heard of kissing cousins but…”
“A counterfeit version of this asshole?” Derek snaps, dragging up his shirt sleeves like he’s getting in line for a fight. “Loser?! Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?!”
“She’s talking to the dick who strolled up to our table to cause trouble. Who’s repeatedly insulted her. Who needs to back the fuck away before I make him.” Zach takes a sip of his coffee. It’s slow. Measured.
Dangerous.
Honestly, I didn’t know that a drink of coffee could be that, but oooh, boy, Dyers needs to back the fuck off.
With a sharp squeak of his fork across his dish, Mason yanks the attention onto him. “She’s not wrong, Dyers. On assists alone, he wipes you out. You are a counterfeit version of the main man and you need to let go of Addison right this second. You’re hurting her.”
My gaze glances off a strange mark on his forearm, one that’s almost like a brand, when I notice how the muscles are tensed as his grip tightens further.
To the point where she recoils in pain. Her shoulders hunch once she realizes how we’re all looking at her, but she can’t contain her wince as he uses his hold on her to haul her closer to him.
Pecan jerks to his feet. “He’s right. Look at her. She’s paler than an egg-white omelet!” He punches Dyers’s forearm. “Let her go.”
“This has nothing to do with you.”
“Then I’ll make it something to do with me. Addison, do you want to leave?”
Trembling, she nods.
“You got eyes, Dyers.” Zach warns, “Let her go.”
If anything, he does the opposite.
When she cries out in pain, I sneer. “Is it true what they say, Derek? That you’re counterfeit in all ways?”
As a distraction, it works.
Addison manages to free herself from his grasp. She scurries away, ignoring his, “Addison! Come—”
“What is she? A dog,” I bluster.
When Addison whips around, fear etched into her expression, she backs out of the diner in her haste to get out of there.
He turns to me with a snarl. “You think you can say shit like that without repercussions, you fat cunt?”
Zach jumps to his feet in my defense, but I smirk. “Better that than a—”
His fist flies loose and fast. But I grew up with boys. I’m used to ducking. And before he gets within an inch of my face, Zach’s hand is there, gripping his wrist tight enough for him to squeal.
It takes a second for shit to deteriorate. Another punch triggers a spray of blood and a tooth plops onto Pecan’s half-eaten stack of pancakes. Then, like he’s whipping a tablecloth over the surface, Zach wrestles Dyers onto the table.
I shriek as food flies everywhere, maple syrup colliding with eggs as it merges into tooth-speckled and blood-spattered pancakes while Derek flies over the dishes until Zach has him right where he wants him—close enough for his fist to collide with his face with no distance to impact the blow.
“Zach!” Alec bellows as Zach hits the other guy twice more.
“You got this, bro!”
Alec shoves Pecan in the side. “Don’t encourage him!”
“Let him go, man,” Mason inserts.
I can tell that he and the bulk of the team didn’t expect Zach to take this so far.
But there’s the catch—I did.
I knew it.
It’s why I started what I couldn’t finish.
More guilt hits me because I knew Zach would have my back. I guess I knew Pecan would too, but not like Zach.
Zach, seething, his hand tightening around Dyers’s collar, rumbles, “Give me one good reason not to bust your face wide open, Dyers. Especially as I have a crowd here who can confirm I got in between you hitting Denver, unprovoked, and that we repeatedly asked you to leave.”
Dyers, pale and sweating, bleats, “You moron. No one will side with you.”
Gregg chuckles. “What the fuck makes you think we’d ever have your back? You’re an asshole, Dyers.”
“Nah,” Joker mocks. “He gives anal sphincters a bad name.”
“Alec will take my side.”
I cut a look at the cap, noticing he seems distinctly displeased. But he confirms his stance with: “Denver did verbally—”
“No way,” Mason growls, not even letting Alec finish his statement.
“That’s bullshit.” Pecan jabs a finger at the air. “I can’t believe you’re taking this fuckface’s side when he came over to disturb us while we were minding our own business.
“I don’t care about the rest of you, but I know exactly what happened and I’ll speak up about it as well.”
“Me too,” Mason agrees.
“Definitely.” Gregg slams to his feet.
“And me. Hell, that’s a whole helluva lot more than you and Captain Underpants, Dyers.” Joker jabs his fork in the air. “And everyone knows you two always have each other’s backs. They won’t listen this time, Dyers.”
That they are all standing behind Zach after him being on the team for such a short time says a lot about the type of jackass Dyers is.
“Are you trying to get me fired for not refereeing you animals?!” Lex wades into the chaos with a dose of normalcy. “Look at this mess!”
“Who you calling an animal, Lex?” Gregg jibes.
“Yeah, you’re right. Animals are smarter than your puck-shot brains,” she counters with a sassy flick of her fingers. “Now, Zach was here first, Derek—” Is it my imagination, or does she douse his name with ten tons of venom? “—so you can scoot along before Dopie calls the cops.”
That’s when I notice the owner and cook is frowning at us from the kitchen. “Do I need to come out there?”
“No, Dopie.” Zach earns himself an eye-roll from the massive guy out back. “I won’t charge for being the security guard your place needs.”
Dyers roars. “I didn’t start shit! You can’t expect me to be the one who leaves!”
“I suppose I started this, Dopie.” I bat my lashes at the older man. “But it’s not my fault he can’t handle a simple question. All I did was ask him if it was true about him having a small wiener. And with all this small-dick energy he’s giving off, I think we have our answer.”
A roar of laughter runs around the team as well as Lex and Dopie. Zach, chuckling louder than the others, uses that moment to shove Dyers back the way he came.
As he tumbles to the floor with a splat, Lex derides, “I can confirm that rumor, considering I had the misfortune of seeing it freshman year.”
Though her tone’s jeering, the distaste on her face is clear—regret. Big time.
He rolls around and jumps to his feet. When his hand soars in an arc, it’s clear he’s about to hit her. “Bitch!”
Dopie storms out of the kitchen, but not fast enough to beat Pecan, who snags a hold of the douche’s wrist and yanks it down. “I don’t think so.”
“Here was me thinking you had better taste than this asshole, Lex,” Gregg retorts with a leer.
“He called me a ‘fat cunt,’ Dopie—” I tell the diner owner the truth. “—and he went to hit me so Zach had to defend me.”
Revulsion puckers the older man’s lips like he tasted something sour. “I hate men who hit women.”
“Same.” Zach’s shoulders bunch in agitation. Not even me pressing my hand to his back settles him any.
“Men are so unoriginal,” Lex jeers, staring at Dyers like he’s a dog turd someone walked into the diner. “Aren’t they, Denny?”
I study my nails. “Truer words.”
Dyers, kneeling now amid the remains of breakfast, skidding on spilled egg yolks and syrup, turns to Alec when Dopie clearly isn’t siding with him. “Are you letting this happen?”
Alec swipes at some food that landed on his face. “What do you want me to do, Derek? I told you to keep your nose clean, so you come and cause trouble?” He flicks a hand at him. “We’ll talk about this later.”
“I don’t believe this.” Dyers finally gets to his feet, only to teeter before crashing back down again.
The whole diner laughs this time. It’s like canned laughter from a show, only genuine as it races around the occupants like chlamydia in a frat house.
“Anything else like that happens again, Dyers. You so much as look at one of my servers in a way I don’t appreciate, you’re barred. Permanently.”
Flushed, outraged, and with zero defense from any quarter, Dyers gets to his feet. “Like this dump is the only place worth eating at on campus.”
“You’re the one in here every morning,” Dopie says calmly, which agitates the asshole even more.
Dyers storms off. But before he opens the door, he faces us.
Eyes locked on me, he pins me in place for a split second.
That look, seething with hatred, tells me that I’ve become the focus of all that anger.
The fat cunt who dared to speak up and to embarrass him…
Doesn’t take a genius to figure out I’m who he’ll want to suffer for not turning into a quivering wreck at his insults.
But I’m not afraid.
So, to a roar of cheers, I blow him a kiss farewell.