Chapter 11
Levi
Tate’s comment relentlessly swirls in the back of my mind.
I mean, where does she get off? “For someone who spends their time not caring, you sure care a lot.” What does that even mean?
If caring means stopping someone from flying through the front window and telling them to wear a seat belt, then I guess most people care a lot.
I press my palms into my eyes before letting them slide up over my forehead and back down the back of my hair as we all shuffle into a corner booth.
Our waitress brings over our waters. Her name is Tiffany, and since Clay is entirely too friendly, we also know that she’s an aspiring actress.
I pick up the plastic menu, scanning the options.
My favorite thing about diners is the lack of conformity to a single cuisine.
You could order a stack of pancakes while another person orders a steak.
“I know what I’m getting.” Clay slaps his menu against the table after only a two-second glance.
“Wait, are we actually eating? Gabriella says, sounding a little more than disgusted.
“I don’t know about you guys, but I didn’t eat dinner. We had to be at the studio at three thirty p.m. and that’s a little too early-bird for me.”
“Don’t remind me,” I grumble.
“I guess I’m going to get the cup of soup and a peppermint tea,” she relents with a sigh, placing her menu on top of Clay’s. “What about you, Tate?”
She’s been quiet since we sat down, preferring to play with her stack of bracelets than engage in the conversation.
Which...I don’t blame her. What are we even talking about?
But it’s unusual for her... When she doesn’t answer, I lower my menu.
The oversized ball of hair on her head sags forward as she stares at the phone in her lap.
Her energy is off. Something’s wrong. Maybe it was the near-death incident?
The others notice and stop what they’re doing to stare.
“Tate?” Clay repeats, placing a soft hand on her shoulder, which may as well have been an anvil because she airlifts out of the booth, smacking both knees under the table.
“Whoa, whoa, I didn’t mean to startle you.
Everything okay?” His hands are held up between them like he’s trying to tame a wild horse.
Tate holds her own hand flush against her heart, her breath coming out in rapid huffs.
“My fault.” She smiles at him. “I shouldn’t have been on my phone at the table.” It occurs to me then that Tate is the type of girl who probably did something wrong as a child and then told on herself.
“All good,” he coos in that warm, soothing voice of his.
Yesterday at practice was the first time I heard him sing.
His tone is a mixture of smooth and deep, like the perfect cup of coffee.
Everyone at this table can actually sing.
I’m not sure why I thought differently, but I’ll bet you money we all make it to the top five.
She smiles at him and looks down at her phone, face twisting before looking back up.
She’s conflicted about something. It’s been a week of living with Tate, and I can tell that face means there’s something she wants to tell us.
“Out with it,” I order, lowering my menu to the table and folding my hands in front of me. She looks at both Gabriella and Clay for backup, but they’re equally intrigued. Sorry, lady.
“Out with...” She drags the last word through the pout of her lips.
“What’s on the phone, Tate?” We stare at each other through narrowed eyes for a beat until her rough features collapse and she sighs, putting the phone onto the table.
“I was reading through the chat from the show. There isn’t anything too negative about us, but.
..well, you can read it.” She offers her phone to the table, and, to no one’s surprise, Gabriella is the first one reaching out for it.
In one swoop, I grab it off the table. Everyone’s mouth drops, and honestly, I am equally as surprised with myself too.
Why do I care? But here I am, holding her phone in my hand, so there is no going back.
I look down at the first couple of comments.
“What is Tate McGregor wearing? Doesn’t the show provide stylists? Hard to hear her voice over her loud clothing choices.”
“I prefer Gabriella Martinez with her mouth closed. Much more attractive?”
“Tate McGregor + Clay Williams = forever. Heart-eyes emoji, heart with arrow through it emoji.”
“Hey Levi Johnson, how about dem Cowboys?”
“I’m from Tennessee, moron!” The outburst slips from my lips before I can stop it.
Three pairs of eyes smile at me. I exit out of the comments before shutting down Tate’s phone completely.
“These people don’t know what they are talking about, and you shouldn’t read this,” I say, directing my stare at Tate, who all of a sudden looks so small, so innocent.
I hand her back her phone in a wordless exchange and watch as she tucks it away in her pocket.
I lean back in the booth, letting my weight be absorbed by the partially torn cushion.
The waitress comes with Gabriella’s tea and Clay’s Diet Coke. “Alright, kids,” she says, despite the fact that we’re probably all the same age. “What will it be?”
Gabriella orders her soup and then it’s Tate’s turn.
I watch as she spends the majority of Gabriella’s questioning (“Is this gluten-free, dairy-free, sodium-heavy?”) quickly scanning the menu.
When her turn comes, Tiffany waits, pen to pad, for her order.
“I’ll...have...” She flips the plastic page once more, her eyes dancing back and forth.
“I’ll get the cowboy burger please. Extra bacon.
” She smiles, handing her menu over. Clay starts rattling off his order, which is enough to feed a small state.
I rub at the bridge of my nose, preparing for the inevitable.
“And for you?” she says, stacking the long rectangle of menus together.
“I’ll get your cowboy burger with extra bacon.”
“So, exactly what she’s getting?” Tiffany asks, making sure she heard correctly. I dare a glance at Tate, a bemused smile playing on her face. Even if it’s at my expense, I definitely prefer it to the sulky look she had before. “I guess so.”
“Great. Oh, and how do you guys want your burgers? Medium?” Her eyes ping-pong between us.
“Medium-rare,” we say in almost perfect harmony, eliciting a laugh from everyone at the table, even Tiffany.
“Alright, I’ll be back.”
“You had to get that burger, didn’t you? For the sake of science, do you always order anything with the word ‘cowboy’ in front?” Clay laughs, nudging me by the shoulder.
“What? Don’t be ridiculous. I just wanted bacon on my burger. Tate ordered it too, and she’s probably never seen a cow in her life.”
“I’ve seen a cow, Levi. In fact, I’m looking at one right now.
” Her smile hitches up on one side into the saltiest little smirk.
Clay heaves over, laughing his butt off into his forearm, and Gabriella chokes on the sip she just took, lungs spasming in laughter.
I don’t even try to fight my smile, and it feels.
.. good. It feels like we’re the closest of friends, despite the fact that we have only known each other a week.
I rub my eyes, blurred from tears of laughter.
When it clears, Tate comes into view and all the happy I’ve just felt drops like a stone in my stomach.
I like her. I was attracted to her when I met her, and I’ve been denying that, but now I think I might actually like her.
Gabriella was right. My palms go slick as the booth starts to strangle me.
I feel trapped, caged, choked for breath.
“Levi...are you okay?” I hear Clay under the strong whoosh of my breath. I force myself to nod.
“I need to get some air. I’ll be back.” I pinch my eyes together once, like a reset, before trying and failing to stand.
The table. Right. I slide out and power walk through the diner, swinging open the door with a little more force than necessary.
The crash of the door against the exterior wall is followed by a gasp from the people closest. The cool air hits and it’s a welcome relief.
I take a seat on the curb, letting my head hang between my knees.
I started getting panic attacks in high school.
The therapist my mom made me go to suggested it had something to do with my dad and the pressure of him leaving, but I won’t give him that credit.
Some people have asthma; I have panic attacks.
It’s the card I was dealt. I just need a minute and I’ll be fine.