Page 6 of Claiming Becca

“How are you going to do that?” Becca asks.

I shake my head. “I don’t know yet,” I admit. She hums as we get in line to order our food. “You could have returned to the apartment, and I would have given you more snacks.” She gives me a small smile and pulls her feet up on the seat, leaning her chin on her knees.

Inhaling then exhaling slowly I try to let go of all of my pent-up frustration. I smirk at her. “I have a question for you.” She raises an eyebrow at me.

“Have you heard of Murphy’s law?” I ask her. Her eyebrows furrow.

“Yeah,” she says slowly.

“What is it?”

She gives a what the fuck look. “You’re the one who just graduated college, shouldn’t you know?” I only stare at her, and she rolls her eyes. “Fine. It’s if something can go wrong, it will go wrong.” She glares at me. “Story of my life,” she murmurs. I roll my lips between my teeth, trying to stop my smile.

“Have you heard of Cole’s law?” I ask.

She gives me another what the fuck look. I motion to her with my hand, waiting for her to answer.

She sighs. “No, what is it?” she asks, sounding completely put out.

“Thinly sliced cabbage and mayo,” I answer. She stares at me in confusion as I burst out laughing. She tilts her head in confusion, then cracks a smile before chuckling.

“You are so weird,” she says through her laughter.

I chuckle. “I hear that a lot,” I admit, and she grins at me as I pull up to the speaker to order our food.

CHAPTER THREE

BECCA

Five Years Ago

Grinning at my reflection, I run my fingers through my hair for the 100th time to make sure it’s real. Glancing at Laura, my hairdresser, in the mirror, we share a smile.

“It looks great on you.” For once, I believe someone’s compliment.

“I absolutely love it,” I repeat for the tenth, maybe eleventh time.

She shakes her head in amusement. “Pink is your color,” she states. “Obviously, your guy loves you if he brings you in here and plops you in the seat, telling you to take your time.” She grabs the broom and begins to sweep.

My eyes widen. “What? Oh, no! He’s not my guy. Neither one of them is.” My voice comes out high-pitched.

She arches an eyebrow. “The guy with the baseball cap isn’t your guy?” she asks, unconvinced. I stand from the chair quickly, shaking my head emphatically. Why would she think that?

“No. I mean, I’m eighteen, he’s twenty-four,” I explain as I run my fingers through my hair again. “Besides, Connor and Bass, they’re my friends. Technically, Bass is my boss now too, but he’s my friend first,” I ramble. Is it hot in here? I’m sweating. I wave my hand at my face.

Laura chuckles. “Sorry, honey. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. It doesn’t matter if he’s older than you. It matters how he treats you and looks at you. I can tell by how that man looks at you, he adores you,” she proclaims. I stare at her in shock. She has to be mistaken. There’s no way. Shaking off her comments, I step away from her and grab my bag to pay.

“What are you doing, Shortcake?” Connor asks as he and Bass walk in. My head snaps in his direction. Shortcake?

“I’m paying for my hair appointment. What did you call me?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “You are not. Bass and I talked you into doing this, and we are paying for it. It’s our treat.” Bass nods in agreement and grins at Angela. Angela doesn’t look up; she’s too busy texting. Rolling my eyes, I ignore her and look between Connor and Bass.

“When we talked about this, I didn’t mean you had to pay for it,” I tell them. Connor comes over and wraps his arm around my shoulders.

“Too bad, Shortcake. We’ve already taken care of it. Haven’t we, Laura?” I look at Laura, and she grins again with that look in her eyes and nods. I put my wallet in my bag and sigh.

“Well, thank you,” I finally say. I hate handouts, but I don’t say anything because Connor looks happy, and I don’t want to take that look off his face.

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