Page 37 of King

“Are you surprised?”

“Fuck, are you kidding me?” He bangs his fist against the wheel before muttering something in Spanish. “You need to stay away from him, Jo.” I hate the way he’s looking at me like I’m some poor lost puppy.

“You don’t think I know that?” I narrow my eyes at him.

“Sorry.” He looks over at me, and I catch his eyes drop to my chest before he glances away. “I mean, I know you know that.”

I shift in my seat. “Just take me to MOCHA.”

That makes his face twist even more. “You don’t want to go home? To the Archibalds’ I mean?”

I shake my head. “No, it’s fine.”

He glances at me again. “I mean, you look like a stray cat. An attractive stray cat, but at least let me drop you off for a warm shower. You must be cold.”

A warm hand lands on my thigh. There's a tingle where he rests it and it helps me relax. His hold seems comforting but that's probably normal after being alone in the rain.

My head falls against the headrest. “I’m already late and this job...it’s important.” It’s a part of my ticket out of this place. My sister’s ticket out of foster care. “But thank you.”

He sighs, patting my thigh before he puts the car into drive.

My head stays towards the window as we drive down the road. The only thing breaking our silence is the sound of the radio. He’s playing Drake, whiny and slow. It’s not my thing, but it’s nice to have a distraction. He sings along, his voice blending with the melody. Christian can carry a tune like an American Idol finalist. His singing is soothing and it adds a bit more comfort to the drive.

We get to MOCHA and it’s still pouring but I thank him again.

“Wait.” He stops me from closing the door. He reaches in the back and throws me a pair of green joggers. “Might be comfier in that.”

“Thanks, Christian.” I take the joggers, tucking it under my arm. “I mean it.”

“Anytime.” His smile is big and full, borderline contagious.

I’m about to close the door but I can’t help myself, thunder crackling louder now. “Why are you friends with him?”

He shakes his head as if he doesn’t know, letting out a chuckle, “Too much fucking history.”

I’m not sure what that means but I thank him again before closing the door.

It’s quiet inside the cafe. It might be the rain keeping most people away but I'm relieved only one young couple saw me enter the shop like a wet cat.

My shirt is already in my backpack and I head for the bathroom to get changed for my shift.

On the way, I hear Cindy’s voice but it’s hushed. Every time I overhear someone in this town it seems to be about me. So listening to Cindy is a chance I take. Moving closer, my boots make a squeak. Wincing, my breath stops as I wait to see if she's noticed.

“Jo? Is that you?” Cindy calls.

Letting out a breath I clear my throat, leaning into it. “Yep! I'm about to get changed for my shift."

“Come in.”

My shoulders drop and I roll my eyes, pushing the door open. I can already hear the disappointment in her voice before I’m standing in the doorway.

Cindy looks me up and down over her pink and gold frames. “Darling, you look like a used mop.”

“Something like that,” I mutter.

“And what did you do with your hair?”

Holding up Christian’s joggers, I’m hoping it quells at least one of her fears. “Don’t worry I’m going to change.”

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