Page 14 of Truck Off

He’s not a knight in shining armor, but rather a warrior who’d stand beside me. We’d fight our battles together.

That’s the kind of man I need and want.

I twirl the Snickers in my hand and remember what Christian said about a late-night snack. He’d be eating his stolen candy bar around nine.

Digging my phone out of my pocket, I check the time. It’s a quarter after. I wonder if he’s eaten his yet. Does he even remember telling me that?

Deciding to play into the fantasy, I tear open the end and take a bite. I let myself imagine Christian doing the same thing in that exact moment. Both our lips wrapping around our candy bars and taking a bite together.

My eyes slide closed, and a soft moan escapes as my mind wanders to other things I’d like to feel Christian’s lips doing. Kissing my lips, then peppering a trail of kisses down my neck and along the collar of my T-shirt.

My skin instantly pebbles with goosebumps, and I shiver.

“Are you cold, or are you having naughty thoughts over there?” Jayla’s voice teases from the doorway of my bedroom. “I can leave if it’s the latter.”

I frown and toss a pillow at her, hitting her in the chest. She laughs and tosses it back.

“Just get in here and shut the door,” I say. “I need to talk.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she waves me off. “Would it hurt you to smile every once in a while? Especially when someone’s joking around with you?”

“Sorry.” I sigh and fall back onto the pillows resting against my headboard. “I’m not in the best of moods.”

Jayla chuckles. “Are you ever?”

Jayla and I have been best friends since we were eleven. Her family moved into the house a quarter mile down the road, and we’ve been inseparable ever since.

We latched together, and nothing has ever gotten between us. She was new in town, and I was ridiculed or ignored because of the drama surrounding my parents. Small towns suck if you have secrets you’d rather no one else knows about. Secrets spread like wildfire in a town like Beaver.

She hands me a bag before she adjusts the pillow I threw at her against the wall my bed butts up against and gets comfortable.

I open the bag and the smell immediately overwhelms my senses with the savory scent of beef. My stomach growls—loudly—in response. “Oh my gawd, what is this?”

“Mom made beef tips and gravy over noodles.” Jayla’s tone is reprimanding, like she’s talking to her eight-year-old daughter, Lucy. I look up to see her eyes narrowed on me.

“What?”

“When’s the last time you ate?”

I roll my eyes. Yep, it’s lecture time.

I pick up the candy bar I had just taken a bite off of before she walked in. I wave it around like that will satisfy her question.

She snatches it from me and huffs. “This doesn’t count. When is the time you ate a meal? Something semi-healthy.”

I shrug. “You know I take care of Dad first. I eat whatever’s left over.”

“Well, that is all yours. I left two more containers in the fridge for your dad. Now eat.”

She crosses her arms over her chest and watches me as I take the still warm container out of the bag, along with the plastic fork she’d included. She doesn’t relax until I take a few bites.

“This is really good. Please tell your mom thanks.”

Jayla nods and leans back on the pillow. “She also made a tray of lasagna. I put that in the freezer. I expect you to eat some of it too. You can’t keep starving yourself, Lina.”

“I’m not starving myself. I just can’t afford to eat like this every day.”

She sighs and gives me a sad smile. “I know. But I worry about you. Your headaches have been getting worse.”

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