Page 40 of In His Veins

“I just want him to be my friend,” I whisper. “Why does he have to make it weird?” Cal’s hand wraps around my wrist and pulls my hand from my face. He doesn’t let go as he studies me.

“I can take care of it,” he says coldly. I shiver and pull my wrist free.

“Do not kill him,” I say sternly, getting up from the table. “Promise me.” He lets out a sigh as he stands in front of me.

“I promise,” he says, holding me by the arms. “Besides, I’m tired of doing cleanups by myself. I haven’t been able to get your brothers’ help for any of this and it’s exhausting.” For the second time this morning, my mouth flies open.

“My brothers have helped you dispose of bodies?” The idea of it rocks me to my core as he tucks a stray strand of hair behind my ear.

“I’ve helped them clean up their messes and they’ve helped me with mine,” he responds vaguely and I squint at him.

“But not Josh. He’s a good person even though he’s being obnoxious right now.”

“Not Josh,” he agrees. “I’ll be back to get you this afternoon.” He kisses me quickly and leaves me standing there as I watch him leave the restaurant.

Josh has his back to me when I return to the kitchen, and we spend the day in awkward silence. I wish I had listened to Paige and established boundaries with him early on. I really do care about him but I don’t know how or if I can even fix this.

I decide to leave him alone and let him cool off. The cafe is dead today, making my shift drag. A younger guy comes in shortly after Cal and sits at the table he occupied earlier. He lounges in the cafe for most of my shift, but otherwise very few people come in.

I’ve just sat a party down when he flags me to his table. He’s in his thirties with cropped dark blonde hair. He has a long scar from the edge of his eyebrow to the corner of his mouth, and I do my best not to stare. His pale eyes are wide and bright when he looks at me. It’s unsettling, but I do my best to smile as I approach his table.

“More tea?” I ask. Now that I’m so close, his eyes look glazed. He smells of harsh chemicals, like antiseptic.

“No, dear, I think I’m ready for the check.”

“Okay,” I say shortly, uncomfortable with the endearment. “Let me get some of these plates out of your way and then I’ll be back with that.” I reach across the table to stack his plates, but I halt when he grabs my wrist. I whip my head to him, heart pounding.

“You have the loveliest eyes. I can’t decide if they’re more like topaz or amber. Such an unusual color. Someone could get lost in them.” He smiles at me, the movement makes his scar pucker. I can’t look away as he continues. “You look like an artist. Tell me, are you a painter?”

I stammer something unintelligible as I scurry away, completely forgetting the plates. I feel his eyes on my back as I walk away, and my skin crawls.

“Josh?” I whisper when I’m in the back. Something in my tone makes him look up. “I know you’re mad at me, but when you get a second, take a look at that guy in the back. Has he been here before?” He frowns as he studies my face.

“I’m not mad at you, Ava,” he says and walks casually to the coffee bar as if he’s making a drink. The bar gives a broad view of the tables, allowing him to subtly survey the room. He walks back to where I’m waiting in the corner of the kitchen.

“The guy sitting alone in the gray shirt?” He asks, brows furrowed.

“Yeah, him. Have you seen him before?”

“No, but he was staring back here when I looked up. Gave me the creeps. Was he giving you a hard time?” I nod slowly.

“He grabbed my wrist when I went to take his plates and gave me some weird compliments. I need to bring him his check though.” Josh shakes his head and goes to the register. He types something in before the printer spits out a receipt.

“Stay here,” he commands, walking away with the paper. I want to peek out and watch what Josh does, but knowing my luck, the man would probably spot me. Josh comes back a minute later looking confused.

“What happened? What did he say?” I demand.

“He asked me to give his thanks to you and-” he cuts himself off and shakes his head again.

“What?” He lets out a sigh.

“He told me to ask you if you like citrine. Whatever the hell that means.”

“It means he’s a creep,” I respond. “Is he gone?” Josh pokes his head over the coffee bar.

“Yeah, you’re good.”

“Thank god, because I totally forgot about my other table.” After I take their orders, I stop to clean the strange man’s table. He left a one hundred dollar bill to cover the $22 bill. I pocket it, feeling inexplicably grimy.

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