Page 23 of On the Line

“Don’t be like that,” he mumbles almost incomprehensibly. “We’re family.”

Hearing him call us family makes me nauseous.

“That doesn’t mean fuck all coming from you,” I answer with disdain. Turning to leave, I grit out from over my shoulder, “Get your shit together, Richard. You’re an embarrassment.”

I storm out before I do something rash like spit in my own father’s face.

The soundof the printer behind me sends me into a sudden rage. It’s a quiet kind of rage, but inside I’m fuming. It’s 10:59 p.m. The kitchen closes at eleven. This has been the longest twenty-four hours of my fucking life.

“Piece of shit customers,” I mutter under my breath, clanging some tongs onto the cutting board. “Entitled fucking assholes.”

I’ve been ready to close for an hour. My run-in with my father has kept me in a tight coil all day. The last thing I wanted was for the final order to come inoneminutebefore close. I let out a long exhale. I can’t catch a break today.

From the corner of my eye, I see James run up to the pass. Her hair is done up into a high bun, leaving her neck exposed. I pretend not to notice her.

But she’s impossible to ignore.

Especially after she let me feed her an oyster the other day. I’ve already replayed that perfect moment in my head too many times to count.

“Oh my god I’m so sorry, Ozzy,” she says, a little out of breath. “I really tried to have them order from the bar menu, but they just weren’t having it. Said they came here specifically for the beef carpaccio.”

Great.

I keep my expression flat while I stare at her. She trails off, her throat bobbing when she swallows, her gaze fixed on mine.

An idea forms in my mind and I suddenly couldn't care less if these late-arriving customers have to wait for their precious carpaccio.

“Come over here,” I tell James with a quick jerk of the head.

“What, why?” she says, while already walking towards the swinging doors. She reappears a few seconds later, and I snatch her wrist.

“What are you doing?” she says in a small hushed shriek but she doesn’t struggle, doesn’t even make any attempt to pull her wrist out from my grasp. Instead, she follows me all the way into the dry storage.

Closing the door behind us, I turn back around to face her.

She has her arms crossed, staring at me with suspicion. “Why did you bring me in here?”

The rational voice inside my head tries to warn me to stay away. I shouldn’t play with fire when she so clearly has a boyfriend.

The disappointment I’d felt, deep in the pit of my stomach, when I saw her with him was startling, to say the least. I’m usually not the one to care, but it was jealousy that had me kissing that girl while James watched. And it was complete disinterest for anyone else but the pink-haired princess that drove me to walk away from the other girl seconds after James left the bar with her boyfriend.

I decide to disregard any rational thought for now. Especially today, when everything is pissing me the fuck off, and toying with James is the perfect way to assuage my shit mood.

“Time to pay up,” I say conspiratorially with a small curl of my lips.

Her eyebrows rise and then narrow, arms tightening over her chest. “What are you even on about?” she answers suspiciously.

“You lost, sweetheart. You owe me,” I chide while closing in on her. She takes a few steps back to keep the distance between us. I can tell she still isn’t catching on so I spell it out for her. “Our game of pool? A bet is a bet.”

Her mouth falls open, andfuck, all I want to do is catch her plump lip between my teeth. “We never finished the game,” she utters slowly as if suddenly weary of how to navigate the situation I’ve put her in.

“You forfeited the second you disappeared.” I take a step towards her, staring her down. A dark grin pulling up my lip. “I win, princess.”

She looks like she wants to say multiple things at once but ends up closing her mouth, chewing on her bottom lipbefore finally saying, “You never told me what I’d have to do if I lost.”

A small chuckle rolls out of my mouth, positively fuckingbemusedby the turn of events. Quickly, I try to scrounge up the most outlandish idea I can come up with. Having her execute the bet isn’t exactly what’s giving me such a thrill, it’s seeing her squirm that entices me the most. The soft shade of pink her cheeks turn when I’ve pushed her just a little too far. It’s the first fun thing that’s happened to me in the last twenty-four hours.

I take out the Snickers bar from my pocket, still cold from the freezer, and push it into her palm.

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