Page 35 of The Boy I Hate

Samantha raised her eyes, hoping he hadn’t caught her staring. “Yeah, I was thinking the same thing.” She grabbed hold of her bag from the front seat, then proceeded to limp-walk on pins and needles across thestreet.

They’d been on the road for over six hours. Six hours of talking about nothing—and about all the things that had been going on in their lives over the past few years. She never thought she’d have five words to say to Tristan after their night together, yet talking to him now came remarkably easy. He listened, which surprised her. Really listened, in a way that reminded her of Renee. She liked that. Liked how he made what she was saying important enough to payattentionto.

She pushed open the door to the cafe, where a large chalkboard told her to seat herself. A glance around the restaurant revealed a bar with classic red and chrome bar stools, and booths that had mini jukeboxes in the middle ofeachone.

Opting for a booth, she settled herself into the closest one that had a nice view of the street. A server pushed through the double doors a moment later and came over to say hello. Her hair was red, done up in a style that reminded Samantha ofI Love Lucy, and her pink pinafore only added to the ensemble. She was young and pretty though, and had a sweetness about her that made Samanthasmile.

“Howdy,” the girl said, as she leaned against the booth. “Welcome to Peggy’s Cafe. Best split pea soup inChippewa.”

Samantha smiled, knowing this was the only restaurantinChippewa, but she kept that bit of info to herself. “Thank you. It’s nice to be off the road and stretching my legs forabit.”

The server grinned, set two menus on the table and tilted her head. “I’m guessing you folks aren’t from ’roundhere.”

Samantha opened her menu, perplexed by the fact the server knew she wasn’t alone and glanced over all the full color images of sandwiches, soups and salads. “California,” sheanswered.

“Ooooh… I’ve been there once. To Malibu. I’d give my right tit just to go back for a weekend and get out of this cold.” She sighed and took her tablet from the pocket. “Where y’all headed? You and that hot piece of somethin’ you have ’cross thestreet.”

Samantha glanced out the window, slightly shocked by the girl’s choice of words, and found Tristan in the parking lot. He was the only person she could have been talking about, and Samantha nearly choked at the realization. “Are you talking about Tristan?” she asked, turning quicklyaround.

“Well I ain’t talkin’ ’bout Jesus, sweetheart. ’Course I’m talking about him, though I have to admit, I am rightjealous.”

“Oh. Well, no need to be jealous. He’s not mine.” She adjusted in her seat then glanced back at the menu. “We’re only drivingtogether.”

“Bullshit.” The server coughed, then sat quickly sat in the seat across from her. “I mean, I don’t mean to pry—and my lady bits just tingled at the possibility of him being single, but no man looks at a woman likethat, without somethin’goin’on.”

Samantha followed the girl’s line of vision, and found Tristan standing at the gas pump, filling the Mustang with fuel—and looking directlyather.

Sheturnedaway.

“See.” The girl laughed. But her eyebrows rose as though she’d proven herpoint.

Samantha shook her head, resisting the urge to look again. “What kind of cheese do you use on your sandwiches?” she asked instead, hoping the change in subject wouldn’t gounnoticed.

“Wisconsin cheddar,” the server answered quickly, without skipping a beat. “So what’s your story? If he’s not yours, why are you driving alone together all the wayfromCali?”

Samantha cleared her throat, tempted to call the manager and complain about this nosey server, but for some reason she felt the need to set her straight. “My best friend is getting married,” she stated. “That hot piece of something is herbrother.”

The girl raised her brows in an all-knowing sort of way and laughed. “Well shoot! This trip gets juicier andjuicer.”

Samantha slapping the menu down to the table. “No. It’s not like that. I have aboyfriend.”

“Ho-le-shit!” the girl called. “And he let you drive cross countrywithhim?”

Samantha frowned. “Hetrustsme.”

The server scoffed. “Trust only takes yousofar—”

Samantha had enough. She looked the server dead in the eye, taking a deep breath before speaking. “Can we have two coffees please? Withcream?”

The girl must have taken the hint, because she cleared her throat, narrowing her eyes as she stood from the table. She straightened her pinafore, picked up her tablet from where she had laid it on the table, then scribbled down a few notes. “Anything else?” she askedbegrudgingly.

“No,” Samantha uttered. “That willbeall.”

But as soon as the server walked through the double doors to the back room, Samantha found herself looking for Tristan again through the window. He was still standing at the pump talking on the phone, his other hand in his pocket, and his eyes were locked right on her. He waved, sending goose bumps and tingles loose throughout her entire body. She glanced back at the menu again, realizing she hadn’t felt this way in six years. Not since she was sixteen years old, and she sat too close to her best friend’sbrother.

God savehersoul.

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