Page 17 of Life of the Party

The smile fell from his face when he saw me there.

“Riley?” I gulped, giving him the eyes.

He turned to grin at the girl again. “Thanks, Emily. I’ll see you later.”

“Sure, Riley.” Her voice was all sweetness and roses. She smiled big, with adorable dimples. “See you soon.”

Emily. I shared a few classes with her but hadn’t really noticed her until now. I hated her instantly. I watched her walk away and wished her bodily harm.

“Don’t start,” Riley warned, recognizing my instant, unreasonable jealousy.

I turned my eyes to meet his with a soft, hopeful smile. “Who, me?” I asked innocently. “I’m just here to say sorry, Riley…I know I’ve been terrible, okay? I just…” I shrugged. “I’m going to miss hanging out with you. That’s what I’m upset about. Not the partying. You, Ry. You’re my best friend.” My voice broke on the word. At least, he used to be. The tears, so near the surface, stung me again. “I do care for you, even if I don’t act like it, and I don’t—”

“Are you finished?” He interrupted me then, but there was a slight smile tugging hesitantly on his lips. I nodded dumbly, sniffling.

“So dramatic.” He sighed. Falling silent, deep in thought.

When he looked up at me again, his dark eyes were soft. Sad. “Zee, I meant what I said earlier. About changing. I…think it would be easier if we spent some time apart.”

My stomach did a little flip of panic, of heat, my eyes darting anxiously across his face. “No, no, look…whatever you need. I won’t interfere with your new life or your new plans, I promise. I’m happy you’re doing so well.” (That was a lie—but I was desperate.) “Just don’t say we need to be apart. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Riley rolled his eyes, scoffing at that. “Yeah, right.”

“I mean it. Come on…” I implored. “Riley and Mackenzie, just like always.”

“That’s what you’re not getting. It won’t be like always.” He insisted in frustration. “I’m giving it up, Mac. All of it. For good.”

“Okay, fine, give everything up.” I swallowed hard, grasping his hand. “Just not me.”

He sighed heavily, avoiding my gaze, my words hanging in the air.

“…Maybe we could do it together. We could quit…” He started—but never finished his sentence. His dark eyes met mine, and he trailed off, a wry smile on his lips. Shaking his head. Knowing me. My need for wild abandon, my careless lust for danger, excitement, thrill. Complete, reckless amusement. Fun, at any cost.

Knowing I couldn’t stop myself, even if I wanted to.

Knowing I was a lost cause. And delighted to be so.

CHAPTER 7

My heightened pulse had nothing to do with waiting on tables, alone, for the very first time. It had nothing to do with trying to remember menu choices and prices and customer needs. I wiped my sweaty palms on my sleek black skirt and tried to breathe normally. My anxiety had nothing to do with waitressing and everything to do with him.

He was there. After all my scheming and waiting and new-jobbery, he was finally there, behind the narrow slit of a window dividing the kitchen from the waitress area. I snuck another glance at him. All I could see was the blue fabric of his bandana as he bent down at the line. Then he lifted his head, and Grey’s heartbreakingly handsome face became visible, the deep tone of his skin darkened by a few day’s growth of stubble. His blue eyes were narrowed as he worked, his hair pulled back in a blue bandana tied around his forehead. Even in the black and white checked kitchen attire—messy with pizza sauce and who knows what else—he was gorgeous.

His sleeves were rolled up, showing dark, tan forearms firm with muscle. The apron he wore hinted at slender hips, outlined his hard torso, implied the defined muscle beneath. It was all I could do not to openly drool at him, to grovel at his feet and offer him a lifetime of servitude in exchange for a smile, a touch.

I patted my hair in place, took a deep breath, and approached the window. My table wanted extra garlic bread. It was the perfect excuse to talk to him.

“Excuse me.” I cleared my throat, watching him expectantly. His head barely lifted, barely acknowledged me, but just the feel of his blue eyes against my own was enough to make my heart race even faster.

“What.” He looked back down at his work.

“Um…can I get some more garlic toast, for table thirteen?” I asked nicely.

He looked up at me again, a slight smile bending his perfect lips. He raised his eyebrows and leaned in closer to me. I focused on breathing.

“See this?” Grey asked, his voice low, like velvet. He held up an order sheet.

“…Yes…” I smiled.

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