Page 88 of Coco and the Misfits

Zayne. Zach’s dad. The way Zach had limped out of my apartment that night last week returns to the fore of my mind. Could he be sick?

“Never mind,” James says. “He often asks after you, so I thought you might know what’s going on with him.”

“Who asks after me? Zayne?”

He gives me a funny look. “Zach. Why would Zayne be asking after you?”

“Why would Zach?”

“Because he’s been in love with you for fucking ages?” He shakes his head, laughs. “Sorry, what is between you two is none of my business. I’ll let you work. But if you hear from him, please let me know.”

“Sure,” I whisper.

Frowning, I return to my computer screen. I had told myself to call Zach, see if he’s okay, but after Atticus’ rejection, I’d felt so pitiful I didn’t want to face yet another.

Now I wonder if I should worry about him... but James can’t be right. Zach isn’t in love with me. If he were, he’d stick around. He’d return. He’d fight for me, wouldn’t he?

Something is wrong with this picture.

Grabbing my phone, I search for his number. Should I call him? No, not ready for that. But I can send a text. I find those where he asked me when he could come teach me self-defense and I hesitate.

Wouldn’t I appear desperate?

Do it and get back to work, I tell myself. Keep it simple, detached.

So I write the following: ‘Zach, hey. Just checking that you’re okay. Your dad is asking about you.’

Okay, that last bit? Kind of lame, but it makes it sound like it’s the only reason I’m writing, which suits me just fine.

My pride has received enough blows as it is, and my confidence… well, let’s not mince words, it’s in the toilet. So pardon me if I try to protect myself a little.

Whether he replies or not, I’ve covered my ass. And as to what he might say… I’m not worried about him, I repeat to myself. He’s a grown-ass man. He doesn’t need my concern.

In fact, he doesn’t seem to need me at all.

32

ZACH

“Zach. Here for another tattoo?”

I look up and wouldn’t you know. Ryder. Again. Talk about rotten luck.

“What’s the matter, man?” He sort of steps in my way. “Are you okay?”

“Like I told you last time, it’s none of your business. I’m just passing by. This is my neighborhood.”

“The way you walk tells me you’re hurt. I’ve been in a lot of scrapes in my life. Lots of fights. If you’re hurt, let me take a look, at least.”

“Fuck, man.” I stop and rub my face with both hands. “What’s it to you? What do you care?”

“Like I told you last time,” he smirks, “Coco likes you.”

“So what? Now you have decided you like her? After fucking her and pushing her away?”

“What are you going to do about it? Fight me?” A dark brow arches. “Over her?”

“What if I do? She has to mean a lot to you if you’re willing to come to blows over her.”

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