Page 35 of Her Wicked Knights
I hate myself the minute the words are off my tongue, and I hate the way they taste out loud. I'd rather spend five minutes with Tripp than twenty minutes with anyone, let alone Cortney/Cami. But I can tell it's too late when he manages a smile and nods. If I go back now, he'll assume it's a pity play, and I definitely don't want that.
"Of course." He nods, still, walking past me toward the door as he palms his keys. "Maybe another time."
My chest feels heavy as I watch him walk away, wishing that I could rewind to twenty seconds ago and give him the answer I wanted to. The truth is, I've been walking a tenuous line with him for the last couple of months as my attraction to him has only grown. It continues to grow every day, and I'm not sure how to balance what I feel for our friendship with what I feel for him sexually.
But I do know one thing.
I'm a fucking idiot for letting him go.
18
SUMMER
19
Marley
7:42.
I sigh, scrubbing my hands over my face to try and combat the exhaustion that seems to have invaded my bones at this point. I wish I drank coffee, because I could really use it to make it through the next three hours of my shift.
The Dive is slow tonight—slower than usual for summer. Everyone's partying at Audrey's aunt's this weekend, and normally I'd be with them. Except Hadley's coming home for the weekend tomorrow, and I'm dying to see her. We haven't really got to talk since she was home for Christmas, but even then, we'd been so busy running around doing holiday things that I feel like we didn't even get a chance to see one another for something more than a surface-level conversation. I'm craving a sister date, or even a girl's night with mom and popcorn and cheesy summer slashers. Audrey being gone is why I decided to work the double. She's barely ever on the schedule, but when she is, she forgets she's supposed to work and makes other plans. I think the only reason she still even has a job is because it's been slow enoughthat it hasn't impacted business. Good for Audrey, not so good for me. When we're slow, time drags by... like tonight.
"Eat." Hector commands, sliding a plate onto the counter before me.
The seductive scent of a greasy burger reaches me before I even glance down at the plate to see a burger dripping cheese onto the fries beside it. There's a small cup of ranch nestled in the middle of the fries, and I can't help grinning as I turn to him appreciatively.
"You made me dinner?"
"I had to cook something." He shrugs. "I feel useless back here. Your only customer in the place is drinking coffee."
He's not wrong. I was excited when the guy came in. He grinned as I walked toward him with the menu and stared at it for a few minutes before telling me he was just going to have a cup of coffee, black. I've refilled it twice for him, but he's on his phone, so I haven't bothered with small talk.
"Thank you." I tell Hector honestly, dipping a fry in the ranch and sighing in contentment as the warm potato seduces my soul. I didn't realize I was hungry, but all of a sudden, I'm famished.
"Don't mention it." He winks and heads back to the kitchen, leaving me alone with the man down at the end of the bar.
He can't be much older than me, and thankfully he doesn't seem keen on making friends. I take the opportunity to dip around the corner of the bar, so I can enjoy my dinner without my only patron looking up to find me shoving a double cheeseburger in my mouth. But seriously, I don't think anyone could hold it against me. For a place called the Dive, we serve some pretty amazing food. I guess that's what happens when you work for the fun of it rather than when you work to survive. Hector owns the place and does the cooking, because he's passionate about feeding people good food. Luckily for me, I'm pretty passionate about eating good food.
I am not passionate about waiting tables.
I don't really have any purpose in life, no dream that I'm working toward. It used to bother me that I never had a calling toward anything, but now I figure I'll find it eventually. My mother is obsessed with her shop and dedicated to helping people align their energies, and my father's pretty passionate about keeping the town safe, which is strange, since nothing bad ever happens in Serenity Hollow. I suppose that's why he cares so much to keep it that way. As for what I want to do with my life, I imagine I'll just be a housewife once I get married, so I'm not too worried about figuring out a long term career.
At the thought of marriage, my stomach twists, trying to imagine myself as Mrs. North. Jake's mother goes by that title, and I don't care to be anything like her. She's stuffy and boring and seems to make it her mission to keep people from having fun. I'd rather cut off my pinkie toe than be the next Mrs. North. I could keep my name, I suppose, but that doesn't make me feel much better about it. We've been dating for over a year now, so of course we talk about the future and what it will look like. I've never told him I can't actually picture it.
My parents have a good marriage, I suppose, but watching Colton's parent's divorce when we were young definitely made me feel weird about the idea of marriage. I was so scared of ending up like them even back then that I'd made Tripp promise me he'd marry me if he wasn't already taken before he turned thirty. It's ridiculous, and yet, thinking about it makes something in me flutter.
The sound of the door opening has me straighten, dropping the last bite of my burger and wiping my hands on my apron.
A middle-aged woman with her blonde hair in a low ponytail stalks toward me fast, a tired-looking man following slowly behind her.
"Please," She rushes out, brandishing a sheet of paper and shoving it under my nose. The action is so sudden I recoil a bit, expecting... I don't know what I'm expecting. But it's not a picture of a smiling girl with her brown hair hanging around her shoulders. The photo looks like it was taken at a carnival or something, given the multi-colored lights in the background. My eyes track to the word printed above the picture: Missing.
My throat tightens uncomfortably as I glance back at the woman before me, with desperation in her eyes. "My daughter." She says. "Jennifer Clark. She's missing. Have you seen her?"
Jennifer Clark?
The name rings something in the back of my head, and I turn back to the picture again, taking in the girl's round face. She's got an air of innocence about her that makes her being missing feel especially brutal when I realize I do know her. "Jenny?"
