Page 89 of Beneath the Hood

A hole burns through my chest at her question, and I can practically taste the way the butter would melt on my tongue, but I know there isn’t enough room left in my daily intake to squeeze in any extra carbs. And even if there was, the thought of not knowing how they make their butter—what exactly is in it and how much—makes anxiety prick against my lungs.

Shaking my head, I make a show of taking a big bite of my Kale salad.

Kayla glances at the half-eaten bread in her hand and drops it to her plate, her nose crinkling in obvious disgust. “Ugh, I would kill to have your dedication.”

I don’t respond, not sure how to since she always says the same thing, and I never know what to tell her other than “sohaveit.”

“What are you getting into tonight?” she asks.

I shrug. “It’s Monday.”

“And?” Kayla’s eyes widen.

“Mondays are my days to do nothing.” I try to bite back the smile when the thought of Jackson pops in my mind, but I can tell from the way Kayla’s eyes spark that I’m not successful.

“Nothingsure looks like it’s gonna be fun.” Kayla wags her eyebrows.

Should I tell her?

It would be nice to get it off my chest. The secret of Jackson and me is heavy, every day spent with him like a new brick being laid on our foundation, the urge to share my happiness with someone making me burst at the seams.

“I’m seeing someone,” I blurt.

Kayla’s eyes widen.

“No one can know,” I rush out.

“Okay.” Kayla nods. “Who is it?”

I cover my face with my hands. “I can’t tell you.”

“Um... excuse me, bitch? I think the fuck not. That’s the equivalent of saying guess what and then never mind. You better tell me.”

I chew on my lip, debating whether or not I can trust her. If I can’t tell my secrets to my best friend, whocanI tell them to?

“Jackson Rhoades.”

She stares at me blankly. “I’m sorry, who?”

Rolling my eyes, I lean forward. “Jackson. Blond, hair in a bun. Insultingly good-looking. Tags along to the clubs.”

Her eyes flare as she sighs, pushing her sunglasses on top of her shiny brown hair. “That’s who I thought you meant.” Her forehead creases. “Isn’t he kind of old?”

I shrug, disappointment trickling through my veins. “Twenty-eight. But Kayla, he’s...everything.”

“Does Sierra know?”

My stomach jolts at her question, surprise flickering through me that her first reaction is to ask if my manager knows. I’m not sure how things like this usually work, but in my head, I imagined telling her and us gushing together, my excitement bleeding into hers until she demanded every detail, her joy solely because someone is making me happy.

But maybe that’s not how girlfriends work in real life.

The pinched look on her face brings me back to reality quick and I shake my head. “No, Kayla. I told you, you can’t tell anyone. I don’t want the public to butt their way into our relationship.” I chew on my bottom lip. “Besides, he works for my dad. I don’t want to get him fired.”

She chokes on her orange juice, smacking her chest. “I forgot about that. Jeez, really slummin’ it this time around, huh?” She smiles as she says it, but annoyance stomps its way through me, slamming against the walls of my heart.

“I don’t care about his money,” I say, my gaze narrowing.

Kayla raises her hands in surrender.

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