Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 147545 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 738(@200wpm)___ 590(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147545 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 738(@200wpm)___ 590(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
I can feel Tor’s gaze on me, as well as the tension in my shoulders from the stress of ignoring him. I know he won’t like it, but it feels like a collision of worlds having him here after everything that has happened. There’s a whole reality only we know about, and his presence here makes me nervous just like it did before, but for a different reason.
I can’t deal with him publicly, so I finally make a decision. I turn around, point to the little hall outside the employee entrance door, then start walking that way.
He follows at a leisurely pace, so I’m waiting outside the door for him to get there with my arms crossed.
Tor catalogs my stance and my facial expression, but he doesn’t say a word, so I do.
“I’m working right now. This is my job.”
Shrugging, he says, “And I’m ordering dinner. Family’s sad. No one feels much like cooking.”
“Yeah, I’m sure the entire town hasn’t delivered more food than you could possibly eat in the wake of the death of the most popular guy in existence, apparently.”
Noting my irritation, he says, “I’m guessing you’ve seen the armbands.”
“I don’t even want to talk about the fucking armbands. And your sister brought them here? Are you serious?”
“Sorry about that. She’s… Tessa.”
Before I can stop myself, the question I’ve contemplated for hours now comes flying out of my mouth. “Are you passing them out, too?”
“No,” he says, holding my gaze.
I can’t help it; my eyes narrow suspiciously.
His eyebrows shoot up. “I’m not. My mom gave me a box of them. It’s sitting unopened in my trunk. You can go look if you don’t believe me.”
I do believe him, but my imagination has been getting the best of me, and I had to ask. I open my mouth to speak, but the drive-thru beeps in my ear, alerting me to a customer. Sighing, I tell him, “I have an order.” Then I press the button on my headset and say, “Welcome to Chuck’s Chicken Shack, what can I get for you today?”
I have to go back behind the counter to ring up my order. Thankfully, it’s just an individual meal, so I can process it quickly. Once the customer pulls away from the drive-thru speaker and approaches the window, I turn around to pack the order, but I see Josh has already come up front and started packing it for me.
“Oh, you didn’t have to do that,” I say, grabbing a plastic bag and opening it, then grabbing a packet of utensils to stick inside.
“No problem,” he says, his gaze warily registering the Walters twin standing at the front counter. A week ago, he probably wouldn’t have known which one it was, but now there’s obviously no question. “You need anything, Shaley?”
“Nope,” she chirps, grabbing the handles and turning to give Tor his food.
I watch as Tor gets the food but doesn’t leave.
My customer is at the window, so I paste on a polite smile and repeat their total. They hand me a credit card, so I go to the credit card machine.
Josh raises his voice a little, asking, “You need something else?” from my side of the counter.
My stomach sinks as I realize he’s talking to Tor.
“Nope,” Tor answers evenly. “Just waiting for Cassie.”
“Why?” Josh asks.
Nerves getting the best of me, I glance at Josh over my shoulder as the credit card machine processes. “I got it, don’t worry.”
“We aren’t taking any of those armbands,” he tells Tor.
“It’s not about the armbands,” I say, wishing Josh would just go in the back.
He shoots me a scowl as he closes the steel lid over the side dishes.
I finish my customer’s order as quickly as possible, and as soon as the window slides shut, I go back to the counter and lean over it. “I have to work,” I tell Tor.
He nods, but his gaze isn’t on me—it’s on Josh. “I see that.”
I don’t know why my stomach sinks. I don’t know why I feel compelled to reassure him… reassure him about what? That Josh is just a friend who has seen me have panic attacks in the back room because Tor’s family caught me unaware at my place of work, so he really doesn’t want him here?
I don’t even know what to say, so I don’t say anything—but I still feel like I should.
Tor’s gaze shifts to mine. “What are you doing after work?”
“Shower. Sleep?”
“Why don’t you come over to my place? You can do all that just as easily there.”
“I don’t have clothes there, and… I’m not going to your parents’ house.”
“Not their house. The lake house. I was planning to go back for the first time tonight, and I don’t really want to go alone.”
I don’t really want to go back there, either, but I can’t ignore the slight softening of my guard at the vulnerability inherent in what he just said. Instead of saying that, I ask quietly, “Do you really think I’m the best person to comfort you in that situation?”