Summer raises her eyebrows, imploring me to continue. “I don’t sleep around, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“Why would I think that?”
“I don’t know. Why do you?”
She releases a sigh through her nose, her eyes moving down to the table, avoiding me. “Look. You seem like you genuinely care about Mercedes. I’ve never seen her connect with anyone the same way she has with you. And the fact that you have somehow managed to get the Knight house clean, and stay clean, is a miracle in and of itself. But King is like my brother. The fact that you screwed with him is not something I will be able to easily forgive.”
“Screwed with him?” I lean forward as the words fly from my mouth. “He screwed with me.”
“You didn’t call him.”
“He told me his name was Bentley,” I cry. “I looked like a fool asking way too many times to way too many people if they knew a Bentley because when I woke up the next day, his number was rubbed off. He had my number. This wasn’t me playing games and disappearing.”
I watch each of my admissions run through a silent mental checklist. What have I just confessed?
“So you like King?” Her voice is quiet, trying to restrain what I believe to be hope, which confuses me even further.
I shake my head swiftly. “King and I…”
Summer leans forward, her neck stretching. “Yes…”
“We’re, I don’t know … friends … I guess. Part of the time I think he hates me. Others I think he likes having me around to torment. Occasionally he seems to just be cool with things.”
“Friends?” Summer spits the word.
“I’m not getting involved in anything with King. We got along well when we met that night. Now we’re starting to finally find some even ground, but there’s no way in hell I’m going to hang out with him when he’s spending time with someone that has feelings for him.” I shake my head with more conviction. “No way.”
Her whole face squishes with confusion. “What are you talking about? Isabelle?”
“Yes, Isabelle.”
“They aren’t dating. They’ve never dated.”
“She obviously has feelings for him.” Her words are slowly absorbing through my defenses, relieving me far more than I wish to admit.
“Yes, yes she does. Isabelle has known King forever. They grew up together. I told you this when I introduced you guys.” Summer’s neck retracts and her shoulders fall ever so slightly. “That was intentional. You shouldn’t feel obligated to be a bench warmer because she likes him. King doesn’t have feelings for her—not like that, anyway. And she knows it. They’re friends and have only ever been friends.”
I break her stare and look down at the table. Her encouragement is unsettling. This was the last thing I was expecting to hear, especially from her.
“Lo, King has feelings for you. But if you’re going to date other guys and keep dangling that in his face…” I glance up and her lips are pursed, her chin tilted. “Sometimes I really like you, and then other times…”
“You hate me,” I finish.
This time her eyes hold mine. “Sometimes, but not for the reasons you probably think I do. Kash never lets anyone get very close to him, yet he seems to really like you. I thought you guys were … Well, you already know what I thought. And now that I know you’re her”—Summer’s eyes travel downward again, but I can tell by the stretched skin by her temples that they’re widened—“my mind is a crazy mess of thoughts. Did you take this job because of him?”
“No! I didn’t even know King lived there!” My objection is so loud a couple across the restaurant looks our way, making me duck my head.
“Are things with your boyfriend serious?”
“Boyfriend?”
“Charlie.”
A laugh escapes my lips, followed by a giggle that makes me close my eyes and look out the window in time to see a full-sized SUV rear-end Summer’s truck.
“Shit!” Summer shoots up from her seat, her jaw dropped and attention diverted outside. “Son of a bitch.” Summer exhales the words. She swings her purse over her shoulder and then looks to me. “Write down his plates,” she demands, and then she’s gone.
I find a piece of charcoal in my bag and quickly pull my things out of the booth, following her out into the rain. I fish my arm back through my bag, searching for a pen, knowing the charcoal won’t last long on my skin with this weather. I rip the cap off with my teeth and write the series of numbers and letters on the inside of my wrist before walking over to where Summer is talking with a raised voice to a wiry man with red hair who has his arms spread wide in disbelief or irritation. As I get closer I realize it’s both.
I start to text Mia to ask her to call the police when my phone rings, Kash’s name filling the screen. I consider ignoring it before accepting the call and pressing the phone to my ear. “Hey, Kash. Sorry, do you mind if I call you right back? There’s kind of a situation.”
“A situation? What, with you and Summer?”
“Someone just rear-ended her.” At my words, the man flips around, his arms rising higher.
“She’s parked over the line! This was her fault!” he bellows.
“Yeah, a situation,” I repeat before turning my phone off and stepping up closer to the man, tilting my chin with disbelief.
“Did you guys exchange insurance information?” I ask the question, already knowing the answer is no.
“This is bullshit! I’m going to explain to them that you parked like a fucking idiot with half of your truck sticking out in traffic!”
I glance in the direction of her truck, noticing she is in fact slightly over the line, but not enough to impede another vehicle.
“Good thing they hire people to research accidents and facts,” Summer says.
His face turns a startling shade of red, his eyes bulging with anger. “I want your name, your address, I’m going to destroy you!”
“It’s just a car,” I say, forcing his attention to return to me. “If this is how you handle all of your mistakes, let me give you a quick life lesson: you need to dial the asshole meter down.” My words are spoken firmly, my eye contact never wavering from his.
His eyes grow rounder with shock. “Who in the hell do you think you are? I’m not talking to you! Unless it was both of you morons that parked!” His voice is alarmingly loud, and his comments make my blood heat and heart race, but I calmly blink to feign how unaffected I am.
Summer’s head rears back with a retort, forcing my response to come faster than I wish. I want him to have to wait for my words. “Nice to meet you, asshole. I’m Lauren, the witness that is happy to complete my civic duty by reporting to anyone that wants to hear how you hit her truck. Now, I think you need to grab your license and insurance information because this moron already called the cops.” I force my jaw to relax and my lips to loosen so I can continue the façade of being calm and unaltered by his behavior.
I notice Summer take a step away, and I want to see where she’s going but refuse to break eye contact with this guy. It’s a small gesture, but I will not be the one to back down.
“Good! I hope you did call the police!” His voice has turned vile, belligerent. His face has reddened even more, blanketing his freckles and kicking my heart rate up a few more notches. I steel myself, relaxing my mouth again to ensure I’m not expressing any emotion. His eyes narrow, noting my impartialness, and he takes a long step, bringing him close enough that I can smell his cologne. “You’re such a—”
“Finish that sentence,” King’s voice demands in an explosion. He appears beside me, his shoulder moving in front of mine, nearly pressing his chest against the man. “Finish your sentence!”