“You going to try and kick me out before you feed me?” I asked.
They weren’t kicking me out. They didn’t know how stubborn I could be, but they’d find out. I wasn’t planning on going to blows or anything—not that I could ever hope to fight off three muscled guys—but I wasn’t going to be around enough for them to argue about it with me.
“Nah. You can eat with us,” Mac said. I could tell Eli didn’t like it. He wanted me gone. He didn’t want me anywhere near their beach adventure regardless of how our bodies had reacted when he’d had his hands on my waist.
I didn’t really want me anywhere near them either. For many of the same reasons.
Truck joined us on the deck.
“Tots are ready.”
“Did you burn them to a crisp again?” Mac asked.
“No, wedgie-face, they’re appropriately crisp.”
“I didn’t know cooking tater tots required a culinary degree,” I teased, trying to lighten the mood. Lighten the heaviness inside me.
Truck gave me a serious look. “Tater tots are an art form, honey. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”
I laughed, and he pretended to look offended.
No one said anything when I joined them in making up a burger and scooping tots from the pan. I was the first one to make it back out to the deck, and I found a spot on the top of the table. All three men stopped at the door when they saw me there.
I’d always felt more comfortable on top of things. It drove my dad crazy when I’d sit on the coffee table instead of the couch. Or the back of the couch instead of the cushions. Maybe that’s what had encouraged it. Pushing the limits on the little things that I could get away with without being reprimanded.
None of the guys said anything. They just found seats in the chairs. So predictable. I’d give my right arm to find a guy someday who would join me atop the table. Like Michael Schoeffling with Molly Ringwald in Sixteen Candles that Jenna had made me watch. I didn’t consider myself a romantic. And I definitely didn’t want to find love yet, like Jenna had, because I had bigger plans for myself. But someday…someday, I’d love to find someone who would see things, even momentarily, the way I did.
The guys were a quiet group. It was something I was unaccustomed to. The boys I was usually around were rowdy and obnoxious, striving to gain attention and top dog status at a high school that was considered the next coming of God. But really, they were all bottom dwellers. More reasons for me to not want anything romantic with any of them.
I’d take this silence over the stupid teen jokes any day of the week. Plus, I guessed these men were used to being silent during mealtimes. Military code everywhere they went at school. Not exactly your normal American college experience.
Once I was done, I slid down and brought my plate back to the kitchen. I could hear their hushed conversation but not the words. Even so, I knew it was about me.
I cleaned up the kitchen a bit as a thank-you for the meal and then walked back to the doorway. Their conversation halted.
“Well, it’s been nice Mac Truck and Mr. Grumpy, but I’m outta here. I’ll catch you later.”
I grabbed my slouch handbag, my guitar, and my phone and headed out the door. I could feel their eyes on me when I got into my car and did a three-point turn to get around the black truck parked behind me, using the seagrass as a drive-way and probably leaving tire tracks where Dad wouldn’t want them.
I rolled down the windows, waved my hand, and drove toward town. They didn’t know, but “later” was going to be tonight when I needed a place to crash my head. I didn’t have a choice about it, but for now, they could think I was gone.
