“Okay, full disclosure. There were four. But I ate three of them before the awards ceremony.”
He looks at the crumbs in the plastic container. “Checks out. And bonus points for eating cookies for breakfast. You are off the sociopath list.”
“I’m so relieved.” I roll my eyes.
“So, what are we eating first?” he asks. “Typically, I’d say dessert first, because that’s just the way I live my life, pleasure before duty and all that. But that sandwich looks pretty good.” He tears it in half and offers me the larger piece. I take it and pull off a small bite.
“Dainty,” he observes. “I can dig that.”
“Not really. Just hungry and not used to eating when a total stranger is staring at me.”
“You wound me, Willa. We’re not strangers, we’re friends. And friends,” he says, “don’t let friends walk around with peanut butter smeared on their lips.”
I run my tongue across my lips. “I have no peanut butter on my lips.”
“You sure about that?” He leans in and swipes the imaginary peanut butter away from the corner of my mouth with a quick brush of his finger. I savor his touch, though I know I shouldn’t.
Knox pulls back and licks his finger. “I like having lunch with you, Willa,” he tells me.
I smile, but I shouldn’t. I can’t get attached, and the problem is—I like having lunch with him, too.
Chapter 3
Willa
The sun hasn’t risen quite yet,but the bus is already half-full. In half an hour, we’re set to leave our high school parking lot and drive three hours to spend a full day at Falcon’s Peak, a theme park in Eastern Pennsylvania.
I was going to pass on the trip. I don’t really know my classmates, except for the handful of girls I talk to in homeroom. But I certainly wasn’t forking over $75 to spend a day making small talk with them. But then, I saw that Falcon’s Peak has a water park. And not just a water park, but a lazy river. I’m pretty sure the lazy river is the land of my people.
So, I spent the money, bought a new bathing suit, and have plans to spend my entire day soaking up the sun on an inner tube on the water. And eating cheese fries. I’ll treat myself to cheese fries.
My plans for the day are made, and my sunglasses, suit, and towel are in my backpack, so I close my eyes and try to catch a little more sleep. I covered the late shift last night and I’m dragging. It’s hard to relax, though, with people moving up and down the aisle, shoving bags in overhead storage, and talking at full volume at 6:45 in the morning.
A guy I’ve never seen before plops down into the seat next to me, his giant, overstuffed backpack taking up all the available room between us. Music is blasting through his headphones as he drums out a beat on the armrest, while simultaneously holding a loud conversation with the guy across the aisle about which rollercoaster is the most epic. And yes, he uses the word epic. I’m about to open my mouth to lie and tell him the seat is taken, but someone beats me to it.
Knox Gallagher.
My too-hot-for-words lunch date from yesterday takes one look at Epic Roller Coaster Boy and tells him to take a hike. “Dude, you’re in my seat.” There’s no venom in Knox’s voice, but it’s clear he’s claiming his space.
“Sorry, man. Didn’t know you were sitting here.”
“It’s cool,” Knox assures the guy as he vacates the seat and heads further down the aisle. Then, my new seat mate turns those intoxicating brown eyes on me. “You’re welcome.”
I laugh. “I could have handled that all by myself. I was about to tell him to find another spot.”
Knox shrugs. “No doubt you could have easily booted Andy’s ass out. I’m saying you’re welcome because you get to spend the next three hours sitting next to me.”
I roll my eyes, though I can’t say I’m disappointed at the prospect of hanging out with Knox during the ride. “Lucky me. But don’t get too excited. I worked late last night, and I was planning on taking a nap on the way there.”
“But will it be an epic nap?” Knox smirks.
I swat his arm playfully. “Ok, I probably do owe you a thank you for switching seats. Now if only you had a blanket in that backpack of yours,” I nod to the book bag he’s stowed at his feet. “It’s, like, ten degrees in here.”
“I don’t have a blanket, but I can do you one better.” Reaching into his backpack, he pulls out a grey, oversized sweatshirt with the word Rockvale stitched across the front in gold and navy. “Want my hoodie?”
I take it and pull it on, reveling in the softness and warmth. “Thanks.”
“You comfy?” He asks, and I nod.
