Black hair. Torn clothes. Total Skater. Damn, those chicks are hard-core. I slap my hand against the table and our trays shift. Why? Why does Skater Girl have to wander into Taco Bell tonight?
Chris’s rough chuckles do nothing to help my growing agitation. “Admit defeat and you won’t have to suffer.”
“No way.” I stand, refusing to go down without a fight.
All girls are the same. It’s what I tell myself as I stroll to the counter. She might look different from the girls at home, but all girls want the same thing—a guy who shows interest. A guy’s problem is having the balls to do it. Good thing for me I’ve got balls. “Hi. I’m Ryan.”
Her long black hair hides her face, but her slim body with its hint of curves catches my attention. Unlike the girls at home, she isn’t wearing marked-down designer labels. Nope. She’s got her own style. Her black tank top shows more skin than it covers and her skintight jeans hug all the right places.
Skater Girl turns her head toward me and the drive-through. “Is someone going to take my fucking order?”
Chris’s laughter from our corner table jerks me back to reality. I pull off my baseball cap, mess my hand through my hair and shove the hat back in place. Why her? Why tonight? There’s a dare and I’m going to win. “Counter’s a little slow tonight.”
She glares at me like I’m a little slow. “Are you speaking to me?”
Her hard stare dares me to glance away. Keep staring, Skater Girl. You don’t scare me. I’m drawn to her eyes though. Her eyes are blue. Dark blue. I wouldn’t have thought someone with black hair could have such brilliant eyes.
“I asked you a question.” She rests a hip against the counter. “Or are you as stupid as you look?”
Yep, pure punk: attitude, nose ring and a sneer that can kill on sight. She’s not my type, but she doesn’t have to be. I just need her number. “You’d probably get better service if you watched your language.”
A hint of amusement touches her lips and dances in her eyes. Not the kind of amusement you laugh with. It’s the taunting kind. “Does my language bother you?”
Yes. “No.” I don’t care for the word, but I know when I’m being tested.
“So my language doesn’t bother you, but you say—” she raises her voice and leans over the counter “—I could get some fucking service if I watched my language.”
Time to switch tactics. “What do you want to eat?”
“Fish. What do you think I want? I’m at a taco joint.”
Chris laughs again and this time Logan joins in. If I don’t salvage this, I’ll be listening to their ridicule the entire way home. I lean over the counter and wave at the girl working the drive-through. I give her a smile. She smiles back. Take lessons, Skater Girl. This is how it’s supposed to work. “Can I have a minute?”
Drive-Through Chick’s face brightens and she holds up a finger as she continues taking an order. “Be right there. Promise.”
I turn back to Skater Girl and instead of the warm thank-you I should be receiving she shakes her head, clearly annoyed. “Jocks.”
My smile falters. Hers grows.
“How do you know I’m a jock?”
Her eyes wander to my chest and I fight a grimace. Written in black letters across my gray shirt is Bullitt County High School, Baseball State Champions.
“So you are stupid,” she says.
I’m done. I take one step in the direction of the table then stop. I don’t lose. “What’s your name?”
“What do I have to do to make you leave me alone?”
“Give me your phone number.”
The right side of her mouth quirks up. “You’re kidding.”
“Give me your name and phone number and I’ll walk away.”
“You must be brain damaged.”
“Welcome to Taco Bell, can I take your order?”
We both look at Drive-Through Chick.
I pull out my wallet and slam ten dollars on the counter. “Tacos.”
“And a Coke,” Skater Girl says. “Large. Since he’s paying.”
Drive-Through Chick enters the order and returns to the drive-through window.
We stare at each other. I swear this girl never blinks.
“I believe a thank-you is in order,” I say.
“I never asked you to pay.”
“Give me your name and phone number and we’ll call it even.”
She licks her lips. “There is absolutely nothing you can do to ever get me to give you my name or number.”
Ring the bell. Playtime ended with those words. Purposely invading her space, I steal a step toward her and place a hand on the counter next to her body. It affects her. I can tell. Her eyes lose the amusement and her arms hug her body. She’s small. Smaller than I expected. That attitude is so big I hadn’t noticed her height or size. “I bet I can.”
“Eight tacos and one large Coke,” says the girl from behind the counter.
Skater Girl snatches the order and spins on her heel before I can process I’m on the verge of losing. “Wait!”
She stops at the door. “What?”
Her what doesn’t carry much anger. Maybe I’m getting somewhere. “Give me your phone number. I want to call you.”
No, I don’t, but I do want to win. She’s wavering. I can tell.
“I’ll tell you what.” She flashes a smile that drips with a mixture of allure and wickedness. “If you can walk me to my car and open the door for me, I’ll give you my number.”
Can.
She steps into the humid night and skips down the sidewalk to the back parking lot. I never would’ve bet this girl skipped. I follow, tasting the sweet victory.
Victory doesn’t last long. Before she can even make it past the yellow lines confining an old rusty car, two menacing guys climb out.
“Something I can do for you, man?” Tattoos run the length of his arms.
“Nope.” I shove my hands in my pockets and relax my stance. I have no intention of getting into a fight, especially when I’m outnumbered.