The Deal

“Hey, I handle the drinking part just fine. It’s the morning after that does me in.” I smirk at my teammates. “Besides, I’m your captain. Somebody has to stay sober to keep your crazy asses in line.”


“Thanks, Mom.” Logan pauses, then shakes his head. “Actually, no, you’re the mom,” he tells Tucker, grinning at Tuck’s apron before turning back at me. “Guess that makes you the dad. You two are positively domestic.”

We both flip him the finger.

“Aw, are Mommy and Daddy mad at me?” He gives a mock gasp. “Are you guys gonna get a divorce?”

“Fuck off,” Tuck says, but he’s laughing.

The microwave beeps, and Tucker pulls out the defrosted chicken, then proceeds to cook our dinner while I do my homework at the counter. And damned if the whole thing isn’t domestic as hell.





14




Hannah


“Hey, Han-Han.” Allie surprises me at work tonight, sliding into my booth with a beaming smile. When Sean slides in next to her, I have a tough time fighting a grin. They’re sitting on the same side of the booth? Whoa, they must be getting serious again, because only couples who are madly in love do that.

“’Sup, Hannah,” Sean says as he slings his arm around Allie’s slender shoulders.

“Hey.” I’ve been dealing with pain-in-the-ass customers all evening, so I’m genuinely happy to see some friendly faces. “You guys want something to drink while you look at the menu?”

“Chocolate milkshake, please,” Allie announces.

Sean holds up his index and middle fingers. “Two straws,” he adds with a wink.

I laugh. “God, you two are so sweet you’re giving me a toothache.”

But I’m happy to see them happy. For a frat boy, Sean is actually pretty decent, and he’s never fucked around on Allie, as far as I know. Their past breakups were always her decision—she’d thought they were too young to be so serious—and Sean had been infinitely patient with her every time.

I prepare their lovers milkshake, then deliver it to the booth with an extravagant bow. “Madam, monsieur.”

“Thanks, babe. Hey, so listen,” Allie says as Sean studies the menu. “Some of the girls on our floor are having a Ryan Gosling movie marathon tomorrow night.”

Sean groans. “Another Gosling fest? I don’t know what chicks see in that guy. He’s scrawny as shit.”

“He’s beautiful,” Allie corrects before glancing at me again. “You in?”

“Depends what time.”

“Tracy’s got a late class, but she’ll be back by nine. So around then?”

“Shit. I’m tutoring at nine.”

Allie’s face clouds with disappointment. “Can’t you try to tutor earlier?” She wiggles her eyebrows as if trying to entice me. “Val’s making sangrias…”

I have to admit, I am enticed. It’s been a while since I’ve hung out with the girls or consumed anything alcoholic. I might not drink at parties (and for a damn good reason) but I don’t mind getting my buzz on every now and then.

“Let me call Garrett on my break. I’ll see if he’s free earlier.”

Sean looks up from the menu, interested in the conversation again. “So you and Graham are best buds now?”

“Naah. It’s just a tutor/tutoree relationship.”

“Nuh-uh,” Allie teases. She turns to her boyfriend. “They’re totally friends. They text and everything.”

“Fine. We’re friends,” I say grudgingly. When Sean gives me a knowing grin, I promptly scowl at him. “Just friends. So banish all those dirty thoughts from your mind.”

“Oh come on, can you really blame me? He’s the captain of the hockey team and he goes through girls faster than he goes through a roll of toilet paper. You know everyone’s gonna think you’re his next conquest.”

“They can think whatever they want.” I offer a little shrug. “But it’s not like that with us.”

Sean seems unconvinced, which I chalk up to being a guy thing. I doubt there’s a guy out there who believes that men and women are capable of being purely platonic.

I leave Allie and Sean and tend to my other customers. When my break rolls around, I pop into the staff room in the back to call Garrett. The dial tone goes on forever before he finally answers, his gruff “hello” overpowered by the loud music in the background.

“Hey, it’s Hannah,” I tell him.

“I know. I have Caller ID, dumbass.”

“I was calling to see if we can change our tutoring time for tomorrow.”

A swell of hip-hop blasts into my ear. “Sorry, what?”

I raise my voice so he can hear me better. “Can we meet up earlier tomorrow? I’ve got plans at nine, so I was hoping I could come by around seven. Is that cool?”

His response is drowned out by the deafening pounding of Jay-Z.

“Where are you?” I’m practically shouting now.

“Home,” comes his muffled response. “We invited a few people over to watch the game.”

A few people? It sounds like he’s in the middle of Times Square.

“So you’re coming at nine?”

I swallow my aggravation. “No, at seven. Is that okay?”