And I kind of fucking like that idea.
She’s still, though, when I reach out to wipe the smudge off, and I don’t take my hand away at first. Not until a car blows by us and honks like an idiot.
Mood ruined.
Ass.
“Nothing you could have helped me with.” She still manages to hold onto the smugness when she lets the moment pass. I let her have it. She earned that shit.
I point at the hood after she closes it. “That was-”
“Impressive?” She smirks.
“Surprising. Thanks.”
Green smiles full on. “That’s the second time you’ve thanked me in as many days, Stiles. Might wanna watch it there.”
She’s right.
I’m forming bad habits.
I blame Lana.
I like the way Green blows off the compliment I just gave her but is definitely sporting some red in her cheeks, all of a sudden. Something else I note that I’m kinda fucking fond of.
“It could have been as simple as you being out of gas. But something tells me you’re a little more observant than that.” She wipes her black pantsuit down and stomps her heels against the pavement to get the dirt off of them. She’s completely contradictory—the way she can be so put together but underneath it all she’s a jumble of babbling nerves.
“Wanna grab some late breakfast slash early lunch?” I’ve got a lot to catch her up on. Plus, I’m fucking hungry—a detail I hadn’t noticed until I was standing here with nothing to do but watch Green work on the Chevelle like a pro.
Okay, maybe I wouldn’t mind spending a little more time with the crazy, confusing, and, most of all, tempting Miss Green.
“Uh.” She checks the time on her wrist. “Yeah, why not? I have to talk to you anyway.”
That’s right. “Ditto. Let’s go.”
“Where to?”
“Follow me; I know a place.”
“Why am I not surprised by that?”
“Because I’m fucking awesome?”
“Ha.”
I back away toward the door, and she turns to go back to her Honda. The way her ass sways in that outfit combined with the fact that she knows her way around the Chevelle is enough to convince me, screw Walker. He can wait.
X X X
I take Green to a buffet-style breakfast place Nick and I found years ago. Once upon a time, we used to meet up and chat every so often. Of course, that was before the academy was just a bad memory, and I became another disappointment my father couldn’t stop fucking harping on.
Good times.
I still like the food, though. So every once in a while, I make time to go grab a bite.
This seems like a good time to me.
If it wasn’t for the fact that Green looks like the cat that just swallowed the canary, I’d be a little more psyched about the whole thing. As it is, she’s making my head spin, the way she can’t stop jiggling her keys and fucking with her hair.
Instead of forcing a conversation out of her, I wait quietly. ’Cause I’m a patient motherfucker when I need to be. I let her decide when she’s gonna spill.
Whatever it is.
We’re seated after about a ten-minute wait.
Still nothing.
Our menus are laid out on the table after we’re lead to a quiet corner. Green studies it, but she’s not really fucking reading it, if you know what I mean.
She still hasn’t stopped fucking with her keys.
I put a hand on top of hers to stop the jitteriness.
When she looks at me, I know it’s time.
“So listen, Stiles, I─”
“Hey there, Jackson.” Queue the damn server, of course. Worst timing ever.
Sheila’s great and all, been here forever, but fuck me.
I could tell her we need a minute, but honest to God, starving here. So I hold my arms out about a foot apart. “Can we get two of those big ass breakfast specials with extra bacon and─”
“No bacon for me.” Green’s still searching but not searching the menu, despite the fact Sheila’s about to bring her the best fucking breakfast she’s ever had.
“Green, every red-blooded American likes bacon.”
“Not this one.” She points to herself.
“How do you not like bacon?”
She lowers the flimsy piece of laminated cardboard and eyes me. “Do you know which part of the pig bacon comes from, Stiles?”
I peek up at Sheila. The side of her mouth is rising into a hesitant smile. It makes her look about ten years younger and like there’s a whole lot more to her than taking orders and schlepping food.
Back to Green, though. “Seriously? Have your fill of pork fried rice which may or may not actually be pork at all, but bacon? That’s where you draw the line?”
She huffs and the frustration she’s been harboring is set free.
“Whatever, I mean, yeah, no, go ahead.” She smiles the fake smile up at Sheila. “Whatever he ordered is fine.”
“What’s up with you?” I can’t take it anymore. Edgy Green is making my teeth hurt.
“People really like you,” she says with a frown.