THE NEXT TIME I SEE Spider, it’s a few days later and in the most unexpected place.
“Order’s up, Rose,” comes from Archie, the head order cook at Jo’s Diner, a cute replica of a nineteen fifties restaurant. He slides two plates under the heat lamp, one a deluxe burger with a side of spicy fries and the other a side salad with grilled chicken.
I nod, tucking the errant strands of my French braid behind my ears. It’s a weeknight and school’s back in session, along with my part-time job.
Putting the plates on my tray along with drink refills, I hurry the order over to the table where Lexa and Oscar sit, pretending to do homework while they annoy me at work. I place it down in front of them.
Lexa arches a carefully drawn in dark eyebrow.
I roll my eyes. “What now?”
“H-E-L-L-O? I need ranch for my salad.”
I blow at the tendrils of hair that have escaped and are tickling my forehead. “You know where it is.” I point to the bar along the back wall of the diner, which is lined with soda dispensers, napkins, and a range of condiments. It’s actually a pretty cool set up. “Get it yourself.”
Oscar snorts. “Yeah, biotch. There are no maids here at Jo’s.”
I send him a grateful nod and move to the table the hostess just sat, one along the windows that line the restaurant.
I blink at the image in front of me.
Spider Wainwright sits in a booth, looking rather bemused and out of place. He’s wearing jeans, a tight Vital Rejects shirt that perfectly accentuates his biceps, and a pair of black Converse.
“You,” I say, pretty much at a loss for anything else.
“Me.” He grins wryly and toys with the menu. Almost shyly, he looks at me, his eyes taking in my bobby socks and Keds, the rolled-up boyfriend jeans, and the black polo with Jo’s red logo of a hamburger. There’s a small apron tied around my waist.
The bobby socks and awful polo are a requirement to work here, and it’s not exactly cute. With a permanent stench of French fries, it’s the un-coolest outfit ever, but on a good night, I can make a hundred in tips alone.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
“I came to see you.”
He’s here . . . in Jo’s . . . and he came to see me.
A flurry of butterflies go crazy in my stomach.
“How did you know I worked here?”
He shrugs. “Father mentioned it when I picked up my things this week.” A thoughtful look crosses his face. “He likes you. I can tell by the way he talks about you.”
I stand there, trying to play it cool. “Would you like to order something?”
He looks down at the menu on the table. He’s jittery, his fingers thumping against the table. “What do you recommend?”
I shove my hands in my apron pockets, fingering the cash I’ve collected since I started work tonight. “Our milkshakes are great.”
“Mmmm, yeah,” he says as he stares up at me. His eyes are on my lips.
“Would you like one?”
“What?”
I bite my lip so I won’t giggle. I think I’m distracting him—and I’m not even trying. “A milkshake?”
He looks down at the menu as telltale blush works up his face. “Ah, right. Yes please, a chocolate one. And a hamburger and chips—I mean fries.”
He’s not as cocky as usual, and I’m baffled.
“What’s up with you?” I ask.
He rubs his jaw. “Just thought I’d stop by and see a . . . friend? That is, if she still wants to be my friend?” His brown eyes are hesitant as he watches me.
“She does.”
He nods. “Actually, I got some good news today, and I wanted to tell you about it.”
“Oh? What is it?”
“Rose, order up,” I hear Archie call from the back.
Spider looks around, as if he’s rather surprised to find himself there. “It might take a while to tell you. Can you join me when my order is ready?”
I look around at my packed section. I have a four-top with two frat guys whose order is still cooking and another two-top.
I do get breaks, but never during a rush, and since it’s the first week back from break, everyone is popping into Jo’s to either socialize or grab dinner.
“It’s too crazy in here, but I get off in two hours. We can hang out then?”
Say yes.
I want to talk to him more. I want . . .
He grimaces. “Damn. I already made plans with some friends I went to school with.”
“Oh? Where are you going? Maybe I can tag along?”
At first I’m surprised by my forwardness, but then I decide it’s okay. Everything with Spider seems so . . . impermanent, like he can disappear in an instant, so why not put it all out there.
He shrugs. “To a bar downtown.”
“Oh.”
He frowns. “It’s probably not a good idea for you to join me.”
“True.”
Fighting my disappointment, I tell him I need to put his order in and walk away. My path takes me past Oscar and Lexa, who are furiously whispering as I approach. Lexa waves at me, her fingers pointing at Spider, her eyes big as saucers.
Oscar has the menu hiding half his face as he checks him out. Spider waves back, obviously noticing their attention.
Sweet baby Jesus. They are ridiculous.
“Is that him?” Lexa hisses once I arrive at their table.
I flare my eyes at her. “Stop ogling him.”
“Oh. My. God. He is the most beautiful creature ever created. His hair . . . that tattoo . . . I want to die. Please, please, please with sugar on top will you introduce us?” Oscar says, holding his hands up in begging motion.
I gaze up at the ceiling in frustration. “You’re old enough to fan-boy on your own. You don’t need my help.”
The bell above the door jingles as Trenton and his teammate Garrett stalk into the diner. Rich, athletic, and attractive, both are prize catches for Claremont. Aria Romero, Trenton’s cousin and first-class mean girl, trails behind them. She’s dating Garrett, who has the kind of face that’s set in a permanent leer, and his eyes are constantly glued to my chest.
They’re the upper echelon of Claremont and I’m on the bottom—not that I care.
“It’s like a J.Crew ad,” Oscar says with a smirk as they waltz in the door and all eyes turn toward them. “So boring. What ever happened to being an individual?”
I tap the jaunty beret he’s wearing. “Not everyone’s as stylish as you.”
Oscar bats his lashes. “Oh, shush, you’ll make me blush.”
Aria’s eyes sweep the room and land on us, making my hands tighten around my tray.
She’s beautiful with curly brown hair, an hourglass figure, and a tongue that can flay a fish. Her eyes are ice blue and arctic.
When I first arrived at Claremont freshman year, she delighted in telling me how sorry she was that I didn’t make the cut for her social club at Claremont. The Claremont Chicks didn’t think my “sketchy background” would fit in with them.
Needless to say, I do my best to avoid her.