But he doesn’t turn around or stop.
Since it’s the end of my shift and I don’t have any more tables left, I hurriedly undo my braid and apply a quick swipe of lip gloss I have in my apron. Spider and I are going to talk.
I fly out the door just a couple minutes after him, but he’s gone already.
In fact, the entire place has nearly emptied except for Oscar and Lexa. They both give me quick hugs and leave too, saying they have homework waiting on them. Cyndi comes up to me, glowing because Spider left her a hundred-dollar bill as a tip. She offers to give me half, but I sigh and say no.
I just want him, not his money.
Spider
I RUN MY HAND ACROSS the dashboard of my Jeep. It might be close to six years old, but Father kept it in pristine shape while he stored it in one of his garages at the house. It brings back good memories . . . and bad. Aria was right—I was a hell raiser in prep school. I even ran away a couple of times, anything to get my father’s attention.
I watch Rose as she carries her tray back to the kitchen. It appears to be the end of her shift as she busies herself cleaning up the tables.
Why does she work when she doesn’t have to? I think it’s admirable.
I rub at the leather wrapped around my steering wheel. She isn’t like any girl I’ve ever met before. She has this way of looking at me like she can see every detail of my insides, as if she knows exactly what I’m thinking.
My phone rings—Sebastian. He’s called me three times already today from his apartment in New York, once to tell me the news, and then two more times to update me as the views on the video kept rising.
“Dude!” he yells into my ear as I answer it. “Are you watching the views?”
“Yeah, it’s sweet.”
He laughs. “It’s insane. And . . . get this . . . one of the music producers we were interested in called me today. He saw the video and wants to meet with us in LA.”
That’s huge. It’s the cherry on top of the video.
“I’m ready to get to LA and just get going, you know? Find an apartment and a studio. We need so much shit!”
I grin at his exuberance.
He continues, giving me updates about the other band members. “Rocco and I are flying out to LA this weekend to look for a place to live. When’s the soonest you can get there? We need to start working on the new songs for the album.”
I just got here; I’m not ready to leave.
Which is funny, because normally I can’t wait to get out of Dallas.
“I made this deal with my father that I’d stick around for a while. He’s going to give us some startup money. You think you can wait?”
He sighs. “I don’t know, man. We need to jump on this while it’s hot. With this video thing going viral, Mila’s already working on setting up some interviews with some shows, maybe even Kimmel. It would be nice if you were there already if we get the call.”
I rub my forehead. Mila is our PR girl who mostly works for peanuts and the chance to hang out with us. We attended prep school together and since she’s a trust fund girl, she has the time and money to do our promo. We’re her pet project, and admittedly, she’s done a fantastic job. She set up our merchandise on the website, organized the music video, and even scheduled tour stops. She’s irreplaceable, and free—can’t forget that. She currently lives in Dallas but wants to move to LA to be near us. I should probably go see her or call her, but I haven’t yet. She has a crush on me and I don’t want to encourage it.
I sigh. “My father got married, mate, and there’s this girl . . .” My fingers toy with the steering wheel again. “She’s different.”
Different is an understatement, and I’m intensely aware of her, from every shift of her shoulders to the pulse in her neck.
I thought she was simply pretty.
She is fucking luminous.
And the best thing I can do is avoid her.
“Dude, there are beautiful girls for days in LA.” His voice is light but I sense the unease. I’ve let him down before when I’m using . . . getting in fights or showing up to practice trashed.
I’m distracted as I watch Rose pick up her jacket from the coat rack and slip it on.
“Spider? You there?” Sebastian asks.
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll work on it and let you know.”
Tension crackles through the phone as his voice deepens. “I need you, man. We’ve spent five years on the road and it’s starting to pay off. Don’t let us down.”
Rose exits the diner, gets in her car and pulls out of the parking lot.
“Got to go, bro. I’ll call you later.”
“Wait—” I hear him say, but I already ended the call.
I crank up and follow her taillights.
Rose
AFTER PARKING, I REACH THE sidewalk that leads up to the entrance of my dorm, cursing under my breath that the streetlight on this side of my building is out. Considering how much the tuition is—thirty thousand a year, including boarding—you’d think maintenance would do a better job. On top of that, clouds obscure the quarter moon, leaving me with almost no light. I should have brought a flashlight.
I cross the darkness quickly, eager to get to my room and hop in the shower. I get within five feet of the door close to the parking lot before I realize it’s past ten, which means the side entrance will be locked and I’ll have to skirt around and go in through the main lobby. Ugh.
I flip back around, taking the long sidewalk that winds through pretty landscaping and trees. Anxious to get to a well-lit area, I fiddle with my backpack and dig around for my keys.
A rustling sound comes from behind me.
Without pausing, my eyes scour the parking lot to my left and the darkened landscaping to my right. Nothing moves, but my pulse kicks up a beat.
You’re fine, I tell myself. Besides being one of the richest neighborhoods in the world, Highland Park is also one of the safest.
With a bit more pep in my step, I focus on getting to the front door.
Another sound reaches my ears, this time a scuffling sound that stops when I do. I look over my shoulder, tingles making my scalp prickle.
Someone is out there.
Watching me.
Following me.
“Who’s there?” I call, peering into the blackness.
Silence.
“I have Mace,” I say. “And I’m not afraid to use it.”
My hands grow clammy. I’m only about fifty yards from the main entrance. I could drop my backpack and make a dash— “Don’t freak out. It’s just me, babe.” I hear a chuckle and then Garrett emerges from behind a small shrub. Wearing a black beanie, he sticks his hands in his pockets and strikes a nonchalant pose, yet his steps are steady and purposeful. “I thought this was where you lived. My dorm’s right next to yours. I actually saw you parking in the lot and thought I’d say hello.”
Hello? Yeah, okay.
I take a step backward, my brow wrinkling. “It’s late. What do you want?”
He shrugs, easing in closer and stopping about five steps from me. Over six feet tall with bulky muscles, he’s intimidating.
“Nothing much. Just want to talk.”
My stomach goes cold.