I sit at the counter, which has two little stools pulled up to it. Killer plunks the drink beside me and sits on the other stool, once again way too close. But he’s still smiling, not at all put off by the fact that I haven’t replied to a word he’s said in like two minutes.
“Here,” he says, shoving the drink toward me. “It’s lemon-lime. No caffeine, so it’s good for dehydration.”
I take a long gulp of it and find out a moment too late that it’s carbonated. I start coughing the moment I pull the cup away, but can’t stop myself from taking another gulp. After I’ve chugged half the glass, I realize that Killer is staring at me, his eyebrows raised in amusement.
“Sorry,” I mumble.
He laughs a little and says, “So much for Jace taking care of you, hmm? Eight hours in, and you’re already dying of thirst and pale as a ghost.”
I blush as I look down at my arm, finding he’s right. My skin is still totally white. It’s going to take more than a few sips of energy drink to make up for my dehydration and lack of food.
“Sooo.” He props his head up in his palm, leaning his elbow against the counter. “How’s your road trip been so far?”
“Um, good?”
“You don’t sound very sure of that.”
I bite my lip as I struggle to think of a way to deflect this conversation, but Killer just shakes his head.
“Don’t worry, sweetie,” he says. “Jace can be a jerk, but he’s not the type to back out of promises. If he says he’ll help you stay safe, he means it.”
His smile is soft and a little pitying, which probably means Jace told him more about my situation than I would have liked. Although I imagine it couldn’t be helped. Jace told me he doesn’t keep lies from his bandmates, and I doubt they would have been okay with me being here with zero explanation.
“Thanks,” I murmur hesitantly.
Killer winks and quickly moves the conversation along. “You got a phone?”
“Not with me. Why?”
He rolls his eyes, but in a playful way, not a mean one. “Why do you think? I want your number.”
“Oh.”
He stares at me for a long second, his face crumpling into a puzzled expression. Then he throws his head back and laughs.
“What?” I demand.
Killer just keeps chuckling. “You just gave me the least enthusiastic response I’ve ever gotten from asking for a girl’s number.”
His hand flies toward me, and I nearly topple off the stool trying to dodge it. But he just lazily tosses his arm over my shoulder and pulls me into an awkward hug. Killer considers me for a moment, then reaches into his pocket with his free hand and pulls out his own phone. Popping up a blank text, he quickly types a message and tilts the screen so I can see it:
You have nothing to be sorry for. It’s refreshing to not have a girl freak out when I ask for her number.
“Oh.” I cringe, realizing I’ve just given another lame answer, and try to slip out from under his arm. Thankfully, he lets me.
Killer cocks his head, his smile fading as his gaze locks on my bruised cheek. He types a little more on the phone and then shows it to me again. You’re not exactly the huggable type?
“Um, not really.”
He shrugs and pulls his arm back toward his side and away from my personal space. That’s OK, he types, keeping the screen tilted so I can see. His fingers glide across the screen impossibly fast as he adds, I think I’m starting to understand why Jace likes you so much.
Likes me? Yeah, right. He pities me, sure, but that’s a far cry from liking me. But I keep all that to myself and say, “What do you mean?”
Jace isn’t into hugs either.
I frown, trying to come up with an appropriate response other than “bullshit.”
Killer catches my skeptical look and types, You mean Jace actually tried to hug you?
“Well, um, yeah. Um, he did.” I wince at how stupid I sound. I’m seventeen; I should know how to talk properly by now. But it’s like my brain doesn’t realize that and is determined to make me sound like an idiot.
Killer’s eyes grow wide and he leans forward a little, staring right at me. He must be looking for some hint that I’m joking, and when he doesn’t find one, he slowly pulls back and frowns. “Wow,” he says, and I’m not sure if he means for me to read his lips or not. “That’s a first.”
I blush, not sure how to reply. A first? Definitely not. There’s no way I’m Jace’s first anything.
He really likes you, Killer types.
I look down at the counter, pretending to study the granite. “I don’t think so.”
Killer nudges at my side until I look back at his phone. No. Jace likes you. I’m sure of it.
“Okay . . . thanks?”
Killer quickly changes the subject again. So you don’t have a cell phone?
“No, I had to leave it.” I don’t elaborate on why: because my dad will never just let me go, because he could use it to track me, because I can never, ever let him find me.