Kissing in Cars (Kiss and Make Up #1)(25)

From where I'm sitting I have a clear view of the entire area. On the opposite side of the cafeteria is a long bank of windows that someone has painted an advertisement for the upcoming football game and Fall Formal dance, and if you want my opinion whoever painted them did a shitty job; as in, my half blind cousin Stuart could have done a better job with if both his eyes were bad (oh, and by the way - in case you're at all interested - this year before Homecoming we're playing the Clarksville Panthers and... I'm pretty sure we'll get our asses kicked since all the "real" athletes play hockey).

Obviously there are also vending machines in the cafeteria, located right in the corner of the room... which just happens to be the place where Molly Wakefield, as I've recently discovered, eats her lunch.

Yeah, discovering that little tid-bit was exciting for me too.

I crack open a carton of cold chocolate milk and zero in on my target while I chug it.

Today, she's had her back to me the whole time, but I watch her just the same from under the rim of my cap like I did in the library the other day. I lean back and stretch, flexing my back as Molly's friend gestures wildly beside her. Her friends brightly colored tee shirt looks splattered with paint, and her long silver earrings catch the sun from outside with every shake of her head.

I rack my brain for the friends' name. Jane. No, wait. Jennifer. Janna? Whatever. It happens to be the same blonde chick that has a small seizure every time I walk by.

No lie.

Someone steps in the way and blocks my view so I have to crane my neck a little to the left. The voices beside me are gradually getting louder as they reenter my stream of consciousness.

"....no freaking way..."

"...Wes... date this weekend ..."

"...she is so full of shit...Tell him you don't have a date McGrath..."

"McGrath? Are you listening?"

Someone hits my arm. "Huh? What."

Rick and Derek exchange looks than Derek, who is also sitting across from me, swivels in his seat to survey the room. He even shields his eyes with his palm, like he's saluting the sea of students. What a wise-ass. "Okay, so who were you just checking out?"

"No one." The lie rolls off my tongue, and I crack open another carton of milk and guzzle it down, crushing the carton on the table with my palm when I'm done. No way in hell am I going to tell these douchebags I have a date with Molly Wakefield. The one highlight of my dismally social-life free senior year. I would never hear the end of it.

"Bullshit dude. You spaced out."

"That's because nothing you say interests me. In fact, I'm done here." I grab the edge of my tray before collecting my backpack, and rise from my seat at the same time Molly is rising from her table across the room.

I stand unmoving and watch her instead of walking away.

She's facing me, and our eyes connect. Finally, Molly gives me a small self-conscious wave, and if the Three Assholes of the Apocalypse weren't sitting in front of me, I'd probably wave back. Her long hair is in a braid that's cascading over her shoulder and she's wearing this cute pink dress

Man she's pretty.

My lips curl slightly into a small smile.

"Are you f*cking kidding me Weston? Molly Wakefield?" Rich picks up his tray and then instantly slams it back onto the table in a rage, sending a few fries scattering across its surface. "You *."

His pronouncement doesn't surprise me and quite honestly, I don't give a crap if he's upset. You're probably wondering if there's such a thing as "Guy Code" - the answer is yes - but in my opinion it doesn't apply in this case. Why? Well for starters:

1. Rick is my teammate, but he is not my friend. He's thrown me under the bus so many times I've lost count.

2. He once tried to sleep with my cousin, Tracy.

3. Lastly - Oh, that's right. I don't give a shit about his feelings.

I blow out a puff of air so I don't lose my temper, but to be honest I can already feel my nostrils flaring, a telltale sign that I'm about to. As calmly as I can, I set my backpack and tray down, and rest my palms against the edge of the table, leaning over so that my face is inches from Ricks. The brim of my hat almost touches his forehead.

I am aware of hundreds of watchful eyes boring into me.

"Is there a problem?" This voice does not sound like my own; this voice is low and menacing.

"Yeah, you're my goddamn problem." Rick's eyes dart over to where the lunch attendant is standing and he stays imbedded to his seat. But he's itching for a fight.

"Why is that," I probe.

"You know I asked her out." He says through gritted teeth, drawing his sentence slowly out. "You were standing right there."

I frown at him through narrowed eyes, leaning closer. "And what was her answer?"

Rick shrugs coolly but his demeanor is anything but. "She'll come around."

I laugh right then and I have to admit, even to my own ears it sounds slightly maniacal.

"Yeah? Well you...scare the shit out of her." I quietly snarl, suddenly realizing it as the awful truth. That day in the hallway when Rick was harassing Molly for a date, I should have shoved his punk ass up against my locker. She'd looked so scared. Shit, the more I remember it the more pissed off I become. "Do yourself a favor Rick," I spit out his name sarcastically. "Don't talk to her. Don't talk about her. Hell, don't even look at her. Because if you do, I will find out, and then I will beat the shit out of you." My triceps flex and my shoulders drawn taunt. "Do we have an understanding?"