The Girl I Was Before (Falling #3)(15)

“Hey, chill out. He gets time for dinner. That’s sort of a law, and we’re not technically on the clock yet. He’s got you covered,” I say, totally making up that bit about the law. It sounded good, and I get the feeling Carson isn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, so I took a gamble saying it.

“Hey…I know you!” Great. I glance down at Casey, who looks up at me with a full mouth and chuckles, his shoulders shaking. I let my eyes roll up and wait for it. “You’re that grocery-store dude. Yeah…hey, you make, like, the best f*ckin’ sandwiches, yo!”

“WOW,” I mouth to Casey, my back still to Carson. I’m not sure how you respond to this. Are people really friends with this *? Does Paige actually kiss him? Not that I really care who Paige kisses, but she’s pretty, and he’s so…

“Yep, sandwich dude. In the flesh.” I shake his hand and regret every second of this conversation. I regret it more when I see Paige walk in behind him, her eyes zeroing in on our hands. I’m shaking this *’s hand—the guy I told her she was better than. I look like such a jerk.

I pull my hand away and look back to Casey. “I’ll get everything ready to go; you about done?”

Casey’s being obstinate on purpose, chewing slower, taking his time, adding things like salt and pepper to the last few bites of his dinner. He’s doing it mostly because Carson was trying to bully him. But now he’s taking it out on me. I kick his foot out, and his sandwich falls from his lap. He catches it, but barely before it hits the floor.

“What the f*ck?” he yells, breadcrumbs spilling from his stuffed mouth.

“Sorry, man. Not in the mood for a scene tonight. I want to get this going and get home,” I say. I don’t do late nights, because I do early mornings. We’re not getting out of here until two in the morning, and I’ve been toying with the idea of just staying up all night. My shift begins at seven.

Casey wads up his food wrapper and tosses it in an empty box near the stage. “All right, let’s get this shit started then,” he says, pulling the headphones from his console and moving a few of his settings until that devilish smile spreads over his face slowly. He’s always loved music, but when he started collecting things for mixing—making his own tracks—he got really obsessed with it. I actually love watching him work. I help sometimes, when he needs to borrow my computer. He doesn’t really need me, but I think he feels bad using my stuff without paying me for it. I really don’t do much, but I need the money, so I take it.

His blend of pop and techno starts to take over the joint, and eventually, my pool buddies are the last of the afternoon and early evening crowd to leave, the rest of the bar filled with college kids looking to hook up and let off steam before finals week kicks in.

Sometimes it gets to me that I miss out on this stuff. But I can’t leave my mom with everything; that wouldn’t be right. And really, what am I truly missing out on? I think this just as two girls start to grind with one another—practically making out while they dance in the center of the floor, the spotlights helping to accent the right see-through places on their shirts. Yeah…this is what I’m missing out on.

“Every job has its perks,” Casey says, slinging his arm over my shoulder, his headphones resting around his neck.

“So, is this your thing?” Her voice does something to my chest, kind of like a sucker punch. I feel like I’ve been caught, but I’m not sure what I’ve been caught doing. No, that’s a lie—I’ve been caught ogling two chicks touch each other in a way that I didn’t think was real until right this moment. I’m not sure why I feel all sweaty and panicked over it.

“Hmmmm?” I ask, pretending I didn’t hear Paige behind me. I keep my eyes on the prize, Casey still looking at the scene with me. But all I’m doing is blinking, wondering why she came to talk to me, wondering why I care…and maybe wondering a little bit if her f*ck-hole boyfriend is watching, waiting to start crap again.

“You crash parties to get your fill of girl-on-girl action. That’s your…thing?” she says, leaving her eyes on me, her lips tight. I don’t even have to look down to know she’s crossing her arms.

“Well, I didn’t crash. I’m working,” I say, nodding to Casey next to me, who offers a small wave with his fingers before turning his attention back to the girls on the floor. “But to be honest with you, yes. This is very much my thing.”

I’m so satisfied with my response, and I kind of love the fact that I’ve left her speechless. She’s siting next to me, maybe a full body-width from me, but I can feel her looking at me. I want to see her reaction, but I also don’t like the fact that I care about her reaction. She may have helped me get a B on my Spanish exam, but every time I try to be nice to this girl, to help her, she steps all over me. I’m kind of sick of it.

“Typical,” she says, after I spend several long seconds under her heated stare. She pushes off, and when I know it’s safe, I turn to look at her walk away, and well…shit. She’s wearing this red dress that hugs her body so well, I regret wasting all of my ogling energy on the two girls on the floor. Now all I want to know is what the front of that dress looks like—and if her body moves in the front the same way it does from behind.

“Who was that chick?” Casey asks, elbow at my rib.