You and Everything After (Falling #2)(5)
“You’re, like, predictable sexy,” the tall one says, and I hear a bubble snap from her gum. “I’m like ninja sexy.”
I can’t help but smirk at what she says. This chick’s funny. And I’d have to say, that might just give her the edge on sexy. I keep my gaze forward, pretending to look at something on my phone screen on the table, but I notice the pair of them slide into a booth across the room.
“What’ll you have today, Ty?” Cal says, pulling the pencil from behind his ear to write down our order. I don’t know why he bothers asking. Four weeks we’ve been coming here, and I’m pretty sure we’ve ordered the same thing every time.
“Cheeseburgers,” I say, nodding to Nate, who’s now standing behind Cal and waiting to slide back to his seat.
“Oh, hey Nate,” Cal says, writing down our order, and putting the pen back in its spot somewhere within his disheveled of hair and the mesh Budweiser hat he wears every single day.
“I’m starved, man. Today’s practice was brutal. It’s just…so damned hot,” Nate says, pulling his own phone out and looking at the screen. I’m glad he’s only half paying attention to me, because my focus is dedicated to the booth about twenty feet away.
“Do you have any low-fat dressings? Like, at all?” the curvy blonde says, a strand of her hair wrapped around her finger when she asks.
“We have Italian,” says the older woman taking their order.
“Yeah, but is it just oil? That doesn’t mean low-fat. Is it fat-free or low-fat?” This chick is high-maintenance.
“It’s…Italian,” the waitress says. A small chuckle escapes my lips, and the other girl, the ninja, looks my way briefly. I don’t know why, but my heart kicks a little at getting caught.
“She’ll have the Italian. Just put it on the side,” the ninja princess says, and the waitress walks away.
“Good thinking. It’s low-fat if you put it on the side,” the diva says. My ninja princess just stares at her, watching her pull out a mirror and check her lipstick; then she flips her gaze to me. This time, I don’t panic; instead, I just lift the right side of my lip in a tiny grin to let her know I’m with her—hell, I’m so with her. She shakes her head at me in disbelief, and then returns her gaze back to her friend.
“Putting the dressing in a different bowl doesn’t change its chemistry, Paige,” she says, and I smirk again.
“What’s so funny, dude?” Nate interrupts, but I shake my head and hold my hand up against the table.
“Hang on, I have to hear this out,” I whisper; he bunches his brow before turning to look at the two girls behind him who have me completely rapt.
“Then why the hell did you make me get it on the side, Cass?” she asks, and I commit that name to memory the second it leaves her lips.
“So you could use less,” Cass huffs back.
“That’s stupid,” Paige says.
“Yes, I see that now,” Cass says, stepping out from their booth to head to the restroom area. She gives me one last smile before she leaves, and I hold up my empty beer glass to toast her—the sexy ninja princess, with the patience of gold, and the next girl I want to get to know in Oklahoma.
Chapter 2
Cass
“Is it bad that I’m excited? I shouldn’t be so excited. I should play it cool. Right, cool…phew…deep breath, and ready. Okay, I’m being cool. How’s this?” Paige only rolls her eyes and picks up her stride. “What? Not cool? It’s the shoes, isn’t it? Or my shorts? I should have worn a dress, or something cuter. I’m so bad at this.”
“Jesus Christ, Cass! You look fine. You’re cute. Boys are going to think you’re cute. Just like they did back home. If you’re going to get like this every time we go to a party, I’m going to start going without you,” Paige fires back her short fuse with me, and my nerves kick in quickly.
“You’re right,” I say, blowing out a huge breath into the few strands of my hair that have found their way in front of my face. “I wish Rowe would have come with us.” Rowe’s our roommate. We have one of the big rooms at the end of the hall, which means there are three of us in a room, and Rowe seemed pretty cool. I liked her music, and she seemed like she was hungry for friends outside of her tiny circle—just like me.
“Ugh. I don’t. I don’t know about that chick. She’s…quiet,” my sister says, punctuating that last word like there’s something wrong with being quiet. I’m quiet. Or at least, I was. But I left that all behind in high school. Here, no one knew my history. No one knew about my bad choices for boyfriends—and the reputation that only took months to create and a thousand miles to run away from. Here, I was going to be loud, and confident, and important, and someone’s girlfriend. And I would settle for nothing less.
“You’re just being a bitch. She’s nice,” I say, feeling defensive of my barely eight-hour-old friend.
“Probably. But I still don’t like her,” Paige says, making those annoying last touches on her hair she always makes before she knows we’re about to enter a room full of strangers. I should probably do the same thing, tuck hair behind an ear, or make sure my lips are pink or shiny or kissable or, I don’t know. Paige did my makeup. That’s her thing—hair, fashion…exteriors. Me, I’m more of the crack-open-the-beer, chug-faster-than-the-guys, and then kick-their-asses-in-something kinda girl. I brush my fingers through my hair anyway though, because change is good.