Jesus Freaks: The Prodigal (Jesus Freaks #2)(63)

“He’s not my boyfriend,” I hiss. Sheepishly, I look up at Asher. “Once I finish their order, can I take my break?”

He snorts. “Yes. You can make your non-boyfriend a drink and then go talk to him.”

“I hate you,” I whisper-growl, begging my cheeks to stop burning.

Asher takes over putting the dishes away, not saying another word.

“Hey Jonah,” I say a bit more cheerfully than usual. An epic fail in trying to cover up my butterflies.

Jonah’s ever-pleasant face seems a bit grey. “Hey Kennedy.” His tone is just as cloudy.

“Usual?” I ask. He nods, and I speak to him over my shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing,” he tries to sound reassuring. “I’m just kind of stressed.”

“Amen to that,” I respond without a hint of snark.

With finals just over a week away, most of my friends are on edge. I, however, am happily living in denial that my entire first semester at CU is about to be put to the test, academically speaking.

“Oh yay,” I say, eyeing the PK table while handing Jonah his drink. “You guys have a lot of people tonight. Some girls, too.”

“Yeah,” he offers a weak smile, “are you coming over on your break?”

“Coming over? Like, with you guys?”

I’m struck speechless for a moment. While I’d intended on sneaking a side-conversation with Matt, I didn’t intend to chat it up with the group. And hadn’t considered that they even wanted me to.

Jonah cracks a weak smile. “Yeah, the group wants to invite you.”

I sigh. “Are there some bizarre university requirements for group involvement? I’m in zero groups, so … I don’t know how it all works.”

“This isn’t a CU group. It’s kind of … under the table.” Jonah looks down for a minute before casting a cautious glance my way.

I nod approvingly. “A black market PK group? What do they want with me?”

“Honesty.” Matt’s voice cuts through the conversation before I realize he’s come up behind Jonah.

Jonah nods toward Matt. “What he said.”

I stare at them, skeptical. “And you trust them? All of them?” Craning my neck, I’m uncomfortable with the fact that I don’t recognize more of them than I recognize.

Jonah nods, looking more tired by the minute. “I trust them.”

“I do, too,” Matt agrees. “And I don’t trust anyone.”

I scan the group once more and find the two girls staring back at me as skeptically as I’m sure I’m staring at them.

What the hell …

“I’ll be over in five, okay?”

My answer satisfies my two best guy-friends on campus, and they shuffle back to the table, bringing an extra chair into their group for me.

“Have fun,” Asher harasses from behind the coffee grinder.

Rolling my eyes, I pour myself a cup of coffee, toss my apron on the back counter, and slowly approach the group. Matt spots me, pats the open seat next to him, and I happily comply to being sandwiched between him and Jonah.

“Guys,” Matt starts, sounding quite serious, “this is Kennedy. Kennedy, this is John, Marla, and Caitlyn.”

John, the guy I saw the first time I laid eyes on Matt, still retains the cocky-sexy smile I think he’s always had. “Hey.” He extends his hand across the table, and I shake it.

I wave and smile politely to Marla and Caitlyn, then lean back in my chair. The three who I don’t know stare at me for a few seconds, causing me to feel the urge to speak.

“So,” I say, sitting forward, “you’re all PK’s, huh?” Silently, I continue to wonder why they want me here at all.

“Sort of,” Marla, with short, tight curly hair, speaks first. Caitlyn giggles at yet another joke I seem to have missed.

“You see,” John plants his elbows on the table and leans forward, “we’ve all got … interesting relationships with our … title.”

I shrug. “I’ve had the impression that all of you kind of hate it for one reason or another. I mean, there are like three CU-sponsored PK groups and you guys are in some rogue one. I’m assuming it’s not a gilded path to walk. What I don’t understand is why you want me here.”

“We like you,” Caitlyn adds. “And, from what most of us can tell, you have a dad most of us wish we had …” she trails off, likely sensing my displeasure with the conversation, which is pushing me away from the table to standing.

“Kennedy,” Matt touches my wrist for a split second—enough to get my attention—then puts it back in his lap.

Like Trent should have done.

I hold out my hands. “I’m not really in the mood to head up a Roland Fan Club, guys—”

“No,” Jonah cuts me off, “that’s not what she meant.”

The tired look in his eyes, mixed with the intensity of his voice, causes me to take my seat and pay attention.

“What, then?” I ask, taking a second to eye each member of the group.

Jonah continues. “We have this group because, yes, we all have issues with our upbringing, but like Matt told you before, you have kind of a clean slate. Something else each of us wishes we had.”