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  Riley didn't look like he was moving and I was stuck on the inside of him. It would bother me more if I actually felt like moving, but I didn't. My knees felt weak and I was still a bit shaky. Shouldn't this pass by now?

  "You're a mess, princess."

  "Gee, thanks." It was true; I was a mess and had been even before the junkie sticking a knife in my face.

  Julian was clearing the registers out. "Turn out the lights when you leave," he said. He wasn't kicking us out. He stopped and stared at us for a while, Ella standing close by. It was like he wanted to say something, but his gaze turned to Riley, who made a salute gesture.

  We heard them leave out the back and then we were alone. "Not thinking of leaving yourself?" I said, suddenly feeling intense awkwardness.

  "And leave you amping all on your own?"

  "I'm not amping."

  "Like hell you're not. Look at you. Your eyes are as big as saucers."

  Gritting my teeth, I dreaded to think what I looked like, no doubt some anxiety sheen of sweat covering my face. I felt sticky; I probably smelled.

  "Until you calm down, you probably shouldn't go anywhere," he said.

  "I'm fine. I just need to take a moment and get this tension out of my system and then I'll be fine."

  "We could fuck."

  "What?!"

  "I reckon no one needs a big, quaking release as badly as you do right now."

  I stared at him and then shoved him hard, which made him laugh. Right, he was teasing me and for a moment I'd fallen for it. Probably wouldn't have reacted as badly if there wasn't part of me that was tempted—by the big, quaking release, that was, but no, it was Riley, which made anything remotely close to that too complex to even consider.

  Then it grew completely awkward.

  "I can drive you home if you want," he said after a while.

  "No, I'm fine. I am perfectly able to drive." I didn't want to owe him anything. It was weird enough us just hanging out like this.

  I didn't want to but I should make a move. It felt kind of ironic that Riley was the one here, making sure I was alright. I'm not quite sure what had passed between Julian and Riley a moment ago, but it felt like something had, some guy thing we tended to not understand. And I was too tired to even consider such stuff.

  "Should perhaps go," I said, waiting for him to move, which he finally did. The weekend beckoned and I was more than ready to put this place behind me for a while. I was exhausted. The adrenaline was starting to dissipate a little and tiredness was creeping in. Still, not sure I'd sleep much that night. Having someone to hang with would be really cool, but Riley was the only option, so not really an option, was it?

  We walked out the back. It was strange seeing the restaurant empty. "Guess Julian trusts us to close up."

  "What are we going to do, steal ten pound of hamburger meat?" Riley said. "The last thing anyone who works here wants is more burger smell when they get home."

  I sighed, too tired to think about it and too weary to argue with him.

  The parking lot was empty except for our cars.

  My keys dropped out of my fingers, crashing to the ground and I sighed. Bending over to pick them up seemed such a mission. I stared at them for a moment.

  "Come here," Riley said and pulled on my shoulder with his hand.

  He was pulling me into his arms. "No," I protested, not wanting a hug from the most awkward guy I knew. His arms enveloped me and I my head was eye level with his shoulder. He was warm and solid. And actually, I really needed a hug. Finally, I relented and accepted it, exhaling a shuddering sigh as I placed by head on his shoulder and let myself feel his warm, firm body next to mine. It was nice to feel someone there. "Why are you being nice to me?"

  "Even I can tell what a totally shit week you've had."

  He wasn't letting go, and he probably should because we were like mortal enemies. Eventually, he let go. I regretted it, but also felt relief.

  "And that happened and my balls are still intact," he said, walking away to his car.

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "For once your prickles and razor-sharp edges didn't come out."

  What? That was bullshit. "We had sex, remember, and—"

  "While you were out of your mind on drugs."

  "As were you, but the point is, we probably could have had again if you hadn't been such a complete asshole after. Then again, you were an asshole before, so what happened with the whole, ugh, thing, well that was more on me, I guess."

  "Oh, strike that, they're back."

  I crossed my arms, glaring at him where he stood on the other side of his car. "Do you take no responsibility for your own actions?" The recent hug just seemed a completely outlandish thing now. How in the world had that happen, considering where we were now?

  "Good night, Pepper. I was a bit worried about you for a minute, but I see now that you're fine." He grinned, opening his car door and getting in. "Have a good weekend, brewing potions of whatever it is you do."

  "Dick!"

  He blew me a fucking kiss as he started his car. I wasn't the one who was unreasonable, and I refused to accept that. Okay, maybe I told him to fuck off the first time I'd met him and on pretty much every occasion since, but he'd deserved it—every time. How could a guy be so utterly lacking in self-awareness? Then again, he was a guy and they weren't exactly known for it for the most part—but no one was as big an ass-hat as Riley was.

  Cursing him, I got in my car. I just needed to get home and forget everything about this place.

  * * *

  Chapter 31:

  * * *

  I wasn't ready for another week, but apparently it was ready for me because it came around so quickly I didn't even get much of a chance to breathe. Actually the weekend had been okay. Mom hadn't been working for once so we'd hung, even gone to the mall and wandered around. But now I was back, staring at the keypad of the back door, dreading walking inside. Granted, it wasn't the worst moment of anxious dread I'd had, but I still didn't want to go in. There was the Julian thing, then the Riley thing—the frickin customers. If I was allowed to cut one of those things out of my life, I'm not quite sure which would it would be. They were all extremely unpleasant in slightly different ways.

  There was no point dwelling, so I got over myself and punched in the code. The place was busy as per usual. The boys were there, Riley smiled in that 'I have a secret and it's going to hurt you' way. Oh yes, I wanted to punch him, so maybe everything was right in the world.

  I could see Matilda standing by her register. So she'd survived her encounter with law enforcement. I paused for a moment, searching my feelings on it. Yes, she was a pain in the ass, but she didn't deserve what was threatening her. I guess, I was glad she was back.

  My register stood waiting for me and I unlocked it. Mia hadn't arrived yet and I couldn't see Ella either. For once I wasn't the last person to work. Another tiny and insignificant bonus.

  Matilda turned to me, staring at me with those expressionless eyes. I just loved it when she showed her true nature. She was right that the fake plastered smile was so much better.

  I nodded my head up in greeting. You never really knew what would you get with her, but obviously something was on her mind.

  "Thank you for telling the police the things you did," she finally said. That was the first time I had heard her say thank you for anything outside the required, scripted customer interactions. So she was aware what I had done for her—lied for her.

  "You're welcome," was all I could think of saying. I guess I had had her back, even when it had been a risk to myself. I was glad she had acknowledged it. I don't know what it meant to her, if anything, but she'd said thank you, so it must have meant something.

  A customer placed a used tray in front of me and I smiled, because we loved it when people did that, circumvent the proper processes and putting messes on the counter. It was such a good look. I grabbed the tray and took it to the cleaning station out back.

&n
bsp; Riley stood in my way with an exaggerated hurt expression on his face. "I saw that little interaction with Matilda. I think it was a real breakthrough. You must be so proud; she's making real steps to becoming a proper person." He held his arms out as if we would hug. Yeah, no, but he chose to ignore my body language and stepped closer.

  "Are we doing this forced hug thing again?" I said, not really able to get out of it. He had me cornered. "Why?"

  "Hugging is important. And you deserve one for being such a nurturing person. Keep this up and maybe one day you'll get a hug out of Matilda. For now, well, it just turns me on."

  "Ugh," I said and shoved him away. He smiled now, like he knew he'd managed to piss me off. And yes, I wanted to tell him yet again what a dick he was, but it would only please him, proving whatever twisted point he was trying to make.

  Grumbling under my breath, I went back to my register. It might be my imagination, but I swore the hate emanating from Matilda was a little less. She looked the same, but it felt a little different. Maybe when she murdered everyone, she would let me live. Well, there's that, I guess.

  *

  When the rush died down, I could take a breather. I was thirsty and needed water.

  "Hey, everyone. Riley's bought a new car," Wyatt said. "Come check it out."

  This I had to see. Riley didn't seem to spend money on anything, well, other than alcohol. Had he gotten over his perpetual tightness and bought a car?

  I followed Ella out and Wyatt stood there against an old, huge, black thing on wheels. What the hell?

  "Meet the 1975 Impala. The height of impractical American motoring. It's awesome. Does this thing take corners, Riley?"

  "Not really."

  It was massive. It practically didn't fit in the parking lot.

  "It does about a gallon a mile, but I love it," Riley said. "And I can camp in it, if I want."

  I looked inside. It was definitely a relic of a bygone era. The seats inside were leather. It was surprisingly neat, black everything with chrome. It had real chrome bumpers and shiny mags. Stick. I didn't even know how to drive a stick. Against my own judgement, I was kind of impressed that Riley could.

  "It's cool," Ella said. "And very you now that I see it."

  It did beat the gray Honda he'd been driving, probably not for fuel efficiency, but this car did reflect him—big, nasty, unapologetic. I chuckled. "It really does suit you."

  "It has zero safety features, but it's a tank. Nothing will put a scratch in this baby," Riley said with a proud smile. He loved this car. He stood with his arms crossed and his legs apart. This was style in Riley's book. I guess I got it. Not everyone would want a car like this, a reflection of the past, but Riley did.

  "This is for cruising for chicks," Wyatt said, clearly excited. His bro love was definitely on a high. Ella rolled her eyes.

  I could imagine Riley and Wyatt cruising around town in this car, thinking they were hot shit, having a good time, even going on an old-fashioned road trip. The thought made me laugh. Not everyone would agree, particularly the guys who cruised around in their brand new Japanese sleek cars with neon lights shining down on the ground. It would probably be incomprehensible to those guys, but Riley didn't care. This was his version of cool.

  Brian was there, which shocked me. Where had he come from? "Awesome," he said, making a gesture with his hands, forefinger and pinky pointing. What the hell was that? "Can I borrow it?"

  "If I gave it to you, I'd never get it back."

  "Can I buy it off you?"

  "Get your own."

  "Brian's in a death metal band," Ella said and my eyebrows rose. He looked so clean cut in his uniform. I'd never seen him in anything but—in fact, I rarely saw him at all and had barely ever spoken to him, but the boys seemed to know him better.

  "Where the hell is he most of the time?" How could it be that he worked here and I never saw him? Yes, he worked out the back and I the front, but I saw everyone else.

  "He goes to the warehouse a lot."

  "Oh," I said, feeling stupid. It all made sense now.

  And apparently Brian loved the car too. The boys all did, even if it was a throwback. I smiled and I noticed Riley looking at me for a moment before looking away. Did he care what I thought about his car? Why would Riley care what I thought? He certainly didn't go out of his way to make a good impression with me—the opposite to be exact. And then his new habit of impromptu hugging, what was that about? Obviously, it bothered me, which was probably why he did it. There was nothing more; I was reading into things that weren't there.

  The back door slammed open behind us. "Am I running this damned restaurant by myself now?" Deseree yelled. "Get your asses back in here. This isn't some damn tailgate party; get back to work."

  For a moment I wondered what Deseree would be like as a boss. She had the makings for it. It might not be Matilda Julian had to watch out for. We all headed back in.

  Speaking of, Julian called to me from his office. "Are you alright?" he said when I walked over to his office.

  "Yeah," I said.

  He looked at me with concern, and I felt he didn't have the right to. He was still my boss, but now I felt his caring was an imposition. His clear eyes considered me. It was still such a shame it hadn't worked out. Now I kind of didn't want to deal with him at all. I smiled tightly and indicated that I should head back to my register. This thing had ruined whatever friendship had been building. That was how it went, I guessed.

  Matilda had never left, probably unable to bring herself to care about someone else's car. Maybe she didn't read meaning into the kinds of cars people bought, or maybe she couldn't be bothered reading into people who didn't mean anything to her.

  This car said a lot about Riley. I didn't exactly know what, but a bigger issue seemed to be that he cared what I thought. I must have misunderstood that. From the moment I'd gotten here, Riley had been in my face—acerbic, confrontational, picking on me every moment he could. What the hell was he doing?

  * * *

  Chapter 32:

  * * *

  The sun shone through my window when I woke, my bedroom feeling stuffy from the heat outside. It was another cloudless day. Turning on my back, I listened, but the house was quiet. Mom must be at work.

  Sitting up, I sighed and grabbed my phone, checking through the social pages. I had connected with Ella and Wyatt, but had purposefully not connected with Riley, or Julian for that matter. Wyatt had posted a photo of him in Riley's new car, cruising exactly like I'd expected them to. Wyatt was laughing and Riley was looking at the road ahead, half smiling, looking relaxed in his cool dude car.

  I felt something, but couldn't identify what it was. Riley was just so awkward—angles, edges and occasional softness. I couldn't figure him out, even less what he thought about me. He resoundly disapproved of me, but then also cared what I thought. Was Riley into me, showing it in some absurd, twisted way only he could manage? Couldn’t be.

  The best thing to do was not to think about it. Some might say that was cowardly, but I don't need to analyze this to death. This was Riley's deal, not mine. I didn't owe this deep thought. The fact that I didn't want to think about it was purely coincidental.

  I walked into the lounge in my tank top and shorts, sitting down on the couch and turning on the TV. It was hot and stuffy in here too, so I opened the door to let the barely there breeze in. A package from the university sat on the coffee table. Mom must have put it there. Unease filled me again. I suspected it would be asking me for a commitment, to pick my classes.

  I poked the brown envelope slightly with my foot. It was heavy, containing lots of material. There was no point addressing this, facing my uncertainty, on an empty stomach, so I got a small tub of ice cream out of the fridge. If my mom was home, she'd be ripping into me right now, but I needed the sugary goodness as a bribe to do what should clearly be exciting, but wasn’t.

  Some random reality show was on TV, but I couldn't pay attention other than when a really
hot guy came along. They were at some beach location in a foreign country and the guys were all running around with their shirts off—something I really appreciated at the moment.

  After the tub was empty, I had no excuse and tugged the flap of the envelope open, the glue reluctantly giving. There was a whole booklet of classes, each with a description and a list of prerequisites. The cover had a photo of manically excited students. Wouldn't it be easier and cheaper to send out a smaller booklet with only the classes that had no prerequisites to people like me? This seemed like a rabbit warren, abstract prerequisites for just about every class listed.

  Okay, here was one I could do—Development of Scientific Theory. Hell no. Sociology 101, maybe. I flipped through the booklet, getting nothing to tell me what classes I was supposed to take. I knew there were a bunch I had to take, or had I understood that wrong, but it didn't say anywhere which ones. I had an urge to put the booklet away, but I forced myself to keep going. After search for ages, I found the lists, but they differed depending on what you were majoring in. At the moment, I was down for law because mom had convinced me it was a good idea. I could always change my mind, she'd said. I saw art history classes and thought of Julian. These were the classes he'd taken, and he had turned into a pretty cool person. There were strange classes like, Women's Roles in Contemporary Culture. A whole bunch of business classes. The law ones were incomprehensible, Comparable Corporate Governance, Intractable Economic Issues of Developing Nations. Huh? Although it would be kind of cool to be able to say you knew what all this stuff meant.

  Flipping through, I saw other stuff—History of Ancient and Medieval Philosophy, Creating Writing, even film and TV related courses. Could you imagine watching TV and getting graded for it? It sounded insane. There was just so much stuff it was overwhelming.

  I would be spending the next four years doing this and it would set up the rest of my life. I had to choose well. The rest of my life was determined by the decisions I made.