I glared at him, then scribbled down his order.

A Reuben with potato salad.

I ripped the ticket from the book and handed it to Tori when we got behind the bar.

She laughed at my chicken scratch handwriting, mumbled something about praying Jamie was allergic to eggs, then slid the paper across the steel lip of the window to Stitch, requesting with a mischief in her eyes, “Loser Special, Stitch sweetie, on the Reuben.”

He jerked his chin and kept on cutting up onions.

I leaned closer to her.

“What’s a Loser Special?”

“Drop the meat on the floor and let it sit there for five seconds.”

I straightened in shock.

“He does that?” I whispered harshly, looking through the window at Stitch and thinking that, yes, he did look like someone who wouldn’t care if he dropped meat on the floor and served it to a loser, especially a loser who deserved it, and further thinking he looked like someone who could lay a motherfucker out if they looked at him wrong.

The guy was straight-up edge.

I cut my eyes away before he saw me staring.

Tori smiled. That was the only answer she gave me.

Kali walked up then and joined the two of us behind the bar, coming from the employee lounge next to Nate’s office.

Shay was waiting on a table and no longer hanging around Stitch’s window.

“I feel so much better,” Kali exclaimed on a rushed breath, her hands pressing her boobs through the white polo shirt we wore as uniforms. “I thought I was going to start leaking all over the place.”

“Did you talk to Cam?” Tori asked.

Kali’s face lit up, her brown eyes sparkling like Christmas lights.

It was beautiful to watch.

“He loves FaceTiming me,” she said to me more than Tori. “He just licks the screen and babbles nonsense. It’s the cutest thing ever.”

My phone vibrated in my back pocket.

I slipped it out, replying, “I can’t wait to meet him,” and saying it sincerely.

“I’ll bring him in when I’m off so you can see all his sweetness. And we should all totally hang out one night! I can get my parents to watch him if I give them notice.”

“Hell yeah. Girls’ night,” Tori commented.

“Absolutely,” I answered, head down.

“Is it Marcus?”

I kept the screen close to my body, shielded from prying eyes, and shook my head in response to Tori’s question while my insides tingled with a strange energy.

“My mom,” I lied, then winced because I lied, but I didn’t know if I could tell Tori who was really texting me, or if I should.

We didn’t keep secrets, but I was getting butterflies from a boy who wasn’t my husband.

What would she think of me?

“They have phones on the Ark?” Tori joked, touching my arm when I giggled and moving past me. “We have another table. I’ll get them started while you converse with Mary Magdalene.”

I nodded and stepped back until my hip touched the counter. My thumb slid across the screen.

Wild Thing. Good first day?

I looked up and saw Tori engrossed in waitress duties at Table 4, squinted, then realized she was smiling and nodding at Table 13, all while she held a hand behind her back and flipped Jamie the bird.

He found it amusing, a giant grin plastered on his face.

I laughed while I replied, but the smile lighting me up was because Brian remembered it was my first day.

Did Marcus ever wish me a good first day? I couldn’t remember.

So far so good, Trouble. What’s shaking with you?

My head at that old as shit phrase.

What? What’s shaking isn’t an old as shit phrase. Badass redheads use it all the time.

Think you might be the only one, babe.

Think you’re wrong, BABE.

You being cute?

Maybe.

Like that. Keep it up.

Giggling and feeling half my age, I glanced up at the sound of my name and saw Tori waving me over.

Gotta go. Tables to wait.

Me too. Meeting friends for lunch.

Later.

Later, Wild.

I tucked my phone away and joined Tori at Table 13, took their orders correctly—there weren’t any losers at that table—ripped the ticket off and gave it to Stitch myself, then helped her with drinks, carrying two glasses while she juggled three.

“Fuck,” I heard mumbled behind us while distributing the beverages.

I straightened and turned my head.

Jamie pushed up from the booth, his eyes heavy on his phone.

“Dash got a call. We gotta get back,” he directed at A, who immediately slid across the bench and took a final sip of his Sprite.

“Shit,” he muttered. “That sucks.”

“Yo, Legs. We need to get this to go.” Jamie cut his eyes to Tori and pulled out his wallet. He tipped his chin. “Wrap it up, babe.”

Babe.

I immediately thought of Brian, pulling in breath through my nose as the phone in my pocket seemed to triple in weight.

“Whatever,” Tori mumbled before she took off across the room.

I remained in place, watching Jamie toss two fifties on the table and Exhibit A a ten and a twenty, which was insanity.

No freaking way did the meal they were taking with them cost more than thirty dollars.

I raised my hand to bring to attention the monumental overtipping when Tori came rushing back over, bag in hand, which she wasted no time thrusting at Jamie’s chest.

“There. Enjoy your Reuben.”