by Aly Martinez
“You two coming?” I barked for no particular reason other than it was what I did.
“Yep,” Ash said, skipping my way.
We all walked to the counter and placed our order.
“I’ll have the cheeseburger all the way with fries,” I told the cashier.
“Make that two,” Quarry added.
“Same for me. Oh, but add a small onion ring and a vanilla shake,” Ash said, stepping up to the counter and pulling a wallet out of her pocket.
“No. I’ve got this.” I wheeled myself forward and dug into the pocket of my hoodie for my wallet.
“No. It’s fine. I’ve got it.” She slid a twenty out and started to hand it to the cashier, but I tugged her arm down to her side.
“Look, I was an ass earlier. Just let me buy you a burger,” I said, patting my pockets down. “Shit,” I cursed when my search came up empty.
Where the hell did I leave my wallet?
“You don’t owe me anything. It’s no big deal.”
“Well, it’s a big deal to me. I hate judgmental assholes.”
“And buying me a burger will somehow mean you’re not one?”
“No.” I twisted my upper body to the side to see if, for some insane reason, I had shoved it in my back pocket when I’d rushed from the house. “But it will make me feel better. Please?” I asked.
Her bright eyes and wide smile melted away. She swallowed hard and glanced down at the floor—only to look back up with a shy smile.
“Okay,” she answered quietly. Holding my eyes, she lifted the twenty back up and passed it to the cashier.
Just as I began to object again, she extended her arm, offering me . . . my wallet?
“Uh . . .” I stumbled out, confused as I took it from her hand.
Quarry burst out laughing as the cashier gave her a few coins in change.
“Hey, Flint? What time is it?” Quarry asked.
Ash’s smile actually slipped completely. For the briefest of seconds, she appeared almost ashamed.
I dragged my eyes away from her in order to answer his question, but as I looked at my wrist, I had no answer at all.
“Here,” she said as she pulled my watch from her pocket.
What. The. Fuck?
Quarry howled with laughter, and Ash chewed on her bottom lip.
“Explain,” I demanded, wrapping my watch back around my wrist and shoving my wallet in the front pocket of my hoodie.
Quarry filled in the blank. “She’s a pickpocket, dude. You should have seen her when she fell on your lap. It was so fucking fast. She straight-up stole that shit from you, and you had no fucking clue.”
“I didn’t steal it! I was gonna give it back,” she amended uncomfortably. “It was just a joke.”
A joke.
A. Fucking. Joke.
And just like that, I remembered why I didn’t laugh anymore.
“Was it funny? Stealing from the cripple? You get a good laugh out of that?” I snapped, spinning and rolling myself away. “You know, maybe my judgment of you wasn’t all that off to begin with. Like father, like daughter, I guess.” It was a low blow, but I felt completely betrayed by a woman I didn’t even know.
“Flint, wait. I wasn’t picking on the cripple!”
I fully realized that I had just used the term, but it enraged me that she’d had the audacity to repeat it back to me. Who the hell was this chick? I pushed a hand into my pocket, searching for my keys. Fuck the food. I’d leave her ass there. Hell, Quarry too if he didn’t get his ass to the car.
“Get in the car, Q!” I yelled, only to close my eyes and drop my chin to my chest when my hand never made contact on the keys. “Son of a bitch,” I said as I spun back around.
Quarry was laughing next to her, but Ash’s cheeks were bright red.
“Keys.” I snapped my fingers and opened my hand, palm up.
“Stop being a dick,” Quarry said, casually tossing an arm around Ash’s shoulders.
She didn’t budge as she held my glare.
“Keys,” I repeated, but she remained still.
“It was a joke.” Her chin began to quiver.
For fuck’s sake, I wasn’t in any kind of mood to deal with bullshit from some girl I didn’t even know and was quickly discovering I didn’t care to know, either.
Quarry’s eyes grew wide as she turned to him and buried her cries in his chest.
What the fuck, asshole! Q signed before rubbing his hands over her back.
Her shoulders shook as she let out a loud sob that shocked us both.
“Come on. Let’s sit down.” Q tried to guide her over to an empty table.
Ash refused to look up and tripped over one of the chairs.
“Shit,” Q said, catching her around the waist.
I was just about to roll my eyes when she glanced my way. He was still trying to get her back on her feet and over to a table when her tear-free, bright-blue eyes pointedly glanced in my direction. My head snapped back in surprise, but a smile grew on her face.
Ash was about to put on a show, and with that one look, she had invited me to have a front-row seat.
As she floundered all over Quarry, her hands slid between his pockets and her own. Every noise she made and each time she flailed covered up a jarring movement. She was keeping his mind too busy for it to process all the places she was touching him. Hell, I was only watching her and I could barely keep up.
There was no denying that it was entertaining, but I wasn’t willing to show her that. However, as she accidentally lifted her knee, catching Q in the balls, a laugh erupted from my throat. He cupped his crotch while she apologized profusely and pushed him toward the same chair he’d been dragging her to only seconds before. Just before he sat, Ash swung her arm out, unwinding Q’s belt from around his body before tossing it at me.
“Oh God. I’m so sorry!” she said as Quarry held a finger up to ask for a second to recover. She didn’t wait at all though. Instead, she walked over in my direction; her prideful smile grew with every step.
She pulled my keys out of her pocket and dropped them into my lap. They were quickly followed by Quarry’s phone, wallet, and house keys. Then she snagged his belt off the floor and tossed it over her shoulder.
“It had absolutely nothing to do with you being in a wheelchair. It was a joke and it wasn’t supposed to piss you off.”
“Hey!” Quarry yells. “That was messed up. You did not have to knee me in the balls to prove a point to him.”
“Oh, that wasn’t to prove a point. That was for bullshitting me. You knew good and damn well that he wouldn’t find it funny,” she said without ever tearing her gaze from mine. “Look, I’m sorry. I don’t have a lot of friends. And I’ve mentally noted that pickpocketing might not be the best way to make new ones.” She shrugged. “Consider it a lesson learned.”
“Three burgers all the way, onion rings, and a shake?” the guy at the counter called out.
Ash arched an eyebrow. “You want it to go, or are we good?”
I didn’t have to drop my attitude. Sure, she’d apologized, but while I might have had a short fuse, I also had a hell of a long burn. However, as she stood in front of me with her arms crossed over her chest and her blue eyes pleading for forgiveness, it magically fell away.
I swallowed hard. “No. We’re good.”
“You sure?” She leaned in, eyeing me warily, but her smile began to grow.
I swear to God it pulled at my lips as well. I fought it. But the harder I tried to keep it restrained, the bigger Ash’s grew. She was stealing my smile. The chick was good! Finally, with an eye roll, I let out a quiet chuckle, which seemed to appease her.
“Good. Now, help your brother get redressed and I’ll make the fancy sauce.” She waggled her eyebrows.
* * *
Ash
“No! I dreamed about it. I swear to you, three months later, they won.”
“You are so full of it.”
“I’m not kidding. I total
ly predicted it.”
“I’m calling bullshit,” Quarry said, swiping a fry through my mayo-and-ketchup concoction.
“Well, I’m calling bullshit on your bullshit.” I reached forward, snagging one of his fries since I had completely devoured all of mine.
He tried to swat my hand away, but he was way too slow. Unfortunately, he had been paying attention to the lessons I’d been giving him every night since he’d moved in. While I was preoccupied with his fries, he stole my shake.
“Germs!” I yelled as he pulled a long sip. I wasn’t serious though. I didn’t have any germs that I knew of, and even though Quarry probably had a slew, I didn’t particularly care. I was having entirely too much fun to worry about catching a cold. “Stop! You’re gonna drink it all!”
“Fine. I’ll get my own.” He stood up and headed toward the counter, leaving me alone with the definition of fun personified.
“So, Flint. I heard you used to be a boxer too. I bet that was fun, you and your brothers all hanging out in the gym together.”
“Yep,” he answered stoically, leaning back and folding his hands over his lap.
“Do you miss it?” I ripped the breading off the onion ring and popped it into my mouth.
He narrowed his eyes and tilted his head. “Sometimes.”
“Quarry told me you used to be really good at it. You ever thought of doing, like, the Special Olympics or something? They have that, right?” I peeled another onion.
“The Special Olympics are for children with intellectual disabilities. I’m starting to think you might be a better suited for it than I am.”
Whoa!
Flint Page was quite possibly the weirdest guy I had ever met. I mean, I wasn’t exactly an expert on men or anything, but even I could tell he wasn’t normal, so to speak. On the surface, he was fine-looking. His dark-brown hair was perfectly styled, but he had this weird patchy thing on his face that I assumed was supposed to be a beard. He had gorgeous, blue eyes, but they were always so angry. If he’d smiled a little more, he could have been attractive. Maybe. But what really boggled my mind was the fact that it seemed like he truly wanted to be a miserable asshole. And let me just tell you, he was good at it. Luckily, my father was a dick. I knew exactly how to handle it.
I pasted on a sugary smile and met his angry smolder. “Nah, I’m not all that athletic. I’m more of a dancer.” I leaned back and propped my legs up on the table, crossing them at the ankles. “But hey, thanks for implying that I’m stupid. For a man in a wheelchair, you sure toss around stereotypes all willy-nilly.”
He quickly looked away.
That was the other weird thing about Flint. He worked so hard to be a dick, but the second I called him on it, I could see the guilt physically wash over his face.
He let out a loud huff. “Sorry.”
“No biggy,” I replied, removing my legs from the table.
Using my teeth, I ripped a packet of ketchup open and squirted it into my fancy sauce. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him watching me. I was relatively sure he was waiting for me to look back up, but I was still nursing the sting from our last interaction. I was in no rush to start round two.
“Flint!” Quarry yelled across the restaurant. “You want one too? They have peanut butter banana.”
“Ew,” I mumbled to myself.
“Yeah. I’ll take one,” Flint answered, and when I looked up, his eyes were still glued to me, and his expression appeared to be amused. “Not a fan of the banana?”
“Oh, I love bananas. Peanut butter makes me puke.”
“Fair enough,” he answered then went back to staring at me.
What the hell is with this guy and his staring?
I wiped my chin just to make sure I didn’t have food on my face while wishing Quarry would put a move on it and get his ass back to the table. He was fun to talk to. Flint? Not so much.
“Soooo . . .” I started awkwardly, unsure what else to say, but Flint suddenly had more than enough of his own words to need mine.
“I don’t like to think about the past. I would assume most people in my position wouldn’t want to sit around and reminisce about everything they’ve lost. Yeah, I miss boxing though. A lot.”
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t think of boxing as something you lost. It’s not like I said, ‘Hey, don’t you miss that feeling when you put on new socks?’ Now that would have been rude.” I shrugged. “Boxing’s still there. Sucks you can’t compete anymore, but punching bags don’t discriminate, do they?”
Flint opened his mouth to respond but quickly shut it.
“Anyway. Quarry told me you didn’t go to gym anymore, and I was just curious why you’d quit something you loved.”
“Jesus, how much has Q been running his mouth?”
“We’re both talkers.” I smiled. “Look, I wasn’t trying to upset you or anything. Sorry if it came off that way. I’ve just never known anyone who was paralyzed before. It’s kinda cool.”
He barked out a laugh. “Cool is not exactly the word I would use to describe paralysis.”
“Well, then maybe you’re using the wrong words.”
Flint didn’t respond, but he did go back to staring, so I went back to uncomfortably pretending to be enthralled with my fancy sauce. After tearing the packet of mayo open, I drizzled a design over the ketchup and then swirled it together.
“Here.” Quarry set two milkshakes down on the table.
Thank God!
“Dude, that bed at Debbie’s is kicking my ass.” He cracked his neck to the left, and even though I was only watching Flint out of the corner of my eye, I recognized the exact moment he saw it.
So fast that even I was impressed, Flint snaked a hand out and grabbed the front of Quarry’s shirt, catching him completely off guard. Q toppled forward.
“What the fuck is that?” Flint boomed, pulling the neck of Quarry’s shirt down to reveal his back.
“Let me go.” Quarry fought to get on his feet.
It was magic, really. Flint might have been older, but Quarry definitely had him in size. But even as Q struggled against his grasp, Flint effortlessly pinned him as he inspected his neck and back.
“Tell me that’s fake. I swear to God, Q. Tell me it’s fake.”
“It’s fake!” he yelled.
Flint shook his head but finally released him.
Quarry straightened his shirt and glanced around the empty restaurant. “Yes. If, by fake, you mean a permanent tattoo, then yes. It’s fake.”
I giggled as Quarry jumped back a step when Flint’s eyes almost bulged from his head.
“You’re fourteen!” he hissed through clenched teeth.
“And?”
“And nothing . . . You’re fourteen. You can’t get a tattoo.”
“Well, I didn’t know that, Daddy. Guess I really shouldn’t have gotten two, then.” He took another step away, flashing Flint a mischievous grin.
I desperately tried to contain my laughter. The last thing I needed was Flint turning that scary gaze on me. I didn’t have the force field Quarry so obviously possessed.
Flint suddenly rolled forward an inch, and it caused Quarry to flinch. That was it. I lost the battle with my lungs. I slapped a hand over my mouth as a loud laugh escaped.
Thankfully, Flint didn’t notice—or he at least opted to keep the lasers he was shooting from his eyes from giving me a new haircut.
“Who the hell would tattoo a fourteen-year-old kid? Christ, Q. You probably have hepatitis now.”
“Dustin Prince is eighteen, thank you very much.”
Oh fuck.
Flint curled his lip. “Who the hell is Dustin Prince?”
As Quarry pulled his wallet out, I nervously looked around the room for some imaginary backup or, at the very least, an emergency exit door.
I jumped to my feet. “I’m gonna use the restroom.”
And then enter the witness protection program.
Before I had the chance to walk away, Quarry droppe
d the bomb. “Ash got me a fake ID.”
Flint swung his angry gaze my way. “Excuse me?”
“Uhhh . . .” I stalled, lifting my hand to fix my hair and flipping Quarry off in the process. “In my defense, I just thought he was going to buy lottery tickets,” I lied, punctuating it with an innocent grin Flint seemed immune to.
“Who in God’s name would actually believe he’s eighteen?”
“Oh, they don’t really care. They just needed the ID to make it look legit. And no hep C, either. The shop is really clean. They owed me a favor, so I made sure they took extra-special care of him,” I tried to explain, but if Flint’s reaction was any indication I had just dug myself even deeper.
“You. Took. Him?” he asked very slowly.
“Maybe,” I squeaked and then followed Quarry’s example of backing away.
“You took a kid to get a tattoo?” He moved toward me.
“Possibly.” I once again stepped away. I didn’t think I was in any real danger, but judging by the vein bulging on his forehead, his head was very close to exploding—and I didn’t want to be in range when it did. Blood wasn’t my thing.
“Calm the hell down,” Quarry said, stepping between us. “This kid at school was going to do it for me, but Ash talked me into going to her place instead. You should see the sweet-ass design the guy drew for my back. This is just the start.”
“I hope it was worth it. You’re gonna look like Mabie when Till finds out.”
“Nah. He already knows. Slate ratted me out after he saw me in the locker room. I gotta wait until I’m eighteen to finish the rest. It’s Eliza I have to hide it from.” Quarry laughed.
As if he had been slapped, Flint’s head snapped to the side.
He stared into space for a few seconds before Quarry sighed and quietly said, “Come on. Don’t be like that.” It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know he wasn’t talking about the tattoo anymore.
“Whatever.” Flint spun away, leaving an arctic breeze in his wake.
I looked over at Quarry for answers on what the hell had just happened, but he only offered me an exaggerated eye roll.
“Let’s go,” Flint bit out as he started loading our trash on the tray. “Ash, you done with your shake?” he asked, sans all attitude.