Page 3 of Breakout (Walker University #3)

two

“ T hanks, Carl,” I say as he sets the last drink on my tray.

“Of course, Peyton.” He smiles before heading off to help a customer.

I heft the tray and make my way to the table of rowdy college guys. I work my way around the table, setting their drinks in front of them.

“Are you gentlemen ready to order?” I ask as I tuck my tray under my arm.

“Sweetheart, I’m anything but a gentleman.” One of the dudes winks, or well, tries to.

I ignore his lame attempt at flirting and look around the table, silently begging one of them to tell me what they want to eat.

“Don’t have a response to that?” one of the other guys asks.

I give him a forced smile. “Are you guys ready to order?”

“Are you on the menu?” a third guy quips, making all of them laugh.

I fight the urge to roll my eyes.

Tips. I need the fucking tips.

“All right, I’ll be back in a few minutes to check on you. Might I recommend taking the time to look over the menu?”

Before they can say anything else, I turn and walk away. I check on a few tables and see that two are ready for checks.

“Hey Peyton, I sat your friends in your section,” Holly, our hostess, says as I finish running my customers’ cards.

“Thanks, Hols.” I smile as I pick up the tickets.

After I drop them off, I head to the table of hockey players.“Hey, guys,” I say when I approach.

“Hey, Pey,” the guys say all at once.

“Where’s Grace?” I ask Clay.

He gets this goofy smile on his face. “She’s in a study group. I’m supposed to bring her home food.”

I look over at Kellan and ask about my roommate. “I’m assuming Cora is at work?”

He nods. “Yeah, she wanted to finish up some paperwork. I’ll pick her up when we’re done.”

One of the guys shifts, pulling my attention to him.

Beckett.

An involuntary shiver takes over my body as I look at him. He smirks at me like he knows it too. He probably does. He pays far too close attention to me.

I’ve told him that he’s going to get us caught, but it doesn’t deter him.

He’s trouble with a capital T.

“Pey,” he rasps, making goose bumps crawl across my skin.

I fight the urge to react to his tone. One syllable and I’m ready to jump across the table and let him take me. Fuck anyone around.

“Hey Beck,” I say, trying to sound casual. “Do you guys know what you want to drink?”

Not only do the guys rattle off their order for drinks but for food as well.

“I love you guys for making my life easier.” I sigh, making them laugh.

I don’t miss the flare in Beckett’s eyes as I make the statement before I leave them.

I head to the server station and put their order in as Carl, our bartender, fills their drinks. Once they are on the tray, I head back to them to drop them off.

“All right, we’re kind of slow right now, so your food shouldn’t take too long,” I tell them.

“Awesome,” Brett says as he rubs his hands together.

“Hey, sweetheart, get that fine ass over here. We know what we want,” one of the assholes from the other table says, making the table of hockey guys go tense.

“Easy, guys,” I warn them.

“They shouldn’t talk to you like that,” Beckett says darkly.

“They aren’t the first, and they won’t be the last. It’s part of the job,” I tell him.

“Doesn’t mean they shouldn’t learn a lesson,” he says, cracking his knuckles.

“Save the violence for the ice there, Hayes.” I wink before walking away.

I head over to the table of dickheads and force a smile. “Have you gentlemen decided what you would like to order?”

“Your pussy, right here on the table,” the dickhead who asked if I was on the menu says as he taps the table.

I’m so caught off guard that I miss the sound of scraping chairs behind me, only realizing it when Beckett gently moves me to the side.

“What the fuck did you just say to her?” he demands.

“You fucked up, buddy. I’ve been itching for a fight, and you just gave me a reason,” Brett mutters darkly.

“Beck…” I say, trying to warn him off.

“Don’t,” Wyatt says as he catches me by the shoulders.

“What? Does she belong to you? I don’t see a ring on her finger, and as far as we’re concerned, that means she’s fair game,” Dickhead number one says.

“Yeah, you hockey assholes don’t get to claim all the pussy. Let the rest of us have some,” the asshole who asked if I’m on the menu says.

Beckett steps forward again, and when I see his fist start to draw back, I lunge out of Wyatt’s hold.

“Outside, now,” I hiss as I pull on Beckett’s shirt.

Surprisingly, he listens.

“Peyton, everything okay?”

I look over and see Carl is standing in our way, arms crossed with a frown on his face.

“Actually, no, Carl. Those guys were being disgusting, and this one here decided to step in.”

Carl’s jaw clenches as he nods. “I’ll take care of them, but get him under control. You know the boss man has a no-fighting policy.”

I shoot him a thankful smile that he’s not just going to rat me out. “Will do.”

I drag Beckett through the restaurant and scan the parking lot once we step outside. When I spot his vehicle, I drag him to it before turning on him.

“What the hell, Beckett? What was that?” I yell.

His eyes narrow. “I was defending you.”

“I don’t need you to defend me. I had it under control.”

He scoffs. “Really? Because from what I saw, you were just tolerating it. Does that happen a lot, Peyton?”

“That’s none of your business. That kind of shit happens, and I don’t need you acting like an overprotective boyfriend,” I snap.

Beckett shakes his head, anger clear on his face. “I know I’m not your boyfriend, Peyton, you’ve made that blatantly clear, but I am your fucking friend. Those guys were fucking pigs and needed to be knocked down a peg or two.”

“I agree they are fucking pigs, but it’s not your job to teach them a lesson.”

Beckett scoffs, but I push through.

“I need this job, Beckett. I don’t know if you quite understand that or not. I can’t lose this job.”

He sighs after a moment. “I know, Peyton, I know.”

“If I don’t make tips, I can’t afford tuition or anything else. I don’t have parents to fall back on when I fall short like the rest of you do.”

His eyes narrow as he points at me. “Low fucking blow, Pey. Too far.”

For a split second, guilt hits me in the chest. I know Beckett’s intentions were pure, but that’s not the point.

“Now, you need to promise me that you will never step in again if a customer gets out of hand, or I’m going to have to insist you don’t come in when I’m working. What’s it going to be?”

Beckett turns away from me, shaking his head.

“Un-fucking-real,” he mutters before turning back to me. “Fine. I won’t step in. You can fight your own battles.”

“Thank you.” I take a deep breath. “Your order’s probably up. Are you ready to go back inside?”

He shakes his head and moves to his driver’s door. “Nah, I lost my appetite. Tell one of the guys to eat it, and I’ll pay them when they get back to the house.”

“Are you sure?” I press.

“Yeah, I’ll see you later,” he says as he gets inside.

Turning, I head back toward the restaurant as a feeling of wrongness moves through me.

He was being protective like he would with Grace or Cora, but I can’t accept that for myself. I meant what I said. He isn’t my boyfriend, even if for a second it felt like he was.

It has to be this way.

This is for the best, right?

Quietly, I head down the stairs.

“Hey, man,” Wyatt says.

Fuck.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“I’m just watching some TV. Want to join me?”

“Nah. Thanks, though.”

He turns and looks at me and raises a brow when he sees I’ve got shoes on and my keys in my hand.

“Where are you going?” Wyatt asks.

Shit. Part of me wants to tell him. If there’s one thing about Wyatt, it’s that he’s good at keeping secrets. I know he wouldn’t tell a soul, but I can’t. I won’t betray Peyton like that. If she wants our friends to know, she will tell me.

Right?

I shake my head. “I’m going out to get something.”

The corner of his mouth kicks up. “What are you going to get?”

“Just some things…”

“Right…”

“Anyway, I’m going to get out of here. I’ll be back later.”

I make it all the way to the door and start to open it when he calls out.

“Beckett.”

“Yeah?” I call over my shoulder without turning around.

“I hope she’s worth it.”

She is.

I don’t bother responding as I shut the door behind me and head for my car. Once inside, I drive to the restaurant on autopilot. The parking lot is already empty as I make my way to the back of the lot where employees park, and I can see the back door.

I shut off my car and sigh.

“I really shouldn’t be here. If she knew, she would kill me,” I say to myself.

Peyton Anderson is the biggest pain in my ass, and for some goddamn reason, I can’t walk away.

Anytime we go out, she insists on paying for herself.

The look of regret that crosses her face every time she swipes her card kills me.

I’ve offered to pay for her time and time again, but her pride stands in the way.

The couple of times I’ve managed to pay before she could, she’s given me the silent treatment, which is almost just as painful.

I knew money was one thing, but tonight I learned it’s so much worse than that.

She has so much fucking pride she won’t even let me stand up for her and defend her.

Hell, I wasn’t the only one who was ready to fight for her honor, but I’m the one she called out.

I’m the one who got yelled at like a child who did something wrong.

It’s fucking bullshit.

It stings knowing that she probably wouldn’t have reacted as badly as she did if we weren’t sleeping together.

Excuse me, fucking. We don’t sleep. Anytime I start to doze off, Peyton is quick to wake me up and tell me I need to leave before Cora comes back when we stay at the dorms. When we are at my place, she doesn’t even let my dick stop twitching before she’s up and out the door.

That’s a whole other topic that I don’t even want to think about.

The back door of the restaurant opens, and I watch as the staff files out. Peyton tosses her head back and laughs at something one of the women she works with says, making me smile.

She’s fucking beautiful.

She breaks away from her coworkers and heads to her car.

“Bye.” She waves before slipping inside.

I can’t hear the word, but I watch her mouth form it. Everything about the woman captivates me. She hates when I stare, but I can’t help it.

I wait for her to pull out before I follow behind her.

I keep several car lengths between us as I follow her back to campus.

I know it’s wrong to be following her without her knowing, but I can’t help it.

For some reason, I need to know that she makes it home safe after working a late shift.

When we’re on the road and I know she’s working, it fucking kills me.

What if something were to happen, and I’m not there to save her? She could get a flat tire and need help. Or God forbid someone helps her, she could be hit by a passing motorist and left for dead. Someone could pretend to be a cop and pull her over only to take her.

When she pulls into a parking spot, I drive on by and park a little way down but where I can still see the door for her dorm building. I shut off my car as I watch her walk into her building. I’ll give campus one thing: at least the paths between buildings are well lit.

Sighing, I lean my head back against the headrest and wait.

I could head home, but I won’t. I know how this is about to play out.

She will go up to her room and find that Cora is staying with Kellan.

Peyton will take a shower and then text me telling me to come over.

Like the fool I am, I’ll go to her even if I hate the way it makes me feel.

If Cora were home, I would need to rush back to my place because she would be coming there. She won’t risk Cora finding out about us. It’s this cat-and-mouse game we keep playing.

One day, we are going to get burned.

Logically, I know we are friends and that our connection is deeper than the physical shit, but Peyton doesn’t see it that way. She sees me as a friend who knows how to make her body sing, and that’s all she wants. Nothing more, nothing less.

I really should give her an ultimatum. Either date me or the sex ends, but I know she would never go for it.

I would rather have her any way I can than not have her at all.

She has me wrapped around her finger, and she doesn’t even know it.

Even if our friends-with-benefits situation makes me feel cheap and used.

Like clockwork, my phone vibrates.

I pull it out of my pocket and sigh when I read her message.

P

Come over.

My cock perks up for what’s about to come. He knows that those two words mean I’m minutes away from sinking into his favorite place.

Jesus Christ, I’m thinking of my dick like it’s an actual person.

I laugh and shake my head as I read her text again.

P

Come over.

For a split second, I contemplate denying her. I could head home and go to bed. Hell, I’m sure Wyatt is still up waiting for me. I could hang out with him and catch up. It’s been a while since we’ve really done anything outside of hockey besides trying to get a bite to eat earlier.

You won’t, though.

Like a complete sap, I text her back.

Me

On my way.