CHAPTER FOUR
TARA
So apparently I lied, it turns out there are a lot of things that are worse than catching your boyfriend cheating on you and a bunch of people talking shit about you on social media is low on the list. Things like coming face to face with the cheating prick for the first time.
If I hadn’t spent all day fighting with my parents over my new accessory, AKA Capone, I might have prepared myself for the moment I spotted Mark and Claudia together by the lockers. He looked right at me, and acted as though I didn’t exist.
That stung.
The wounds split open, never to be patched again, and it felt like salt was poured over them every time I changed classes and saw them together. It also didn’t help that I was the talk of the school. Some pitied me, but most thought I got what I had coming. I managed to tune most of that noise out, but during lunch I heard Christy Sanders mention my dad’s club, and I lost my shit.
The only reason he stayed with her for as long as he did was because her father is the president of the Satan’s Knights. Someone said she called him to come and get her and he wound up slashing Mark’s tires. Can you imagine?
That was news to me and highly unlikely. My dad would take blood before he took a tire.
Still, my lunch tray accidentally slipped from my hands when I went to throw it out, splattering marinara sauce all over her white shirt.
As gratifying as that was, I needed a break from all the humiliation. Putting on a brave face was exhausting. So when my best friend Sadie suggested we cut out the rest of the day, I jumped at the chance. Her dad doesn’t track her every move like my parents do, so we took her car, and left mine at school. I even stashed my phone in the center console, that way if my mom decides to check the Life 360 app she will be none the wiser.
I sling my backpack over my shoulder and loop my arm through Sadie’s as we enter the Waffle House and find a booth. When you grow up in Knightdale, Waffle House becomes a childhood staple, and you’re raised to believe that there isn’t a crisis that can’t be contained by the power of pecan waffles and a side of hash browns.
The waitress comes over, placing two glasses of water on the table and we rattle off our order. Once she’s gone, Sadie regards me with a curious look.
“So are we going to talk about it?” she questions as she works the wrapper off her straw. Peeling her eyes away from me, she inspects the straw and frowns. “I hate these paper things. They melt in your mouth.”
“First world problems,” I tease before reaching into my bag. I pull out a handful of plastic straws and hold them out for her to take one. I hate those paper things too.
“Care to explain why you’re hoarding plastic straws?” She asks as she plucks one from the bunch.
“Sally’s BBQ hasn’t gone green yet, so anytime I’m there, I grab a bunch of straws.”
A perk to my father’s club being a silent partner in one of the best barbeque joints in North Carolina.
She drops her straw into her glass and points a finger at me.
“You’re single now, you can’t go around telling people you steal straws from restaurants. They’ll think you’re a spinster waiting to adopt a cat.”
“A simple thank you would’ve been the proper response,” I mutter before I take a sip of my own drink. “And to answer your original question—no, I don’t want to talk about Mark anymore.”
Her perfectly arched eyebrows pinch together, and she shakes her head.
“Fuck Mark,” she says, her eyes darting over my shoulder. “I was talking about Captain Hottie over there by the counter.”
Narrowing my eyes, I glance over my shoulder to see who she’s referencing, and I find Capone sitting at the counter. My teeth sink into my bottom lip as I study his strong profile. He needs a shave, but even with all that scruff—he’s still hot. It’s annoying as all hell.
Why are all the hot guys such dicks?
“I’m pretty sure he followed us from school,” Sadie reveals pointedly, drawing my attention back to her. “So what is it this time? Another crazy lock down? Is this where we part ways, and you go into your tower for a week until your dad feels it’s safe enough to send you back into the wild?”
Her words aren’t meant to be insulting. Sadie and I have been friends for nearly half our lives, she’s familiar with how my dad’s club operates and has seen me through lockdowns, arrests, and even a few deaths.
My gaze snaps back to Capone and I watch as he tucks his menu behind the salt and pepper shakers on top of the counter. The waitress saunters over to him, a flirty smile playing on her lips as she leans close to him.
Turning to Sadie, I reply, “So because my life is one embarrassing shitshow after another, my dad decided to spring a new babysitter on me. We’re not on lockdown yet, but it’s coming, and until it does, everyone in my family has a shadow. That one is mine.”
“Lucky.”
“Not really. He may be pretty to look at but when he speaks, he’s a giant dick.”
“Ah hah! So she finally admits he’s hot.”
Just because someone doesn’t openly say something, doesn’t mean they don’t think it.
“I’m not blind, Sadie. Every girl with a pulse knows Capone is hot.” Dragging my hair away from my face, I tie it up in a messy bun on top of my head and sigh. “But yesterday when my dad sprung the news that he would be following me around, he acted like a jerk. To him, I’m just an unruly teenager with a fascination for TikTok. If he had it his way, he wouldn’t be caught dead with me.”
Which is rich considering I walked in on him having a Nerf gun war with my brothers. He isn’t exactly the poster child for maturity.
Sadie’s phone dings inside her bag, halting the conversation. She digs for it and my gaze cuts back to Capone. The flirty waitress is gone, but he still doesn’t look my way or acknowledge my presence.
I guess my dad wasn’t kidding when he said I’d barely notice him. Unless it’s a total coincidence that he’s here. I mean, I didn’t see him enter the restaurant, and he isn’t supposed to be following me until I get out of school. There’s no way he could’ve known I cut out. Maybe he has a thing going on with the waitress.
“Shit,” Sadie hisses, drawing my eyes back to her. “I completely forgot I have a meeting with my guidance counselor last period. I can’t miss it, or they’ll call my dad. We have to cancel our order. I’ll drop you at your car back at school.”
We both turn to flag down the waitress but my gaze locks with Capone’s instead. I guess he finally got bored of staring down the waitress’ shirt and decided to take in his surroundings.
He climbs off the stool, and my pulse quickens. I’m not ready to go a couple of rounds with him just yet.
“Looks like you’ve been spotted by Captain Hottie,” Sadie murmurs. “Wish we could stay to see how this pans out.”
Sadie grabs her backpack and loops it over her shoulder as she starts to slide out of the booth. “Hello? Did you hear me? We gotta go.”
Oh, I heard her alright. I just can’t seem to fucking move.
“Well, well, if it isn’t the princess herself,” Capone croons as he comes to a stop right behind Sadie, towering over her like some sort of dark knight.
“We were just leaving,” Sadie says just as the busty waitress appears next to Capone with our order.
“Two orders of pecan waffles, with hashbrowns and a side of sausage.”
“I’m sorry,” Sadie begins. “There’s been a change of plans. I have to leave. Is there any way we can we take it to go?”
“No,” I blurt, finally tearing my eyes away from Capone to stare at the waitress. “You can leave it.” She nods, setting our plates on the table, then she turns and touches Capone’s arm. “Yours should be ready any minute.”
“Can you bring it over here?” he asks, keeping his eyes on me.
“Uh…yeah. Sure.” Her lips turn down as her hand drops away from Capone’s arm, and she wipes her palms against her apron. “I’ll go grab your drink too.”
“Appreciate it, babe.”
She hesitates for about ten seconds then clears her throat and heads back behind the counter. My cheeks heat under the weight of Capone’s stare and I try to figure my next move. Why did I tell the waitress to leave the food? And why the hell did he tell her to bring his food here? I could never sit through a meal with him. Not without killing him or staring too long.
“Okay, well this is weird,” Sadie says, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “Tara, I have to go. If I stay any longer, I’m going to be late. How are you going to get back to your car?”
I look up at her only to laugh at the way her eyes are bulging as she tries to silently communicate for me to get the hell out of the booth.
“I’ve got her,” Capone says. “You can go.”
Sadie and I both look at him, but only one of us stares at him with a slack jaw. She turns back to me, raising a brow. “Um…is that okay with you?”
“Sure,” I say, trying my best to play it cool. “I’m stuck with him for the foreseeable future anyway. After this I might make him take me to Target.” I look back at Capone. “How do you feel about shopping?”
“I hate it.”
“Good, then we’ll go to the mall.”
“Ok, well since you two seem to have it all figured out, I’m going to go.” A mischievous grin spreads across her lips as she leans down, speaking quietly against my ear.
“You know what they say…the best way to get over someone is to get?—”
Narrowing my eyes, I cut her off.
“Don’t finish that sentence,” I hiss.
“I was just going to say the best way to get over someone is to get on the back of someone else’s bike,” she whispers before straightening to her full height.
She has no idea how sacred the men of the Satan’s Knights consider their bikes or just how precious that back seat truly is. My parents got divorced—my mom even got remarried—but my dad never put another woman on the back of his bike. I always found that so odd. He had another woman in his bed before the ink officially dried on their divorce papers, but his bike only belonged to my mom.
I shake my head, dismissing those thoughts. I romanticize their relationship entirely too much.
“Goodbye, Sadie.”
She gives me a cheeky grin. “Ciao!” She glances behind her at Capone, giving him a little wave. “Take care of my friend.”
Then she’s gone, leaving me alone with the big brute of a man who is too handsome for his own good, and two orders of pancakes.
“Aren’t you going to eat?”
With a bored expression on his face, and his dark brows pinched tight, he stretches his long arms wide across the top of the booth. At the motion, his t-shirt stretches over his bulging biceps.
Don’t stare. Whatever you do, don’t fucking stare.
I repeat those words over and over, and still my gaze zeroes in on the tattoo that crawls along the inside of his right arm. I can’t make out what it says, but I’m fairly certain it’s not English.
Maybe it’s Italian.
I could ask him but I wouldn’t want him to think I’m interested.
“Let me guess, you’re one of those girls who doesn’t eat in front of a guy.”
That snaps my attention away from the tattoo, and I glare at him.
“I bet I can out eat you any day of the week.”
His lips quirk and he winks at me. “I don’t know about that, princess. I like to eat.”
There’s something about the way he says that last sentence that makes it sound dirty. Mark never went down on me. He said it had nothing to do with me, that the act itself grossed him out. It never bothered me. I accepted it and I guess that’s mainly because I don’t know what I’m missing, but I’d be lying if I said I’m not curious, especially since Sadie says it’s the best feeling in the world. She prefers it over sex.
I stare at Capone for a beat. I want to ask him what he likes about it, but I stop myself.
He pushes my plate closer to me and reaches for the syrup, generously pouring it over my waffles.
“Eat,” he orders, gruffly.
“I don’t like syrup,” I deadpan. It’s a lie. I love syrup. But fucking with him might stop me from asking him insane questions.
“Bullshit. Everyone loves syrup on their waffles.”
I dig in, cutting through the fluffy goodness with my fork. Just as I take my first bite, the waitress appears with Capone’s order, placing a tall glass of chocolate milk and two dishes in front of him. One is stacked high with chocolate chip waffles and the other with peanut butter chip.
Hmm… I guess someone has a sweet tooth.
“Your bacon will be right out, sugar,” she croons as she leans over him to rearrange the plates, giving him another opportunity to ogle her tits. Capone’s eyes cut away from her cleavage and he winks at her before she saunters away, making a deliberate attempt to sashay her hips with every step she takes.
I don’t think she needs to try as hard as she is. He looks like he would be happy to screw her in the bathroom when her shift is over.
“So why aren’t you in school?”
His question forces me to tear my eyes away from the waitress, and I watch as he pops a forkful of waffle into his mouth.
“You’ve never cut out of school?”
“Of course I have.”
“Then you know there are a bunch of reasons why I’m not there.”
He hums thoughtfully, taking another bite. The waitress returns with his side of bacon, and this time she gives his shoulder a squeeze before she moves onto the next table. My grip on my fork tightens.
“I didn’t really peg her to be your type,” I mumble, stabbing my waffle.
He barks out a laugh.
“Now, what would you know about my type, princess ?”
“You usually go for brunettes.” I tuck a flyaway strand of hair behind my ear, twirling it around my finger for a moment. “Not mousey brown like mine, but dark and lush like Megan Fox.”
Surprise filters across his features and he raises an eyebrow.
“You keeping tabs on me, princess?” he asks, amusement in his tone.
“You’re far more entertaining than Leftie.”
The corners of his mouth turn up slightly. “I won’t argue with you there.”
He reaches for his glass, chugging the chocolate milk like he’s dying of thirst. It’s such an odd choice of drink for someone who prides himself on being such a badass. Draining the rest of the milk, he sets the empty glass on top of the table and leans forward.
“When you get out of diapers and start dating real men, you’ll learn variety is the spice of life.”
Just when I think we might be able to be civil, he strikes below the belt.
“When I get out of diapers?”
He eyes me for a second then starts to attack the peanut butter waffle.
“I didn’t stutter, did I?” he volleys over a mouthful of deliciousness.
“I’ll be eighteen soon enough.”
“My apologies. You’re practically ancient.”
I slam my fork onto the table. “What the hell is your problem with me?”
He steals a sausage link from my plate and pops it into his mouth. His jaw works as he chews, and the anger in me rises to new heights as it becomes clear he doesn’t think I deserve an answer.
“You’re an asshole,” I hiss.
“Because I stole one of your sausages?”
He may be pretty, but he sure is dumb if he thinks this is about sausage.
“Fuck the sausage and fuck you too. In case you need a reminder, I didn’t ask my dad for you to follow me around, and I sure as hell didn’t invite you to sit with me. You came over here on your own accord and told Sadie you’d take me back to my car.”
“Thanks for the recap.”
I push my mostly full plate toward him, tamping down the urge to actually dump the contents over his head, and signal for the busty waitress.
She makes her way over to us, her eyes bouncing from Capone to me.
“Need something?”
“Yes, can I have my check please?” I grab my backpack and open the front zipper to grab my wallet.
“Ignore her, Wendy, she’s just showing her age.”
Oh, so Tits Magee has a name. Fantastic .
I stop digging in my bag and shoot him a glare. Screw throwing the dish at him, I’m ten seconds from pouring the syrup over his head.
“I’ll take a refill on the chocolate milk, and while you’re at it why don’t you bring her a glass too.”
I smack my hand against the table, which is about as effective as a toddler stomping its foot.
“I don’t want chocolate milk, and I said I’m leaving.” I look at Wendy. “Can I please have the check?”
“Sure thing.” She smiles slyly, slipping her hand inside the front pocket of her apron, and hands me my check. “I’ll be right back with your chocolate milk, sugar.”
Before I can do any more damage to my suffering ego, I slide out of the booth, dropping enough money to cover my check and a tip. I’m about to flee when Capone jumps out of the booth. He tags my wrist, and spins me around, caging me against the table.
“Sit down,” he grunts, his breath wisping across my lips
“I don’t take orders from you,” I spat.
“Hmm…” He angles his head, his tongue slicking over his teeth. “Might be fun.”
I narrow my eyes and snap, “What?”
“Ordering you around. It might be fun.”
My eyes widen as my anger flares. I try to leave, but he widens his stance, bracketing me not only with his muscular arms, but with his thick denim clad thighs too.
“Let me go,” I demand, clenching my teeth. “You’re making a scene.”
“Are you going to sit?”
“Fuck no.”
He inches closer, his eyes darkening slightly as they bounce around, taking in every inch of my face before they finally lock with mine. The air suddenly becomes too thick, and the noise filling the restaurant seems to be muffled. All I can hear is the sound of our breaths—heavy and ragged.
“Thought I imagined it,” he growls. His jaw clenches and shakes his head. “That fire I saw in your eyes that night in the woods—I thought I imagined it, but it’s there, isn’t it, princess? You just need someone to ignite the flame.”
I have no idea what he’s talking about. But I can’t seem to focus. He’s way too close, and for someone who doesn’t really have sensory issues, I’m currently feeling very overstimulated.
Suddenly, he releases his grip on the edge of the table and takes a step backward. He doesn’t break our stare as he shoves his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, making it easy to detect the mischievous glint in his eyes.
It’s dare from him to me and I never back down from a dare.