Page 33

Chapter Thirty-Two

Scarlett

“ P repare to be impressed!” Maggie calls from behind the long curved counter at Board and Brews, butchering what I think is supposed to be a southern accent. “Loaded nachos coming up, y’all!”

Seb, Xave, Jackie, Dylan and I are all crowded around a long table, coats and hats and extra sweaters piled high on the table next to us. Silas and Caroline are in the kitchen with Maggie, already getting started on the three platters of nachos they promised would blow our minds. I didn’t realize Caroline worked here too, but it’s obvious with how comfortable she is behind the counter, that she does.

Maggie didn’t turn on all the lights when we came in, so there’s a warm, dim glow that makes the large space feel cozy and a little secretive. Like we’ve discovered some hidden spot where no one else will find us. Silas put music on as soon as we came in, and I Can See It by My Bloody Valentine is playing softly through the speakers mounted on a couple of the walls.

“I can help make the nachos, if you guys want,” Jackie calls towards the kitchen.

“NO!!!” Silas, Maggie and Caroline all shout in unison. Then everyone cracks up.

“Well, as long as you’re sure.” Jackie makes a face, and we all laugh again.

I’m not sure what the inside joke is there, but clearly something to do with Jackie being terrible in the kitchen. Which seems weird given she did that whole road trip in the summer selling home-baked cookies and stuff at music festivals across New England. Or maybe it’s just nachos she’s bad at making.

“You’re not getting any fancy tomatoes on the side, by the way,” Silas calls over, eyes on me, the glimmer of humor balancing the gruff tone of his voice.

“Fine. But you can say goodbye to your double-digit tip,” I retort, and he grins.

There are a few bowls of candies on the table we’re sitting at, and Seb and Xave are playing some lame game where they take turns guessing what flavor jellybean they’re eating with their eyes closed. Dylan is sitting next to me, observing everything. Silent and serious and tense as hell. He’s wearing the same stoic, bored mask he wears at school. But at least he’s here. Out of his house, with other people his age. He didn’t bail, which I expected him to, after everything that went down at the bonfire.

I’m not as affected as I thought I would be after seeing Carter tonight, especially after I built it up so much in my mind these past few weeks—what it would be like coming face to face with him again. But honestly, I was more affected by seeing Dylan almost losing it in front of half the SH Prep student population. Seeing him almost let loose on Carter, despite having one arm in a cast, made me realize how not worth it Carter is. How unworthy of that level of emotional response he is. In the end, Carter did win in a way, because he ruined the end-of- fall bonfire for a lot of people I care about. Or cutting it short, at least. Him showing up made me miss out on something that could have been really awesome in the present because of something crappy that happened in the past.

But the night isn’t over yet. I’m in a really cozy coffee shop with people that matter so much more than what Carter Beaumont thinks of me.

“Let’s go find a game to play,” Jackie suggests, pushing her chair out.

Seb gets up and follows. Xave stays put and we chat for a few minutes.

“Hey, Dylan!” Silas calls over. “You’re not vegetarian or anything, are you?”

Dylan looks confused. “That when you don’t eat meat?”

“Yeah.”

“Nah. I’ll eat anything.”

Silas grins. “Noted.” Then he can’t help getting in one last playful dig at me, so he adds. “You wouldn’t believe some of the picky eaters we get passing through here.”

“People with a refined palate, you mean?” I smile sweetly.

“People with a refined palate probably shouldn’t be eating at a joint that serves nachos and fries and chocolate milk.” He smiles back. The kind of smile the Big Bad Wolf would probably sport if he had a profile pic on Insta.

I have no quick comeback, so Silas wins this round. I kind of love this volleying back and forth with him. That, despite the grumpy disposition, it’s obvious he isn’t the kind of guy who takes these sorts of barbs seriously. I think he enjoys them as much as I do.

Maggie wanders over, wiping her freshly washed hands on a dish towel she tosses to the side of the table.

“Jackie and Seb are choosing a game,” I tell her. “In case you want to jump on board with that.”

“Oh, cool. Sure. Guaranteed, I’ll choose something cooler than whatever they’ll come back with. Board games are kinda my jam.”

Xavier slides down in his seat, totally man-spreading. He stretches his arms out on either side, too, along the back of the bench seat, and his lips curl into that snarky grin I’ve only seen him wear around his parents or his brother’s nannies. “Huh,” he grunts. “Surprising for someone who’s such a buzzkill.”

There’s a loaded silence, smothered only slightly by the chorus of Cigarettes Will Kill You by Ben Lee coming from the speaker just above us.

“Oh, no,” Maggie responds without a second’s hesitation, cool as a cucumber. “You see, I’m able to enjoy pretty much any game I play, because I’m not one of those people who throw a temper tantrum as soon as things don’t go my way.”

I focus closely on their interaction, searching for hints about what the hell the story is between these two. But they volley back and forth so quickly I don’t have time to dissect their barbs.

“Yeah, on second thought,” Xavier drawls. “I could see how board games would be your thing. You know—since you’re such a stickler for following rules.” His upper lip curls into that same obnoxious grin. If he wasn’t so good looking, it would be totally off-putting. As it is, Xavier Rockwell’s appearance matches his name perfectly: princely and slightly exotic, despite how hard he tries to counteract his aristocratic beauty with a rotation of ripped jeans and frayed T-shirts.

"Whatever you say." Maggie's eyes move to Dylan and me. “I’m going to pick out an awesome board game, while Lord McGrumpster here sits out like a sulking sloth in a party hat.”

I can’t help the laugh that escapes my lips. That was a seriously epic insult.

Xavier rolls his eyes and scoffs. “Bite me—” He arches an eyebrow. “Shit, what’s your name again? “

Maggie has already turned, strolling towards the rows of board game-stacked shelves, her wavy pink hair swaying back and forth along the collar of her newspaper print fitted T-shirt. “Oh gosh, no need to bother remembering my name,” she throws dismissively over her shoulder. “I’m just a lowly commoner.”

Xavier doesn’t answer this time, but I notice his knee bobbing up and down beneath the table. Maggie totally gets under his skin… and I’m sort of here for it. I haven’t seen Xave thrown off his game before. He is never anything but mister chill, easy-going, and unflappable.

He pulls out his phone and starts scrolling through social media. Dylan and I end up following the others over to the rows of board games, heading towards the back of the café. He leans against the wall with his non-injured hand in his pocket while I pull out a few boxes to read the descriptions on the back.

“I, uh…” he starts, but then stops and clears his throat.

I turn to face him, holding a mammoth box that feels like it’s housing a small city instead of a board game. The hesitation lets me know he’s trying to say something that doesn’t come easy to him. I stack the game back on the shelf and lean beside him against the wall.

He tries again. “What you said… at the bonfire. About me making your personal issue into a public thing…” He swallows. Rakes a hand through his hair, then drops it by his side. “You were right. That was—I don’t… I think…”

“I know,” I tell him. “And it’s okay.”

“It’s not okay.”

I slide my hand along the wall until the tip of my pinky touches his warm skin. I slide it over another inch and hook it around his pinky. He doesn’t pull away.

“It is definitely okay,” I repeat. “I’m out with cool people, about to eat nachos and play a nerdy board game I probably won’t understand. Possibly nab free front row seats to Xave and Maggie launching into a full contact smack-down.” I grin.

Dylan doesn’t acknowledge my joke.

“Seriously. I’m good. We’re good.” I squeeze his pinkie. “I hated that you reacted that way. But I get it… I would probably hulk out too if someone who had done something horrible to you waltzed back into your life and made you want to disappear. So I mean it—we’re good, Dylan.”

He shakes his head. “It was shitty.”

“Okay… Let’s make a deal.” I change tactics. “From now on, you can stand by my side during my battles. Be my wingman. Just as long as you don’t muscle your way in front and fight them for me.” I glance over and our eyes meet.

His narrow, like he’s mulling over the meaning behind my words.

I continue, “And I’ll do the same for you. I’ll be your trusty badass sidekick during your battles. The Robin to your Batman. The Starlite to your Rainbow Brite. The Tweety to your Syl—”

“Think I got it.”

“The Kryptonite to your Superman.” I grin, on a roll now. “The Speedy to your Arrow. The Patrick to your Sponge—”

“You’re gonna lose your wingman pretty soon,” he warns.

“You want me to stop?” I feign confusion.

“Like five examples ago.” He finally cracks a grin. “Also, you need to brush up on your comic book trivia. Kryptonite is a mineral that kills Superman if he’s exposed to too much of it. And Tweety and Sylvester are enemies. Literally the opposite of sidekicks.”

I roll my eyes. “God, I hope you won’t be this nitpicky the whole time you’re my sidekick.”

“Just want to make sure we have the same definition of a sidekick. For a second there, it sounded like you might want to flatten my ass into the ground, with the whole kryptonite thing.”

I sigh. “Okay, we’ll scrap the Superman and Tweety examples, then. The others still stand.”

“Cool.” He twists his hand so all five of his fingers curl around mine.

“Cool.”