Page 50

Kota

“C ’mon,” Crew smiled, “you’ve gotta admit the tinfoil one was pretty good.”

“I’ll give you props for the dedication. That’s all you’re getting from me,” I said.

The small diner we were in reminded me of Betty’s, which made me more convinced that I was having some weird dream right now where I’d been kidnapped and brought here with Crew against my will.

But the reality kept sinking in over and over.

I agreed to this.

Jesus. I’d officially come unhinged.

Shifting uncomfortably in my dirty gym clothes, I longed for a shower. I could feel his relentless eyes on me, and the second I met his gaze, I regretted it, visions of us showering together lurking up on me.

A jaunty grin greeted me from across the table as if he could read my thoughts.

“What’re you thinking about?” he teased.

I pulled my mind out of the gutter, giving the iciest smile I could currently manage. “You crying over tampons on your ceiling.”

That shrewd grin disappeared like a sandcastle getting washed away. Sitting back, he crossed his arms.

And here we were again. Playing this hate game.

“I had good pranks too,” he whined.

“Mhm,” I hummed. “Speaking of which, can you stop it with the sex boxes?”

He laughed once. Twice. Before a full laughing fit rolled out. Attempting to smother my grin, I tried my best not to allow the sound to affect me.

“Oh gosh,” he wheezed. “Yeah, sorry. I didn’t realize I never canceled that. Why didn’t you say something earlier?”

The inside of my cheek fell victim to my sudden unease, my teeth gnawing at it until I was about to draw blood.

A devilish grin crept up on Crew’s face, and I immediately knew I’d been caught. His eyes creased with delight, burning into me.

“You kept some of it, didn’t you?” he said.

“No,” I muttered a lie.

“You did,” he smiled wider.

I couldn’t look at him, not while knowing that the same objects he’d purchased to express his hatred for me were the same ones I used on myself while his face was stuck in my head the whole time.

Crew’s forefinger trailed around the edge of his glass of water, still beaming. With the way the light casted through the window beside us, he was glowing like a Greek God. Hair perfectly messy, jawline dangerously sharp, charming smirk radiating to the point where I was nearly blinded.

“Well,” he started, “were you ever planning on showing me what you’ve got?”

I sat back, doing my best to seem relaxed even though my growing attraction to him was making me want to flee the country. “Nope.”

“Why not?” he taunted. “I mean, I did pay for it.”

My phone vibrated on the booth beside me, and I held it at my side as I peeked, speaking, “Not happening, but you can keep dreaming.”

El: Apparently Crew has been hooking up with some mystery girl and TJ just gave me a whole interrogation because he thinks it’s me!! Can you believe that?!

My grip on the phone tightened, throat constricting with immediate worry as I stared at it.

“Why do you have that look on your face?”

“Did you tell anybody about us?” I panicked.

His brows crinkled. “Us?”

“Yes. Us. As in, your P in my V ,” I said sharply.

“God no,” he said. “Why?”

I placed my phone on the table and slid it over. Crew eyed me for a long moment before touching it, although I wasn’t sure if it was from a lack of trust that it wouldn’t explode in his hand or if he was just too scared to look.

I watched his eyes skim across the screen, every feature of his falling before reappearing as rage, like the sun peeking out during a thunderstorm before a tornado hit.

Dropping my phone as if it was lava in his hand, Crew dug his own phone out of his pocket. It was up to his ear in seconds.

“Speaker,” I whispered.

With a light groan, he complied, just in time to hear TJ casually say, “Hello?” on the other end.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Crew let out.

“A lot of things.”

“Clearly,” Crew spurred. “I told you not to tell anyone about what we talked about earlier. Why would you tell El?”

“I didn’t tell Matt,” TJ was quick to assure.

I wanted more than anything to butt into the conversation, but I couldn’t give myself up. Meanwhile, our waitress was headed our way, probably with an update on our food, but as she got closer, something seemed to change her mind, because she halted in her tracks, mouth popping open before switching directions.

Suddenly, the root of her alarm became clear. She could tell it was a bad time. The prominent tick in Crew’s jaw was hard to miss. And the closer I paid attention, the easier it was to note the smoke radiating off him like he just walked out of a burning building.

But unlike our waitress, I wasn’t spooked. I’d seen this sort of anger in him many times; it’s just never made me feel this odd attraction to him before.

Crew was a certified sex God around Cedar U, and the more time I spent with him, the easier it was to see why. Everything he did was somehow sexual, tempting. He could be doing the most casual things— breathing, eating, being pissed off. And it was somehow still enough to make women drool at the sight of him.

I used to be disgusted by those girls that would practically orgasm just by glancing his way.

Now I was becoming one of them.

Shit.

“O-kay,” Crew said. “So, you took everything I said about telling no one and just applied it to Matt? Who else did you tell?”

“No one else,” TJ responded, sounding like he didn’t have a care in the world. “I was just doing some investigative work.”

“Well knock it off,” Crew warned fiercely. “Shouldn’t you be buying Taylor Swift tickets right now or something?”

My face distorted back and forth between confused and amused, and I found myself choking back a howl of laughter.

Apparently, Crew struck a nerve, because TJ’s nonchalance spiraled, wild chagrin echoing through the speaker. “I already told you they’re sold out! Why would you say that to me? Now I’m upset!”

Giving an oily smile, Crew bobbed side to side, keeping his tone sharp. “Tell someone my business again and I’ll remind you five hundred more times that you’ll never see her live.”

“You’re an asshole,” TJ muttered before the call went dead.

Although our side of the diner was empty, it suddenly sounded like it was full. Between the two of us, our laughter was loud enough to fill every crevice of the room.

It was bizarre that we were laughing together instead of at each other, and what was more bizarre was how much I sort of liked it.

“I didn’t know he was a Swiftie,” I chuckled.

“The biggest,” Crew smiled, dimples so deep I could swim in them. “He’s obsessed with her.”

“Respect.”

Acting as if she hadn’t run away from a war zone minutes prior, our waitress returned, bright and friendly with plates stacked impressively in her hands and along the backs of her forearms.

“Omelets with sausage and hash browns,” she announced, sliding Crew’s food in front of him.

“Thank you,” he said.

“And blueberry pancakes with a side of bacon.”

“Thanks,” I grinned at her.

With dark brown hair that sat along her shoulders and bangs that I could never pull off, she was gorgeous. I’d be surprised if her looks didn’t get her extra tips.

Glancing briskly at her nametag that read Bethany , I watched her eyes land on Crew for what I swore was the hundredth time since we stepped into this diner. With none other than a sunshine smirk, she gave a light sway. Her voice came out slow and seductive, making it hard not to laugh at her.

“Anything else I can get for you?”

I was convinced the question was only meant for Crew.

It would’ve been so easy for him to feed into it, to do the thing he did best— flirt. To ooze that heavenly sex appeal he was full of. To make her fall at his feet and beg him to love her. Or fuck her. Or both.

But all he did was turn to me, not giving her an ounce of further attention. “Do you need anything else?”

“No,” I shook my head.

“We’re all set,” he said with a friendly ring to it.

Failing to hide her disappointment behind a weak smile that looked almost painful, she gave a single nod before wandering off.

I dove straight for my bacon. “She was so trying to flirt with you.”

“Yeah, so?” Crew mumbled between bites.

“So,” I paused, “why didn’t you do anything about it? She’s pretty.”

His eyes fell to his plate, a spark of discomfort storming in. Speaking low and hollow, he said, “I didn’t feel like it.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “Just didn’t want to,” he said quietly, focused only on his food.

There was a pang in my heart, a dip in my tummy as if I was on the huge drop of a rollercoaster. My initial thought was that maybe it had something to do with me.

But I shoved that thought away, along with all the strangely unique and pleasing emotions shooting through my bloodstream.

He doesn’t like me. I shouldn’t even entertain the thought.