Anger twisted through me. My jaw locked, teeth grinding as I fought to keep it in. What an asshole. First he forgot her birthday, and now this? It wasn’t like she’d asked to go to a party on a school night.
Kaia’s cheeks flushed red. Her chin trembled as she slid off the stool. Wordless, she gathered her things while Russell watched with narrowed eyes. The confident girl I’d been talking to seconds ago seemed to shrink before him—sad, timid.
“And Kaia,” he said as she scurried toward the stairs, clutching her books to her chest.
“Yes?” she whispered.
“It’s not just the three of us in this house anymore. Make sure you wear something more appropriate.”
NOVEMBER 6TH
I’ve never been so embarrassed.
Three days have passed, and I still replay my father’s words: Make sure to wear something more appropriate.
When did being comfortable at home become a crime?
And he said it right in front of Asher. I felt so small I could die.
Each time Dad points out something he thinks I do wrong, it’s like I physically shrink.
I wonder how long it will be before I’m so tiny that people stop noticing me at all.
CHAPTER FIVE
Kaia
“Kaia.” Hailey burst into the staff room at Grill&Go, panting. “Dragon Cynthia’s breathing fire because we’ve got too many people and not enough servers. Better clock in now.”
I shoved my diary into my denim backpack and stuffed it into my locker. “Cool. I’m here anyway.”
She shot me a thumbs-up. “Amazing. Let’s go.”
Most days I got to Grill&Go half an hour before my shift because of Sharon’s schedule. She dropped me off before yoga, and I didn’t mind—I used the spare time to write in my diary or read. I still had ten minutes before clock-in, but I knew better than to leave Hailey alone with the dragon. Cynthia would complain about being understaffed, but she wouldn’t actually help.
I followed Hailey into the dining hall, where every table but one was full. She handled the back while I took the four closest to the entrance. After dropping off food and drinks, more people poured in. If luck was on my side, tonight’s rush would mean good tips. After missing extra shifts over the weekend because of Dad, this one mattered even more.
For the next two hours, I darted between tables.
“You’ve got another at table five,” Cynthia said as I carried a tray of dirty plates into the kitchen. “Hurry.”
As if I’d been slacking. Sweat dampened my back under the black T-shirt, but telling her that would get me fired faster than I could spell soda. I dumped the dishes and hurried back.
My steps faltered when I spotted the customer at table five. He’d only been back a week, but his sharp cheekbones, messy brown hair, and sculpted frame were already etched in my brain.
None of the photos I’d seen in sports articles did Asher justice. I approached, praying I didn’t look as nervous as I felt. “Hi. This is a surprise.”
His gaze skimmed over me, scattering tingles across my skin. “Hola, peque. I’m a bit lost.” He pushed the menu toward me. “I don’t know what to choose. Help me out?”
I cocked my head. “Do you have anything in mind?”
“Coffee.” The corners of his mouth twitched. “Preferably good.”
“Espresso?”
Ash rubbed the back of his neck, smirking. “I guess so. Anything that doesn’t taste like muddy water.”
“Something that reminds you of muddy water,” I muttered, pretending to scribble. “Anything else? A slice of mud pie?”
