“I really don’t want to be late,” I told him.
He shook his head playfully. “You won’t be. I promise. Well, maybe just a little bit. But this place has the best waffles in the entire state.”
“I don’t even like waffles.”
“Pancakes then? Root beer floats? Chicken fried steak?”
I stared at him. “You’re not going to give up, are you?”
“Not a chance.”
“Fine, then. Let’s go get your waffles. But I better not miss a second of Fresh Suicide.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he promised.
It was his tone that made me nervous. I knew he was hungry. Just looking at him made me hungry. Er, for food. Because he was so large and obviously needed to constantly eat to keep up his energy.
But there was something else there too. Something that made me wary and skeptical of his real motives. He didn’t have to be as big of a Fresh Suicide fan as me, but there was something else there too.
He didn’t want me to go tonight.
He didn’t want me to see Jake.
But Troy didn’t realize how long I had waited for tonight. How long I’d been waiting for Jake.
Nothing was going to get in the way of that. Not even Troy Cameron.
