She’s goddamn gorgeous.
And it’s not her curves, not her makeup, not her exercise or skincare routine.
It’s this inner glow that saysI believe in the good in the world, and I want to be the good in the world.
“Fuck,” Levi mutters again.
“You like hamburgers?” Dad asks Waverly as she passes the bar, Giselle right behind her. “Fried chicken? Meatloaf? Cooper might not offer you more than French fries, but it’s only because he took a ball to the head last night.”
Her eyebrows shoot up as she looks at me.
I shake my head.
“Well, he’sactinglike he took a ball to the head last night,” Dad amends. “All loopy and big-eyed and swoony. It’s like he has a concussion.”
“Did your father just tell her you’re crazy about her?” Levi asks quietly while Waverly smiles and charms him even more while she asks him for whatever his favorite menu item is.
“Are you bad with subtlety, or is he?” I reply. “Because that was really not-subtle subtle.”
Levi flips me off.
Waverly slides into my lap since Levi’s sitting in her seat. “Hey, you,” she says to him. “I thought you were busy all day.”
He murders me with his eyeballs. “Something came up.”
“Don’t be a dick,” she says. “Did I come after you when you were dating Violet Quinn and I warned you that if you were using my friend as a publicity stunt, I’d hunt you down and cut off your balls? No, I did not.Back. Off.”
I squeeze her leg. “I didn’t know you were friends with Violet Quinn.”
“Girls gotta stick together, especially when one of us is having a hard time.”
“How’s Aspen?” Levi asks.
She grins at him. “Aww, look at you changing the subject. She’s good. You looking for someone to boost your visibility with another collaboration? I heard a few sample tracks for the next album she wants to cut, and if you want to stay relevant…”
“Trash-talker. You okay?”
Waverly sighs. “Today.”
“Let me know if you need anything.”
And that’s supposed to be me too.
But I can’t help with this one.
I can do a lot.
But not enough.
Not when I’m due on the ballfield eight or nine months a year.
“Here.” I hand her a cookie off the tray we brought over from Grady’s bakery. “Cookies help.”
“Can you not sit on his lap?” Levi says.
“You’re in my seat,” she replies around a mouthful of chocolate chip cookie.
He points to the other two chairs at our four-top table.
