My jaw pops, the pocket of air clearing my head. I try to smile at Bunny loading chocolate chip waffles into her mouth, but my jaw is welded, and I just look like a big goddamn idiot.
Xene’s stuffed groan shifts me his way, quickly scanning the busy mouths smacking and chomping around us.
“I’ll go take care of the bill,” he grins, his words muffled from a mouthful of hash browns.
I nod curtly, getting one in return from him that says he understands why it’s time to dash the hell out.
He’s a great dude. Honestly, he’s awesome. But him wanting to fuck Bunny isn’t. Or whatever weird cuck shit he wants to do.
The annoyance blazing up my spine turns me to Ora. She slurps the last of her coffee, completely unaware of my internal battle of wanting to grab the shitty little butter knife and ram it into her eye socket.
I’m not gonna be able to let this go. Not until I get even. Even if that’s just scaring her until she hates me. But the invasive eyes of a stranger are distracting me from saying something at the moment.
Bunny and Ora start stacking plates. I grab my cup of tepid tap water, raising the warm brim to my lips and meeting the blue eyes sitting several booths away.
She shamelessly continues her study of us, making it too obvious she’s taking notes in her journal. Notebook. I don’t know what the fuck it is. If you wanna know that bad, you go ask her yourself.
Cash, Aries, Duse, and Gwen are in the booth behind Ora, leaving Cash’s peroxide hair off to the side of the staring contest I just entered with the blondie that’s earning a spot in the wall of vertebrae.
I know Cash is trying to figure out what my problem is. But one quick check over his shoulder has him spotting the lonesome fool that wouldn’t be able to find stealthy waters if she fell off a boat.
Cash turns his head back toward me, our eyes stitching. “What the fuck?” he mouths.
I tip my head toward Bunny, gesturing for him to watch her, then set my glass down and give her leg a little shake, slipping out of the booth with a target on goldilocks that doesn’t have any bears to save her.
She’s in her early twenties, innocent looking. But the guilt draining down her throat and her journal slamming closed as I approach is anything but innocent.
I slash on a smile, dropping my ass to the bench seat across from her, and spread my arms out along the back rest. “She’s pretty, isn’t she?”
She immediately looks toward Bunny, nodding jaggedly and treasuring her secrets close to her chest.
“Staring’s not nice,” I tell her, finally getting her watery eyes back on me. “I know she’s killer to look at, but-”
“I’m not just looking at her,” she cuts me off, throwing a stiff hand out and gaping at me. “I-I mean, yes, I am, but I’m… Ugh, God, I’m so sorry.” Fumbling to open her journal back up, she moves quick to find the page she closed on. “I wanna be a director and I saw you guys come in and it just… You guys inspired something.”
Going through numerous stages of confusion and respect for her boldness, I keep my mouth shut, silently allowing her to twist the pages my way.
She drew us. In our separate booths. With nitty gritty details, all the way down to the texture of everyone’s hair.
That’s sick. But fucking weird. And I don’t trust her.
“Niiccee,” I drone, flicking back up to her wide pupils. “Director, huh? What kind of movie did weinspire within you?” I tack on sarcastically, trying to look for any cracks that might make her bleed out.
Clearly not picking up on my inability to give a shit, excitement blooms through her face and she flips back a page, clearing her throat to recite the gospel, I guess.
Xene slinks up behind her, pouncing over the back of her seat with a big ass grin and ripping the book from her hands.
“Hey!” she whines.
He laughs, playfully twirling his hair and taking exaggerated steps to the edge of the table. “Ooh, Bunny’s the killer.”
“Give that back!” she swats at the book in his hands, growing red in face as he dodges each swing. “That’s so not cool!”
My brows furrow, watching her lazy attempts at getting herpreciousback. “Weren’t you just drawing strangers without consent? And making up some weird little fantasy you’ll probably fetishize later?”
She stops, whipping her fury at me.
“Uh-oh, Raze. You die first,” Xene hums, turning the scribbled pages my direction and bumping his brows.
