Wiping tables, dumping baskets, and stacking chairs.
The Dairy Bar always felt bigger once it was empty.Quieter.Every sound sharper.
By the time we finished, it was almost eleven.The place smelled like sugar, bleach, and fryer oil.
Lark grabbed her purse.“Tomorrow.You’re going.”
“I said I would.”
“Good.”
She paused at the door.“And I still think he’s into you.”
“Good night, Lark.”
She laughed and left.
I stood there a minute after, listening to the hum of the machines.
Tomorrow night, I had a date.
That should’ve felt like something.
Instead, all I could think was Jesse asked.
Jude never had.
Chapter Two
Jude
The clubhouse door slammed behind Clove, her boots loud against the worn wood floor as she crossed straight for the couch like she owned the place, which we all kind of did.Ender was already sprawled out there, one arm hooked behind his head, looking like he hadn’t moved in hours.
“I want ice cream,” Clove announced.
Ender didn’t even open his eyes.“We were just there two days ago.”
Clove planted her hands on her hips.“And?”
“And normal people don’t need ice cream every forty-eight hours.”
She snorted.“You’re in a motorcycle club, Ender.None of you are normal.”
That got a grin out of him.He finally cracked one eye open, looking up at her.“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“I’m saying it like you should know better than to question my ice cream habits.”
I leaned back in the chair near the wall, watching the two of them go at it like it was a sport.It usually was.Half the time, you couldn’t tell if they were arguing or flirting, and I didn’t think they could either.
Clove tilted her head, studying him.“Besides, you agreed last time.”
“That was two days ago,” Ender shot back.
“And you can’t beat good ice cream,” she said, like that settled it.
Ender huffed out a breath, scrubbing a hand over his face before sitting up.“Yeah,” he muttered.“Yeah, you can’t.”
Clove’s grin was immediate.“So we’re going.”
