His brows lift because normally, I sit next to him and Pecan goes where I am now.
I’m breaking over a decade’s worth of habits here—this one was forged in Pizza Palace, two blocks away from middle school where we’d gather after heading to the arcade while bitching about classes and their coach who made Coach Bradley look reasonably sane.
“What’s with you?” Zach tips his head to the side. “Where you at?”
I hide a smile then bark out, “Stick control, Bradley. I know you have it in you because you nearly got expelled for messing around in the dressing room our senior year!”
“Coach Mellor was crazy.”
“I think he was very well adapted, considering he had to put up with you and Pecan at the same time.”
Zach grins. It gradually grows cocky. “We’re the only reason we won the cup for our district.”
“Oh, yeah? You two and what about Allinson Taylor?”
He wafts a hand. “Sure, the captain and coach had something to do with it.”
“Ya think? It’s a miracle you and I can both fit in this booth with your head taking up so much space in the diner.”
“Why are you polluting your brain with Coach Mellor?”
I shrug. “Mostly I was thinking about Pizza Palace.”
“Ahhh. Good times.”
“What the hell are you doing sitting in my seat?!” I face Pecan, who’s glowering at me. “That’s my spot.”
“I thought we needed a change,” is my lofty retort, but I wink at Zach so he thinks he’s in on the joke.
He isn’t. Not really.
If I sit next to him, then he’ll kiss me. It’s in his warm gaze. The way he tangled our fingers on the ride over. The soft peck of his lips to the tip of my nose as he helped me out of the SUV.
And I’m not ready for anything public.
Nor am I ready for him to potentially press me into his side as we eat or to maybe feed me French toast or anything remotely romantic/sweet.
I know, I know.
I suck.
Trust issues. What can I say?
Pecan, pouting, drops himself beside Zach. “You finished that essay for comms, Denny?”
“Nah. I have no idea what to write.”
“Why not?” Zach inquires. “I thought Callan was tutoring both of you now?”
“He is. It’s turning into a full-time position. We should probably pay him a salary.” I check out the time. “I told him to join us for breakfast so we could walk over to the library together.”
When Juniper, a server from my English class, appears with three mugs and the coffee pot, I fail to notice Zach’s grimace. Especially when Pecan falls on her like she invented his favorite food group—Nutella.
“Can you bring over extra for Callan, please, Juniper?” I request.
“Sure thing.” She tips her chin at the booth beside us. “Morgan, you okay over there? Kinda look like Pecan. Ya know. Dying.”
“I resent that,” Pecan grumbles, but he snatches at his coffee like he last consumed caffeine a decade ago.
