Storm. Brigid Kemmerer
and blush while Drew ate half her food. She and Quinn had never been popular before Drew showed interest in her. They had loved the attention.
What a waste.
The rain beat an incessant rhythm on the school windows, keeping everyone indoors, turning the cafeteria into a mob scene. Standing in line was just another opportunity to get hassled, so she and Quinn usually just nursed bottled waters. On a day like today, every seat was valuable, and two physics geeks were scribbling notes at the other end of their table.
Becca thought they were doing homework, until she realized they were plotting out some online role-playing game.
Quinn rolled her eyes at them. “Jesus, Bex, you think we can get them to go back to Mordor?”
One of the kids glared at her. “Shut it, Quinn. Why don’t you go eat in the bathroom with the rest of the freaks?”
Becca sighed and twisted her water bottle in her hands. It had already gone lukewarm. She watched the rain coat the windows and started to peel the label off her bottle. Fourteen more minutes of “lunch.”
As usual, she was starving.
“Sorry, precioussss,” said Quinn. “Why don’t you go eat in the lab with the rest of the losers?”
“Wow. This sounds like a friendly table.”
Becca snapped her head up. Chris Merrick stood there, beside Quinn, holding a lunch tray. He wore an unbuttoned plaid shirt over a blue tee. The swelling around his eye had subsided, but the bruising along his cheekbone was downright spectacular. His hair barely covered the scabbing at his temple.
Actually, he looked surprisingly good, considering the damage he’d taken. The shirt made his eyes look bluer, sharp and intuitive and fixed on her face.
Her heart kicked. “Um,” she said. “Hi?”
He dropped the loaded tray beside Quinn, then swung a leg over the bench to sit down.
Every person at the table stared at him.
He picked up a fry, glancing around. He offered the physics kids half a smile. “ ’Sup.”
Quinn dragged her eyes back to Becca’s. “Why is Chris Merrick sitting next to me?”
Chris popped the cap on his soda. “You know I can hear you, right?”
Becca couldn’t stop staring at him. “What are you doing here?”
“And what the hell happened to your face?” said Quinn.
He raised an eyebrow and straightened. “I was mostly being sarcastic with that whole ‘friendly table’ comment, but I can take a hint... .”
Becca shook her head quickly. “I just—I meant—you weren’t here this morning.”
“It was a rough night.” He shrugged and picked up another fry. “Michael let me sleep it off.” He looked down at the table, apparently noticing for the first time that he was the only one eating. “You guys are already done? I barely made it through the line.”
Quinn took a swig of her water.
Becca glanced away. “We didn’t feel like braving it.”
“Here.” He held out his apple. “I can’t eat while you’re just watching me.”
Quinn snorted. “The symbolism here might just kill me.”
Chris grinned, withdrew his arm, and took a bite. “I’ll eat it then.” He pushed the fries off his tray and into the space between them. “You eat the fries.”
Quinn gave him wide eyes. “But ... whatever will you eat?”
A pear, two pieces of pizza, a cup of applesauce, and a Styrofoam bowl of macaroni and cheese still sat in front of him. He shrugged. “I’ll make do.”
Quinn took one, almost hesitantly. “Seriously. What are you doing here?”
“I came to apologize for my dickhead brother.” He took another bite of his apple, his eyes intent on Becca. “And to thank Becky for last night.”
“Becca,” she snapped.
He smiled. “I know.”
Oh.
Oh.
Becca blushed and hated herself for it.
Then she realized Quinn was staring at her, a kind of shocked dismay on her face.
Crap.
“Quinn, look, it’s not like you think—”
“Don’t worry. I get it.” Quinn was standing, slinging her backpack over her shoulder.
“Wait—Quinn—”
But her friend was already shoving past other students, making her way toward the common area.
Becca sighed. “Great.”
“We’re not gonna cry about it,” said one of the physics kids.
“Shut up,” she snapped.
Chris took another bite of his apple and set it on his tray. “Now she seemed nice.”
Becca glared at him, irritated. Had he meant the double entendre about last night? God, for ten seconds, she’d entertained the thought that he was going to sit down and be a nice guy.
“So which one?” she said.
He frowned. “I’m sorry?”
“Which brother? I’m having a hard time differentiating on the dickhead scale.”
“Oh.” He looked startled. “Ah, Michael. But, all of them, I guess.”
So Michael was a big brother. She should have seen that coming. “Great. Apology accepted. You’re welcome.” She started to rise.
“You’re mad at me? Hey—wait a minute.”
She waited.
“Look, I wasn’t trying to mess with your friend.” Chris looked away for a moment. “I wondered if you were doing anything after school. Gabriel’s got a soccer match, if you want to come watch—”
“Are you kidding?” She could barely hear over the heartbeat in her ears. Gabriel must have figured out who she was, must have told Chris. If he hadn’t known already.
“Ah ... no.” He scratched his head, pushing hair out of his eyes. “I’m actually pretty serious—”
“Look. Chris.” She dropped onto the bench again and gripped the edge of the table. “I’m not going to sleep with you,” she whispered fiercely, feeling her cheeks flush. “I’m not going to mess around with you under the bleachers. I don’t give hand jobs in the men’s room, or—”
“Wow. You like to get all this out of the way up front, huh?”
“Whatever you’re playing, someone else has tried it, okay?” she said. “I wish you all would just stop screwing with me and leave me alone.”
The table was dead silent for a moment.
Then he stood up. “Sure.” He paused. “You can have the lunch.”
She didn’t look at him.
He hoisted his bag onto his shoulder, then tossed some paper onto the table in front of her. “I’ll see you around, Becca.”
When he was gone, she looked up. An envelope sat on the tray, the corner stuck in the greasy cheese of the pizza.
She picked it up and opened it. Three twenties.
You’re probably thinking I owe you my life.
No. Just sixty bucks.
Becca stared at the money, feeling the crispness of the bills under