“WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU?” Pete, Dean’s roommate, nudges Posey when she doesn’t laugh along with the rest of us at a video Brad played on his phone. The restaurant is pretty empty except for us. That’s probably a good thing since we’re not exactly quiet.
And it’s driving Zeke crazy. Every time I glance his way after somebody bursts out laughing, I see the way he cringes. It’s enough to make me laugh some more-though I’m sure he’ll punish me for it when we get home, which is more like punishment, anyway.
Nobody would guess he has a sense of humor without knowing him the way I do.
But you’re not supposed to know him that way, right? Right. I have to remember that. It’s so hard sometimes, trying to keep track of what I can and can’t let people know.
Posey tries to play it off, but not without glancing at me first. Nothing. I guess I’m distracted.”
“Sure, you have that presentation at the end of the week.” Pete’s trying hard to win her over, it’s obvious. Now he’s trying to show an interest in the thing that interests her. I exchange a look with Zoe, and we have to look down at the table before we start laughing.
“Oh yeah, that too.” Zoe pouts. “I’m going to be so sad when I don’t have an excuse to see you guys anymore.”
“Just because we won’t have class together anymore doesn’t mean we can’t be friends.” I reach out and squeeze her hand. “Besides, it’s a small school. I’m sure we’ll see each other on campus all the time next semester.”
“Which classes are you taking?” We start talking about that while the guys pick at what’s left of an appetizer platter. Big surprise, they ate most of it. But we have to look good in the dresses we bought, too, and I, for one, don’t need to shove any more boneless wings in my mouth.
Posey’s still pretty quiet, though. Part of my attention is on her, no matter how I try to ignore her pensive expression. She keeps tapping her fingers on the table, chewing her lip. And more than once, I’ve caught her looking toward Zeke, sitting at a table for two on the other side of the dining room. He’s not paying attention to her, focusing on his burger and onion rings instead.
I would call her out on it, but that would only make things more awkward. Especially with Dean, and we both know his feelings toward Zeke. And vice versa.
I lean in closer to Posey. “Come to the bathroom with me,” I whisper before grabbing my purse and standing. I need her on my side right now. We head back, with me passing Zeke on the way. All he does is exchange a look with me before going back to his food. But he’s not fooling anybody. I know he’ll be watching the table while listening out for any signs of trouble from me. I wonder if he ever lives in the moment without having to question or worry.
As soon as we’re alone in the otherwise empty bathroom, I fold my hands like I’m praying. “Please, can you drop it?”
“I’m sorry, you’re my friend, and I don’t like-”
“I’m telling you, there’s nothing wrong. For some reason, my dad is more paranoid than ever,” I whisper. “That’s why he has Zeke teaching me to defend myself. And that’s the entire story. And nobody’s said anything, but I’m wondering if that’s why my dad didn’t want me to come home for Thanksgiving. Because there’s something bad happening, or there was.”
Her shoulders sink a split second before she sighs. “I didn’t think about that. That does make sense. But you’re going home for Christmas, right?”
“Yeah, as I said, I guess whatever it was blew over. Unless he has another surprise in store for me, and we’re going someplace else for the holidays. I don’t know. But I swear, there’s nothing shady or sketchy going on.”
She reaches out for a hug I gladly give her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make it seem like I was-”
The door bursts open, and Zoe appears, flushed and out of breath. “Come quick. They’re going to fight.”
“What?” I push my way past the girls and run out to the dining room. The tables are empty now.
“Outside,” one of the servers tells me, pointing at the door leading to the parking lot. I make a run for it, getting outside in time to see Zeke and Dean standing face-to-face, fists clenched.
“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” Zeke warns in a low, dangerous growl. “Why don’t you step off, little boy, and go back to eating your food?”
Dean is stone-faced, his eyes glittering. “You fucking hit her, didn’t you? You’re calling me a little boy? When you’re the one putting bruises on her?”
I whirl around to face Zoe. Her face is deep red. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.” Great. There I was, thinking Posey would be the problem, and it was Zoe who opened her big mouth the second we were away from the table. I should have asked them both to come to the bathroom with me.
At the same time, it’s not her fault. It’s probably Dean’s. I can’t imagine Zeke would start anything with him unprovoked. “Stop it, right now!” I shout, marching over to them. “This is stupid. Dean, you don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”
“And you would defend him?” he demands, red-faced and spitting. “Are you fucking serious? Or are you that brainwashed?”
“Don’t talk to her that way,” Zeke snarls, getting in his way so he can’t see me without craning his neck. “This is between you and me, asshole. And it’s been coming for months.”
“Damn right,” Dean agrees, taking off his hat and tossing it to the ground. Oh my God, he thinks they’re going to fight.
And so does Zeke, who is now stripping off his jacket. It’s like a nightmare. I’m standing here, watching this unfold, and I don’t seem to be making any difference in the situation. I’m powerless. I might as well not be here-ironic because this is all supposed to be about me.
“Please, don’t do this!” I try to force my way between them, facing Zeke, shaking him in a desperate attempt to get him to look at me. If he would only look at me, I might be able to calm him down. Now some of the waitstaff are standing on the other side of the glass doors, and one of them is holding a phone to record what happens. Terrific.
“You need to get out of the way.” Brad takes hold of my arms and pulls me back like he’s afraid I’m going to get caught in the crosshairs once fists start to fly. It’s all happening so fast, I don’t know what to deal with first.
“Get your hands off me,” I snap, fighting to get myself free.
“Just let them get it out of their systems.”
“I can’t do that.” When he won’t let me go after, I try again to break free, and he leaves me with no choice- especially when Dean shoves Zeke hard enough to knock him back a step. All Zeke does is laugh, but it’s a dangerous sound. Scary enough to make the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
And that’s why I stomp on Brad’s instep as hard as I can. He howls, probably more in surprise than pain, but it’s enough to loosen his grip on my arms. I pull the right one free and drive an elbow into his sternum. This time, he doubles over, the wind rushing out of his lungs all at once. It’s the most basic move, but at least I now know it’s successful.
“Stop, stop!” I throw myself between them, my back to Dean. “Please. Would you look at me? You know this isn’t right. You can’t do this.”
“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do.” I don’t even know if he hears me or knows it’s me begging him. He’s locked on Dean. “He knows what’s coming to him.
He’s been begging for this.”
“Come on, then,” Dean mocks. “Or do you want your girlfriend here to fight your battles for you?”
“That’s enough.” I turn around, ready to murder him. I hardly even recognize him right now. He’s not the sweet, almost goofy guy who always has to make jokes. He wants blood. Zeke’s blood.
He has no idea who he’s dealing with, though, and that’s the problem. “He’ll seriously hurt you,” I whisper urgently. It’s not like I want to offend his male pride or whatever, but it’s the truth, and he deserves to know it.
Dean’s face falls a little, and I know it was the wrong thing to say-though if it stops a fight from breaking out, was it? “So that’s really how it is?”
“Yeah. It is,” I say, my heart sinking. I don’t think we’re talking about the fight anymore. Not entirely.
His jaw tenses and his nostrils flare like he wants to explode, but he manages to hold himself back. “Fine. Got it. You’re not worth the effort.” He spits on the ground close to Zeke’s feet before grabbing his hat off the ground. “For lunch.” He tosses a handful of twenty-dollar bills on the pavement before shooting me one last look.
A look that brings only one word to mind: hatred. He hates me. Was he ever who I thought he was?
And when Zeke growls behind me, I realize I’m in trouble with him, too. Can I ever win?
“We’re going to talk when we get home about embarrassing me in front of people,” he warns. “I think we should head in that direction now.”
I can only brace myself for what I know is coming-even though I doubt there’s any way I can prepare for his wrath.