Page 63 of The Sidekick

Do not do that, Tera. This isn’t that dramatic, and you don’t have to let anyone see it is to you. Just keep your cool and walk away.

I can feel Shade’s eyes boring into me as I take the phone back and walk away without a word.

I hear Max mutter something too low for me to hear, and Shade replies without any subtlety.

“Kiss my ass.”

Dang it, he used it, and I didn’t even get to see the look on Max’s face.

Shade catches up with me and clicks the remote for the car. I note the flashing lights on the BMW and glare at him.

“Where did you park my car? Off a cliff somewhere?”

He laughs loudly as if that’s the most hilarious thing he’s ever heard and opens the passenger door for me. Once he’s settled in on the driver’s side, he peels out of the parking lot like a jerk as Max and Trevor watch with narrowed eyes.

“That went well,” he says, slowing down to a more normal speed as we exit their view.

“What went well?” How could any of that train wreck have gone well? Is he just assuming because he wasn’t there?

“Making them jealous,” he replies calmly and turns the radio on. We discovered early on that we have a lot of the same taste in music, so I settle back to enjoy it as I glare at him.

“I don’t want them to be jealous. Besides, we aren’t even together. It’s obvious to anyone with eyes.”

“People see what they want to see. How did the apology go?”

“How do you know I apologized?” I cross my arms defiantly.

“Because we’re besties.”

“We are not besties. We’re frienemies.”

“Is that any way to treat your sidekick?” He keeps his voice calm while his lips lift into a grin.

I glare and end up blurting out everything that happened after he bailed out on me. I rant because Shade is comfortable with angry Tera, so I can dish it out to him all I want. It’s kind of nice, even if I end up feeling a little guilty afterward.

He listens and nods along with a thoughtful frown until I’m done. I wait expectantly for his advice. He remains quiet.

“Well? What should I do?” I finally snap.

“Don’t ask me, I’m shit at advice.”

“Evan!”

“Don’t call me that. It gives me hives.”

“Evan, Evan, Evan, Evan!” I shout just to be mean.

“We’re here,” he pulls into a parking spot with a tight jerk of the wheel, plastering me against my door.

By the time my frazzled nerves have settled, he’s opening my door for me.

“Where are we?” I ask breathlessly, determined to never say his real name again.

“Le Chique.”

“What? That’s Andi’s favorite… you didn’t.” I stare at him in dismay.

“I did,” he rebuts without a care in the world. Of course, it isn’t his shame to wallow in, so I’m sure he is fine.

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