Page 37 of Even Beneath the Stars

"Well, shit," Silas sighs. "Guess you get that one, too."

"Yesss! Final round!" Caroline exclaims eagerly, as invested now as I am.

Silas scoffs. "Well,youjust proved you're totally biased, so your vote no longer counts."

"You're the only one who's voted so far," Caroline points out.

"Like I said, seems like the smartest strategy."

"Okay, what's the last one?" I'm even more eager than Caroline. I'm the one with my "worst week ever" title at stake here.

"Number three…" Silas pauses dramatically.

And just then, the bell rings above the doorway and we all wave as a college-aged couple walks in. Thankfully, they're regulars, so they go and seat themselves.

"Number three," Silas repeats, totally drawing this out. "Discovering your charge's dreamy douche-canoe older brother uses 'Baby Shark' as his alarm clock sound. It goes off at five a.m. and he hits snoozeten times."

"Xavier would never have an alarm set for five a.m.," I interject at the same time as Silas makes a loud game-show 'you fail' buzzing noise.

"Errrnt!You officially did not have the worst week ever, Maggie LeClair."

"I totally did!" I argue. "That last one was bullshit."

"What? It was the least bullshit example. They used the actual rich douche-canoe brother in that scenario, therefore proving howyour specificsituation could,in fact, have been worse than it was."

"But that would never happen. Xavier—"

"Sorry," Silas shrugs, stuffing his phone back in his pocket. "Baby Shark trumps everything. It's like… an unspoken universal rule."

"That you just made up."

He ducks down to grab a can of soda from the smaller fridge under the counter. "Whatever. Rules are still rules."

"I had the worst week ever, Silas Carmichael; I don't care what your stupid Siri poll says."

"I believe you," Caroline backs me, and I love her a little more right now.

"Fine." Silas cracks the can open. "I'll concede." He takes a long swig, then lowers it. "So—what? You want me to rough up thisRockwell asshole?"

"What did Rockwell do now?" Beck Travers' familiar voice pipes in from the other side of the counter, and we turn to face him.

Thankfully, Beck stopped pursuing me a few days after he realized my disinterest in him wasn't just my version of playing hard to get. And he's been a lot more tolerable to hang out with since then. He's still equal parts shameless flirt and reckless dare-devil, and also, I've heard, usually the name that precedes trouble not just at Ocean Heights, but Sandy Haven in general.

We definitely travel in mostly different crowds. Beck mainly straddles the same circle as Silas—the wilder, more lawless, un-touchable crew—and the popular jocks. But there's something I like about him. I have a hunch there's more to him than he lets the world see.

"Travers. Whatsup?" Silas reaches out a fist and they bump knuckles.

Beck leans in and his dark hair falls over his face as he rests his elbows against the cash. "So?" His eyes bounce between Silas and me. "Why is Silas gonna pummel Rockwell?"

"He's not." I sigh." Xavier can be a decent guy… He's just a dick to me. With everyone else, he's pretty much your run-of-the-mill chizzle-jawed, confidence-oozing, swaggery billionaire."

"Fair assessment," Caro agrees.

"Well, minus the lobster-pants," I can't help adding. "Those are sorely lacking."

"Lobster pants?" Beck gives me a twisted scowl.

God, why does no-one else know about lobster pants?

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