Page 113 of Freckles

“Long black, no sugar?”

A tiny smile curves his lips. “That’s right. Make some horrendously sweet concoction for yourself if you’d like. My treat.”

I jerk into motion, putting the order through the register and turning to make it while he taps to pay. By the time I make it and turn around, he’s in a seat at the corner table.

When I bring the drink over, he catches my wrist. “Do you want to sit? I had this big speech prepared but now I can’t think of a single word.”

I sink into the seat at a right angle to him, palms flat on the table to stop myself from touching him.

“What Aidan told you…”

I tilt my head, brows pinching together. “Yes?”

Kincaid’s voice is clogged with emotion as he says, “I wanted you to understand, I would never have hurt you. It was just a—”

“Threat. I know.”

“I don’t think you do. He was the one who shared your ad with Ezra.”

My frown deepens, unsure why this is even on his radar. “He wasn’t who I thought he was, but I wish you’d talked to me rather than him. It should have been my judgement call to make.”

A new customer enters the café and I’m halfway to standing when Esther calls, “I’ve got it,” and leaps behind the counter, waving me back to my seat.

Kincaid pulls at his collar, shifting his shoulders. “It’s my fault he used you. Ezra told him I liked you, and he seized an opportunity to curry favour with my cousin and put me off my game.”

I duck my head, connecting the dots. Aidan had bumped into me in the student car park one morning, just weeks before he made the squad. Looking back, it seems likely he engineered it, already knowing I might prove useful.

The friendship was never as it seemed.

I pull my mouth down at the corners, still unsure why this is what we’re discussing. “I must broadcast a signal that attracts bad men.”

Kincaid pulls a face. “Seriously?”

“It’s the only explanation I’ve got.”

“Freckles…” He looks aghast at the suggestion. “You placed an online ad to auction your virginity. That’s your ‘signal.’ You’re not innocent and I don’t understand why you’d pretend to be. Mike isn’t judging you any longer. You’re awesome the way you are and if any ‘bad boys’ hassle you, please invite them to a private party with my fists.”

He picks up the coffee, warming his palms on the hot mug, eyes staring into the distance.

“If Aidan wasn’t the reason you left, then why?”

He doesn’t know. I’m not expecting it and don’t know how to react.

The true explanation forms in my head, but when I try to get the words out, a full-body tremor rocks me. “I have to get back to work,” I say instead. “Do you want another drink?”

“No, just…” His expression is panicked, and he reaches into the inside pocket of his tuxedo jacket. “Here,” he says, handing across a ticket. “We have a date tonight. I didn’t want you to forget.”

“A date?”

My voice is barely audible as I stare at the small chit. Entry to the winter formal back at Westlake.

“I know I’ve dropped out and you’ve changed high schools, but…” He shrugs. “Thought it would be fun to catch up with the old gang.”

“You dropped out?”

He frowns again, then slowly nods. I remember how still he used to hold his face, hiding his emotions behind a blank mask. Now, he’s animated. Still reserved but not frighteningly so.

“My uncle offered me a full-time job, and I accepted.”

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