Page 67 of Heart Strain

“That girl is so hyper. Wow,” I say to him.

He chuckles a little. “Aren’t all teenagers?”

I shrug because what the hell do I know? Some commotion at the table behind Jameson catches my attention, so I look over his shoulder. There’s a kid sitting there, laughing at the waiter at his table, and I can’t help but stare. The kid’s dressed in a purple blouse with some makeup on, but his blond hair is shaved on the sides with a flop thing happening on top. The waiter’s laugh draws my attention to him, and his huge smile makes me smile back as he walks to our table and says, “Hello, I’m Reilly, I’ll be your waiter tonight. Can I get you started with a drink?” He’s big and muscular, and even though he’s young, he could probably break me in half easily.

“I’ll take a coke,” Jameson says, then looks at me. “You want one, too?”

“Sure.”

The Reilly kid opens his mouth to speak, but a straw wrapper hits him in the cheek, and loud giggling comes from that kid in the purple blouse. Reilly shakes his head and says, “I’ll bring your drinks right out… after I murder my brother.”

I glance at the blouse kid, then back at our waiter and ask, “Brother?”

His eyes narrow and his jaw clenches. “Yes, he’s my brother.” The do you have a problem with that? is implied in his tone and the way he’s suddenly towering over me.

“Oh… that’s… awesome.”

He backs down a little, nods, then heads back toward the kitchen, but I see him flick his brother on the head on his way. His brother bats his hands off with a smile, then catches me staring, and I look away.

“What was that about?” Jameson asks.

“I think I insulted him and his brother,” I answer. “I didn’t mean to.”

Jameson wrinkles his nose. “How? You’ve barely said anything.”

I shrug because I feel like a jerk even though I didn’t mean anything by it. I was only surprised. That kid is gorgeous, guy or girl, doesn’t matter.

Jameson looks around, then spots the purple blouse kid glancing in our direction before he turns to me and asks, “Is that kid his brother?”

“I’m guessing yes.”

Jameson grins. “I guess our waiter is a little overprotective, huh?”

“Yep.”

Jameson laughs a little and reaches over to trace circles on the back of my hand. “I know you had a shitty day, baby. Do you want to go home now?”

I sigh and stare at my hand as he flips it over and starts playing with my fingers and rubbing my palm. “No, I’m sorry. Let’s eat and we can just go home afterward.”

“Okay. I can drop you off tonight, then pick you up in the morning.”

I wrinkle my nose at him. “I thought you wanted me to spend the night?”

“You said you wanted to go home, so I fig—”

“To your home, Foxy. Sorry, I don’t really think of my parents’ old place as home, but your place is…” I have no idea how to finish that sentence since anything I think of will only embarrass me.

“Okay, so we’ll go back to my place, then.”

“Good.”

“Here are your drinks. Do you know what you’d like?” Reilly says, setting our sodas in front of us.

Jameson asks me, “You good with the vegetarian pizza?”

“Perfect.”

Reilly asks, “What size would you like?”

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