Page 13 of Wylder and the Almost Rockstar
“Stop talking, Becks.” Nicky shook his head, turning to Wylder. “You start talking. What are you doing here? You didn’t get kicked out… did you?”
“I didn’t get kicked out, but thank you for immediately jumping to that conclusion.” Wylder marched back to the fridge for more pizza.
“That’s probably really old.” Becks scooped up the remnants of her first attempt at putting something other than chips or cookies in her stomach since leaving school hours ago.
“Ew, no, don’t bend over.” Wylder threw her hands up again. “Nicky, make him put clothes on.” She stamped her foot on the floor.
“Becks, pants, please.” Nicky nodded toward the laundry room.
“Fine.” Becks tossed the old pizza into the trash on his way out of the room.
Nicky eyed Wylder. “You sit. I’ll make you something edible. Throw that away. It’s fuzzy, for crying out loud.”
“Who lets pizza sit in the fridge so long it gets fuzzy?” Wylder scowled at her oldest friend as he moved around the kitchen, pulling leftover Chinese containers from the fridge.
“So… what’s new?” Nicky set the food in the microwave and gave her a pointed look.
“I’m here for Logan.”
“Logan Cook?” Nicky arched his brow in surprise. “I thought we hated the Cook twins?”
“This one grew on me.” She shrugged. “He’s dealing with a PR nightmare, and he hasn’t been back at school since that stupid video of us went viral. He won’t answer my texts. Even my threats.”
“So you broke out of school to what, drag him back against his will?”
“No. I have permission to be here, believe it or not. I’m supposed to bring him back. Nashville’s not good for Logan. He needs school. He needs to know he can come back, that we can fix this.”
“Better?” Beckett came back in wearing jeans and a smile.
“Slightly.” Wylder smirked, reaching for the plate of warmed potstickers and lo mein noodles Nicky offered her.
“Hey, where’s mine?” Becks sat on the barstool next to her and snagged a potsticker.
“You’re seriously hungry? You hoovered eighteen pounds of noodles for dinner.” Nicky shook his head.
“You know how it is with me and Chinese food.” Becks rubbed his flat stomach. “I’m always hungry again in an hour.”
“Fine, we’ll all have some noodles and then figure out what we’re going to do with the Wyld Child.”
* * *
Wylder smelled buttery pancakes. Hot sausages. Coffee. Becks was right about Chinese food. It just didn’t stay with her very long.
She rolled over with a groan. Leave it to Nicky to use her favorite foods to get her out of bed long before she was actually awake.
She threw on a robe she’d left in her room and made her way downstairs with bleary eyes.
“Morning, sunshine,” Becks crowed.
“Stupid morning people,” Wylder muttered, making her way toward the coffee pot.
“It’s noon, Wylds.” Nicky peered over his coffee cup.
“It’s the middle of the freaking night.”
“No, that was last night, kiddo. You know, when you broke into my house, and I had to go all Kung Fu on you—before I realized it was you.” Becks heaped pancakes and sausages onto a plate.
“Kung Fu Panda’s more like it.” Wylder sipped her coffee, squinting at the plate Becks held out for her. “Skye here?” She looked around for her cousin, the only one in Becks’ orbit who knew how to make pancakes. Or turn on the oven for that matter.
