Page 76 of Stardusted
He’d known. He’d used it. He’d weaponized my infatuation with him to get answers.
Talk about a blow to the ego. It cleared the lingering fog from my brain.
“I need to talk to you,” I said, proud that my voice came out level.
“Yeah?” His eyes narrowed a fraction. “What about?”
I flicked a glance at the woman at the bar, who was doing a terrible job pretending not to eavesdrop. “Privately.”
His eyebrows lifted further, and something flashed across his expression. Something that could’ve been triumph. Maybe even relief.
Like he’d beenwaitingfor this.
I faltered, suddenly uncertain, but it was too late to back out now. I’d already lit the fuse.
“Okay. Sure.” He searched my face before flipping the cleaning cloth over his shoulder and drawing himself up to his full height.
Feeling at a disadvantage with him towering over me, I rocked onto my heels and shoved my hands into my apron pockets. I couldn’t read a damn thing in his expression as he drummed his fingers on the bar and gave me that too-polished bartender’s smile. No teeth, all professionalism.
“So, um, where?” I mumbled. When had my throat gotten so dry?
“Give me five minutes,” he said, inclining in his head and starting to turn. He spoke over his shoulder. “I’ll meet you out back.”
Out back meant the employee break area. Picnic table, dumpsters, low visibility.
Great.
The perfect spot to tackle a bartender. Not literally. Well—maybe perfect for that, too. Not that I should be thinking about tackling Skyat all,considering?—
I shook myself.
I’d tell Sandy I was squeezing in my fifteen-minute break. The dinner rush was late anyway. My insides buzzed with anticipation.
I was doing this. I was about to accuse my crush of manipulating me. Possibly stalking me.
I might even say the wordaliens.
What if I was wrong?
I swallowed the rising nausea and nodded once. I whirled away—and nearly collided with a pair of customers heading to the bar. The man stumbled back, and the woman clutched her purse.
“Sorry,” I muttered, ducking my head and beelining for the back. IsworeI heard Sky stifle a chuckle, and I ground my teeth.
I wasn’t wrong.
Five minutes from now, Sky Acosta wouldn’t know what hit him.
Hopefully.
Four minutesand thirty seconds later, I shoved open the back door. Its hinges shrieked like they were auditioning for a horror film, emitting a screech that bounced off the cinderblock walls and echoed into the parking lot beyond. It did great things for my already shredded nerves.
Huffing, I sidled from the entrance and scanned the area. Empty. The door shut with a thud behind me, sealing off the kitchen’s racket. Leaving me alone in the storm.
No one lingered beneath the lean-to. No smokers. No line cooks on their break. Just the rustling hush of the wind and the rain drumming on the shelter’s metal roof.
Lightning flickered somewhere out of view, followed by a low rumble of thunder. Wind swirled around the building’s side and slapped mist across my face. I wiped it away and moved to the picnic table, checking for wet spots before I perched on the edge and folded my arms.
Another bout of nerves twisted up my belly, and I tapped my toes, pushing the doubt away.
