Page 67 of Stealing for Keeps
“Oh, nice.”
“What about you?” he asks. “How are you going to celebrate your ability to wear two shoes?”
“Oh…” I laugh lightly. “I don’t know. I’ll probably order takeout or something. My mom and sister are at rehearsals until late.”
His movements slow as he zips up his backpack and lifts it to his shoulder. “Do you want to come with us?”
“No. I’m not crashing your family outing.”
“Why not?” He shrugs. “My parents won’t care.”
“Thank you, but I’m fine.”
“How about tomorrow then?”
“Yeah, let’s meet up to come up with some more ideas.”
“Not that. Let me take you out to celebrate.”
I can’t explain the weird sensation in my stomach. Butterflies do flips and twirl around, stealing my breath and making me nervous.
“It’s really okay. I don’t feel much like celebrating.” I can tell my answer gives him pause, so I add, “People break their leg and tear all their ankle ligaments all the time. It’s no big deal.”
“Fine, then let’s meet up to talk art ideas tomorrow night over food. It’s not celebrating if we’re talking about school.”
“Fine.” Another short laugh escapes.
Austin’s mouth curves into a smile. He walks to the doorway and then pauses. “See you tomorrow.”
* * *
“This is the best milkshake I’ve ever had,” Austin says, eyes closed as he leans back in the booth across from me. His Oreo milkshake is gone, along with the burger and fries he ordered to go with it.
“That’s only because you haven’t had this one.” I point to the strawberry one in front of me. I got brain freeze and had to stop halfway through.
His brows lift in disbelief. “There’s no way strawberry is better than Oreo.”
I push my glass toward him, and he leans forward, rubbing his stomach like he couldn’t possibly eat any more, but then he drinks from my straw, gaze locked on me.
I wait for the verdict.
“That’s really fucking good.” The way his face lights up fills me with smug satisfaction.
“Told you.”
“I didn’t say it wasbetterthan Oreo.”
I cock a brow in challenge.
“It’s a tie,” he says, then takes another long drink.
When he tries to pass it back, I wave him off. “You can have the rest. I’m too full.”
“I guess that’s a no to dessert then?” he asks, smirking. He pulls out his wallet.
“I got it,” I say quickly. I picked this place, so it feels only fair.
“No way. I invited you. I’ll pay.”
