The Sophomore (College Years 2)

“Okay. Sure.” She nods. Swallows hard. “See ya.”

She leaves.

They all look at me.

“What the fuck was that about?” Caleb asks, always the no nonsense one.

“Just their usual banter and shit,” Eli says, rushing to my defense. “No big deal, right, Jackson?”

“Right,” I say, taking a giant drink of my Cherry Pepsi.

But they’re probably all on to me. Fuck it.

I sort of don’t care. Would they really give me a bunch of shit if they found out Ellie and I have hooked up? Maybe. Caleb would for sure, but only because he doesn’t want to lose me as his last single friend.

We talk. About all sorts of things. Mostly football. I don’t say much. Just nurse my Cherry Pepsi, my eyes tracking Ellie’s every movement when she comes into view. She’s helping customers. Bringing them whatever they requested. Clearing their tables. Laughing and joking with a group of guys.

That makes the hair on the back of my neck rise up.

My number is called first and I go to the counter to pick up my food, waiting as they grab a couple of containers of ranch for me.

I smell Ellie before I actually see her.

“Didn’t expect you to come in so early,” she murmurs as she sidles up next to me.

I flash her a quick smile. “The guys wanted to come.”

“And you didn’t?” The disappointment on her face is obvious.

I hate that I put it there.

“Like I mentioned earlier, someone kept me up late last night.” I reach out, tugging on the end of her braid, my fingers brushing against her chest.

The disappointment is gone, just like that. “I’d tell you I’m sorry, but I’m not.”

“Aren’t you feisty tonight?”

She grins before she turns and walks away, leaving me hanging. I watch her go, my gaze on her ass. I need to get a better look at that ass. Naked. Maybe tonight.

“Hey! Your ranch?”

I glance over at the guy behind the counter who’s holding out two small containers toward me. I take it from him and set them on my tray. “Thanks.”

I head back to the table in a daze, Eli walking in the opposite direction, passing by me to get his food. He sees my face and starts laughing, the prick.

“You’re so fucked,” he calls to me.

Damn. I think he’s right.

It’s when we’re almost finished with dinner that I spot Carson, the fucker, here eating again. He was just here last night. Why is he back?

I know why. The second he leaves the counter after making his order—and he came by himself—he’s cruising straight toward Ellie, who’s on the far side of the restaurant, cleaning a cluster of tables after a big group left. I watch him touch her arm to get her attention, my blood heating when she turns to face him, a smile on her face when she realizes it’s him.

My gut churns, watching them talk. Ellie seems pleased to see him. He says something and she smiles. He says something else and she laughs.

What the fuck was that all about?

“Hey.” Eli nudges me in the ribs to get my attention. “You all right?”