The Assignment
Troy turned to his grandfather. “Where do you want to go, Nonno?”
Nonno. Italian for grandfather.
“McDonald’s.”
“I can take you literally anywhere, and you always choose the same place. Let’s change it up.”
“I like their ice cream. Sue me. And it’s where your grandmother and I used to go on Sundays after church. It reminds me of her.”
Who can argue with that?
Troy sighed. “Okay, old man. Whatever you want.” He turned down the road toward the plaza where the McDonald’s was located.
A bit of awkward silence passed before Troy put on some music. Frank Sinatra’s “Come Fly with Me” started playing.
“Well, at least you have good taste in music,” I said.
“Sinatra is cool…” He pointed his thumb toward his grandfather. “I play it for this guy.”
I smiled, leaning toward the front seat. “You like Sinatra, Mr. Serrano?”
“What’s not to like? He was the best. Nobody better than Old Blue Eyes.”
“I agree. They don’t make ’em like that anymore.”
When we pulled up to the drive-thru, Mr. Serrano hollered back at me. “You want a frosty, Aspyn?”
Frosty? I had to think for a second. He must have meant ice cream cone. “No, thank you.”
“She’s frosty enough,” Troy quipped, flashing me a mischievous grin through the rearview mirror.
Damn that smile. As evil as I’d always thought him to be, he was annoyingly handsome, even more so now than in high school.
Troy ordered an ice cream for his grandfather and a large fry for himself. Of course, he could eat whatever the hell he wanted and still look that good.
“You sure you don’t want anything?” Troy asked. “My treat.”
As of the last fifteen minutes or so, I had a splitting headache. Some caffeine would really hit the spot. I decided to take advantage of his offer.
“Actually, I’ll have a black coffee, but I can pay for it myself.”
His brow lifted. “No cream or sugar?”
“No.”
“Figures.”
My eyes narrowed as he ordered me a coffee.
As he drove around, I said, “What was that supposed to mean…figures?”
“You seem like a black-coffee type of person.”
After he stopped at the pay window, I asked, “How so?”
“You know…plain, bitter. But a lot of time’s passed since high school, so maybe you’ve changed. If you’d like to prove me wrong, I’m open to that.”
“You don’t know crap about me—then or now,” I said, anger heating my face. “You’re basing your judgment on things I did in defense of my friend. Things I did because of your actions.” I shoved three dollars in his face, but he wouldn’t take it.
He placed his hand briefly around mine and pushed it back. “Put your money away. You’re here because of me. You shouldn’t have to pay for anything.”
I crossed my arms and huffed in the back seat as Troy paid the cashier.
He pulled up to the pick-up window and a few seconds later passed a soft-serve cone to his grandfather. He placed the fries in his lap, and grabbed my coffee from the attendant.
Troy turned and handed it to me. “Are you seriously still mad because of something I did in high school?” he asked. “We’re pushing thirty. There are worse things to worry about in the world, you know?”
I shrugged. “You’re giving me an attitude and calling me plain and bitter. Sounds like you’re the one who needs to get over it.”
“Well, maybe I’ve been on defense because you’ve been looking at me like you want to kill me from the moment you recognized me.”
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t aware it was that obvious.”
He flashed his sparkling white teeth. “So, you do want to kill me…”
“No. That’s not what I meant. I just…” I let out a breath and stopped talking.
He pulled into a spot and put the car in park. Then he popped a fry into his mouth before turning to me and holding out his hand. “Let’s have a truce, okay? Might as well, since we have to spend four hours a week together.”
God. That sounded like a lot of time to have to deal with him. But I could certainly pretend to be cordial for my sweet client’s sake. I would do it for Mr. Serrano.
I finally took Troy’s hand and shook on it. “Fine.”
My traitorous body enjoyed the warm touch of his skin, and that made me disappointed in myself. It proved how instinctual physical attraction could be. Troy Serrano’s sex appeal had never been up for debate. Not then and not now. It was his soul that was questionable.
I was ashamed to admit that before Jasmine had started dating him, I’d actually had quite a crush on Troy. He was the quintessential popular football player. And I was exactly the type of girl who was invisible to guys like that. My head was stuck in the books, not up the asses of jocks. I never wore makeup or flaunted myself in skimpy clothes like Jasmine and many of the other girls did. But I still had eyes, and I was only human. When Jasmine talked about what it was like to be with him, I remember the ache of wondering what that might feel like. Then he hurt her and became Enemy Number One to me.