“What’s wrong?”
“How did you—”
Rex chuckles and pulls me closer, wrapping his arm around my waist. “Your brows knit together when you’re worried.”
I try my best to smooth my forehead by spreading my eyebrows as far as possible. A lady walks by with her kid. The girl’s five, maybe six, and she’s staring. I must look like a freak in this bright dress making a weird face. I bite back a laugh. I’m being stupid. I should be flattered Rex notices little things about me. “They do not.”
“Yes, they do. You wear your heart on your sleeve, Piper. If anyone paid attention they’d see everything.”
No one pays attention to me. I’m not pretty enough, or rich enough. I’m like a shadow in the dark, merely existing until someone brighter comes into the room, and everyone’s brighter than me. “Like what?”
“Like how the tough girl act you put on at school is just that, an act. You walk with your head held high but clutch your books tight to your chest like your life depends on them. Your muscles tense and all color washes from your face when people touch you, even accidently. Yet, if you touch them first, you’re almost fine. At first, I didn’t see it but once Cooper told me about how you don’t like to be touched, I saw it every time.”
For the second time today, Rex takes my breath away. “You talked to Cooper about me?”
He shrugs. “From the first day we ran into each other, I knew you were different. You didn’t know who I was.”
I knew. Whispers of Rex’s arrival spread through the halls weeks before he came. Everyone wanted to meet him. Girls fanned themselves, saying how Rex would take them to New York or Paris when they dated. They’d giggle and go on and on about the life they’d have as the girlfriend of a country star’s son. I swear some of them even began planning their weddings in Martha’s Vineyard.
“Or maybe you did and didn’t care. Whatever the case, it put you on my radar.” Rex laughs but there’s a sadness in his eyes when they reach mine again. “Having a famous father means I have to be careful. People use me to get to him or further their own agendas all the time. I needed to make sure you weren’t that type of person.”
“And what type of person am I?”
“The kind who would rather sit alone under a tree during her free period at the end of the day than deal with the bullshit that is our school.”
I tear my gaze away from Rex’s gorgeous face, needing a moment to think. I look up at the same door I’ve walked through three days a week for the past two years. I take a deep breath and let it out through my nose.
Fuck. We’re here.
9
Rex
An over the doorbell chimes when I pull the door open, holding it to let Piper pass through first. Our fingers untangle as she walks by me, but I quickly claim them again once we’re both inside.
Logan stands behind the counter, staring, eyes bouncing from Piper to me. Back and forth more times than I’m comfortable with. He takes his phone out of his pocket, snaps a picture, then sets it on the counter. Piper pulls her hand from mine. I grit my teeth and walk toward him, my mood instantly soured. He’s probably gonna sell that photo to the tabloids for a few hundred bucks. That’s the only reason anyone randomly snaps pictures of me or my parents. Give it a week and people across the country will be talking about my new raven-haired girlfriend.
“What can I get you?” Logan asks with a mocking grin.
I don’t bother to smile but keep my tone light. “What’s good?”
Logan tips his head side to side. “I say our lobster roll, made with real lobster on a toasted bun, smothered in butter and our almost-famous dressing, but Piper will say the BLT.”
Neither sounds appealing. I’m a burger and fries kind of guy, but I’m not against trying something new, especially when I just found out one of my girl’s favorite foods. “I’ll take one of each.”
“Oh, I don’t need anything,” Piper chimes from behind me.
Somehow, she’s drifted towards the back of the room, near the door. Poor thing looks more uncomfortable than a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. We should probably take our food to go and eat in the park a few blocks over. She seems to do better when it’s just her and I. “We’ll take them to go. Add two Cokes to the order too.”
“Dude, Piper just said she’s not hungry. I’ll get you the lobster roll but not the BLT.” Logan writes a ticket then sticks it to a nail on the doorframe into the kitchen. A hand reaches out, grabs the paper, then disappears. “That’ll be eighteen-seventy-five.”
Piper, not fifteen minutes ago, said that she could eat, but I’m not about to explain myself. Logan’s not her keeper. Or mine. I’ll order what I want and get it because the customer’s always right. I cross my arms. “I want both.”
“I’m not stupid, Bro.”
“Never said you were, but if you think you are, I won’t argue.” I know I’m a jock—so to speak— but high school football players have a stereotype more so than hockey players. Logan’s brother, Cooper, lives up to this stereotype. Good looking. Dumb. And a pussy magnet, although he does well to keep that on the DL. It only makes sense that Logan’s all of that with a dash of fuck-the-world.
“Logan, it’s fine.” Piper steps into my peripheral vision. She drops her arms to the side and stands up tall, but red marks from her nails pepper her wrist. It’s obvious she has a history of self-harm; her tattoos do a shit job of hiding it. I hope I’m not pushing her too far out of her comfort zone.