“I have a few more tables I have to get out,” I manage to say, stumbling over more than half my words. “Why?”
“I’ll be here. Just send out your messenger girl to let me know and I’ll meet you out back again. Bring the knives—I’ve got some cutting to do,” he says, licking his lower lip, then biting it before he pushes away from the counter and walks out of the kitchen.
This is fucking insane.
He’s drunk.
No way.
No way in hell am I doing this.
I roll my shoulders before rubbing the sweat off the back of my neck. Reaching down, I adjust myself, praying that my dick will stop getting hard, then go back to watching the fry basket.
And no matter how hard I try to think of something else, I can’t.
Because these aren’t just any fries.
They’re his.
Chapter Seven
Xavier
Reluctantly, I leave the kitchen, and Amos, but if I hang around too long I risk not only making the guys wonder where I’ve got to, but the wrath of the waitress who seems to have taken a strong disliking to me.
I’m pretty sure I’ve already pissed her off by coming back here, so there’s no sense in riling her up even more and having her call the cops or some shit. I like this place, it has everything I could possibly want; good food, a semi-friendly atmosphere, and most importantly, my favorite form of entertainment.
Wandering out of the kitchen, I grin at the waitress who’s giving me a death glare from her spot behind the counter. Suzie is standing next to her, glancing nervously between the two of us. I give her a short nod and make my way back over to the booth where Shane and Simon are waiting and talking amongst themselves.
“Miss me?” I joke as I slide in and rejoin them.
“What kept you?” Shane asks.
I shrug and smirk at him. “Just having a bit of fun.”
“Poor kid,” Simon remarks, but his tone is full of amusement rather than genuine sympathy.
A few minutes later, our idle banter is interrupted by the arrival of a plate of fries and a scowling waitress. I glance up at her and take a peek at her nametag which says Katy.
“Thanks,” I tell her and notice her brief surprise. Ha, I’m guessing she wasn’t expecting me to have manners. Mom raised me to be polite to others, but when and where I choose to use them depends on my mood, and I’m sensing I’ve pushed my luck too much tonight with her. Tomorrow is another day, and I don’t particularly want her to throw us out before I’ve eaten.
I’ve ordered more than what’s on the menu, and while I chew my fries I watch the kitchen doors out of the corner of my eye, waiting for Amos to resurface for his next break. I wonder if he’ll duck out like he did before, or whether I’ll see his bolder side. So far, all Amos has done is back down and slink away like a cat. I want him cornered, I want him feral, and I want him to bite back… I want to see him wild and out of control for once.
Squirting a small helping of ketchup onto my plate, I pick up one of the fries and dip it into the sauce before taking a bite. It’s hot, and my tongue tingles at the slight burn. Grabbing my shake, I place the straw between my lips and suck up a mouthful of the thick, cool drink to sooth the sting.
I swirl the straw in the cup and have another sip. Lost in thought, I tune out all the sounds around me as I ponder over the look in Amos’ eyes when I ran the blade along his skin. I’m not sure who was more surprised at what I did, him or me.
Reluctant as I am to admit it to myself, it’s not the first time I’ve thought of tearing him apart for my pleasure… and his for that matter. Shaking myself out of my thoughts, I refocus on my friends and my surroundings, and continue eating. The post-drinks rush of customers from the local bars has slowed down, and it’s just us and a few stragglers left at this point.
Amos still hasn’t surfaced from the kitchen to take his break and I’m beginning to get antsy and restless. It’s taking a lot of self-control to not seek him out again, but I can’t keep abandoning my friends to pursue him. It’s moving beyond the games I usually like to play with him, and venturing into unknown territory. Regardless of my discomfort, I won’t show him weakness, and I refuse to lose face in front of anyone, not even myself.
“You alright there, Xavier? You’ve gone quiet,” Simon comments, noticing I haven’t spoken in a while.
“Fine, just trying to eat,” I respond with a grin, and picking up another sauce-covered fry, I fling it at him.
“Hurry up, I need to get back before my dad locks me outta the house again,” he says, rolling his eyes.
We have a lot of freedom, a perk of being raised with the privileges we did, but his dad is an asshole. “I can’t believe he still enforces that curfew bullshit.”