Beware of Bad Boy(22)

“It’s Casey,” she corrected heatedly.

“Yeah, whatever, anyways I’ll call you,” he said in that tone that meant I won’t really call you, I just want to get rid of you.

His meaning was obvious to me and probably anyone within earshot, but Casey must’ve been delusional. “You will?” she practically squealed. “You promise?” It was the disgusting baby-talk voice again.

Caleb was clearly annoyed, wanting her to be gone. “Promise.”

Casey went back to her table, but not before throwing me a venomous glare. I restrained myself from tripping her, just barely. It wouldn’t do to have Caleb think I was jealous. Which would be totally untrue and ridiculous. Getting jealous over a guy like Caleb would be like getting jealous over a swing at a public park. It was free for anyone to have a ride.

He must’ve sensed my inner turmoil from the look on my face, because he drawled, “Jealous?”

“How’d you know?” I asked in fake astonishment. “I so wanted her to sit on my lap and put her STD mouth on me!”

“I thought I was getting a lesbian vibe from you!” he joked, still seeming annoyed underneath the levity.

“So, are you going to call her?” If he said yes, my respect for him would suffer even more. Besides, I stupidly wanted him to say no. I was pretty positive he’d slept with that girl at some point and it bothered me despite my not wanting it to.

“I don’t even have her number.”

Good boy, I respected him more for his decision.

“Plus, I don’t usually offer seconds.”

And the dial on the respect meter just went back down.

I could hear that Casey bitch talking shit about me with some other girls in a booth somewhere behind me.

She looks like she got plastic surgery on her face, said one voice.

I bet she used to be a dog, said another.

He’ll totally dump her and call you, Casey, ‘cause you’re way hotter, said a third.

Fed up, I scratched the back of my head with my middle finger and heard a round of gasps. I smile serenely at Caleb, who was clueless to the verbal and nonverbal catfight he’d instigated.

Our food came a little later and he’d ordered us both huge hamburgers with steak fries. “I can’t eat all of this,” I told him. “I’d need two stomachs.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll eat whatever you don’t finish,” he assured then bit into his burger.

“That’s probably why you ordered us the same thing, huh?” His smile was answer enough.

I ate as much as I could and let him finish my food as promised. “Whenever we go out to eat, my mom makes me order a salad or chicken and rice. I haven’t had a good fattening restaurant burger in forever.” At home she made tasty food to make Scott happy, so I got to eat that, but she sometimes gave me a disapproving look if she thought I was eating too much.

“That is just wrong. You’re far from fat,” he remarked, eyeing my stomach area. I had the sudden urge to cover it with my hands.

Fighting a blush, I told him, “Yeah, but she’s paranoid that I’ll gain weight. Sometimes I wonder what’d happen if I did. She’d probably have a nervous breakdown or something.”

“Please don’t get fat. I like looking at your hot body too much,” he teased.

“Pig.” He had nothing to say to that, since it was true.

Caleb paid for our meal and we left the restaurant, walking in the opposite direction from where his car was parked. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see, princess,” he replied with a wink.

We crossed quite a few blocks before stopping in front of a tattoo shop called Donna’s Designs. “Are you serious? I can’t get a tattoo. My mom would drag my ass to the nearest place to get it removed.”

“Then you just have to get it somewhere she won’t see it. I think I know the perfect place.” He smacked me on the butt to make his meaning clear.

“Like I said, you’re a pervert.” I slapped him on the arm in retaliation.

“Anyways, you don’t have to get it today. You can just look at some designs.”

This made me feel better and I followed him inside. There were a couple artists working on tattoos and one of them glanced up at our entrance. “Hey, Caleb, are you here for that tongue piercing?”

“Nope, Donna. This is Gianna. She’s here to get my name tattooed on her ass.” He said it with a straight face and I pushed him. Donna laughed and went back to the guy she was working on. She was a few years older than us, pretty with black hair to her shoulders and colorful tattoos going up one arm.

“You’re a pervert, Caleb,” she said. See, I was right!