I look back at the burly man and smile. “Really? You should convince one of them to say, ‘Lou, I am your father.’”
She cocks her head. “Cute, but actually that line is misquoted. It’s not ‘Luke, I am your father,’ but simply, ‘I am your father.’ So many good twists in Star Wars, but that line, even after watching it over and over, still sends tingles down my spine. It feels like a lie, like it’s just part of his sick mind games, but Darth Vader is speaking the truth and he knows it will wound Luke and cause him to question everything.”
My lips twitch. “You really are a movie nerd.”
“The best.” She toys with her pencil. “My favorite line of Darth Vader’s is ‘You don’t know the power of the dark side. I must obey my master.’ You can taste the fear in his voice. You see his internal struggle and how, maybe, sometimes, the light still calls to him, yet he can never go back.” She laughs. “Hey, stop. You’re gaping at me. Okay, fine, I geek out over the franchise, which really means I’m in hell, ranking the movies in my head, considering the debatable cuteness of aliens clearly designed for market reasons only, being tortured by the painfully obvious plot holes that drive me insane. Tyler loves them too. He’s just as much of a geek as I am.”
I just look at her. Damn. She’s so fucking… “I’m amazed by you. Rank them for me.”
“You aren’t even ready for this conversation. Have you watched them all?”
I shrug. “Not sure if I caught the last couple.”
“Who are you?” She gives me a horrified look.
I laugh. “Football takes up most of my time.”
She scoffs. “You don’t deserve to hear what I think until you’ve seen every last movie in chronological order, not in the order of release date. Lots of debate about that, but that’s the camp I’m in.”
I let out a long sigh, and just to annoy her… “We really should have gone with Star Wars. You could write us an essay with your eyes closed.”
Her color deepens. “Sadly, you had to pick the right number! So now it’s some stupid romance!”
I laugh.
She watches me, her aquamarine gaze lingering on my face until she clears her throat and looks down at the table. “Are you sad you don’t have friends at Lou’s?”
“Not at all. I’m on a date.”
Her eyes widen. “No you’re not, Cold and Evil. This is a school-related activity!”
“You’re wearing makeup.” She is. Her lashes are long and curled, her cheeks rosy—or maybe she’s blushing—and instead of that glittery red lipstick she’s been wearing, I see shiny pink lip gloss. Lipstick? Whatever they call it.
My lips twitch at her outrage and she slowly softens, her face brightening until she grins. “A girl can wear makeup and it not mean a thing except she wants to feel pretty. And if I had social media, I’d totally tag you with me just to piss off your buddies.”
Sighing, my head goes back to yesterday. “I saw your locker. I’m sorry for it.”
I hate how her face gets that faraway look on it and her shoulders hunch over. “It’s mostly gone. I came in today and it looks like the staff had scrubbed even more.”
Ah… “Chance and I went back into the school after practice yesterday. He scraped the last of it off with a scouring pad. Apparently it was in permanent marker and the janitor had a hard time.”
Her shoulders shift, fidgeting.
“It was Chance’s idea.”
“Whatever. Let’s not bring him up.”
Lou sets down our food and walks away.
She digs into her fries, popping one in her mouth, and I watch. She points at my plate. “Don’t let it get cold.”
Right, right—focus on the food, not Ava.
Okay, how am I going to covertly get these tomatoes off?
“So, you know my middle name. What’s yours?”
“Knox.” I grin. “And before you ask for my first name, I’m not telling. See if you can figure it out.”
“Let’s see. Maximilian? Eugene?”
I bark out a laugh.
“Megalodon?”
“You think I don’t know what that is?” I pop an eyebrow. “I’m not a nerd like some people I know”—I smirk—“but I’m smart enough.”
“Okay, hotshot, what is it?”
“Extinct species of shark that lived over three million or so years ago. Believed to be related to the Great White. And no, that is not my first name, but you’re funny.”
“Richard? Dick for short, definitely.”
“I have an uncle with that name.”
“Fort? Yep, that’s it. You’re a big stone building that holds all the gold and no one can get inside.”
I take a bite of my burger, gag a bit at the tomatoes, chew it down, and wipe my mouth. “Nope. Forget me. Tell me something about you.”
Because Ava…shit, I want to know everything.
She thinks, her brow wrinkling a little.
“Tell me about your first kiss,” I blurt and then immediately wish I hadn’t. Despite my joke earlier about this being a date, it isn’t.
She studies me, eyes lingering over my lips. “You first.”
I take a sip of water. “Fourth grade. Her name was Cissy Meadows and she was the fastest runner on the playground, even the guys. She challenged me to a race at recess and I beat her. She was so pissed.” I laugh at the memory. “She started bawling her eyes out and I felt so bad for her, I laid one on her lips. No tongue. Really just wanted her to stop crying.”
“Did she?”
I grin. “She followed me around for the rest of the year begging me to do it again.”
She narrows her eyes. “And you did.”
“Yeah, lots of times. First girlfriend I guess. By sixth grade, she moved away. Don’t know what ever happened to her. Nice girl.”
“Ah, the early, charmed love life of Fort Knox Grayson.”
I toss a fry at her. “When was yours?”
She mulls it over, and somehow I feel like I’ve done something wrong. It’s just a kiss question, which from me is ironic as hell considering I don’t even enjoy kissing on the lips anymore.
“You don’t have to tell me.”
She shakes her head. “No, it’s cool.” Looking down at her plate, she says, “I was maybe twelve, right before Tyler was born. I was in my room—we had an apartment then, with Tyler’s dad. It was a great room, though it was smaller than my dorm here, and I had posters of Taylor Swift and Katy Perry on the walls. I fancied myself a future pop star.” She inserts an eye roll. “Mama had gotten me this karaoke machine from the Goodwill and I was singing when Cooper came to tell me to shut it off.”
My hands clench. “Tyler’s dad?”
She nods. “Mama was trashed and had gone to bed earlier. I knew I shouldn’t have been up and making noise.” Her face pinches. “He was a tall man, burly and mean, but he thought he was handsome. He told me to go to bed and I hopped to it. He pulled the covers up, leaned down, and kissed me on the mouth…” Her voice trails off.
“You don’t have to—”
“No, I want to tell you. It helps, you know, in an odd way. Makes it real.” She sighs. “His breath smelled like cigarettes and liquor. He stuck his tongue in my mouth and his hands…they…I felt them trying to get under the covers.”
Revulsion creates goose bumps on my arms. I picture her, small and young and afraid.
She blinks rapidly. “I kneed him in the nuts and screamed my ass off. The walls were thin in that dump, and maybe he was scared Mama would get up or the neighbors would call the police, or maybe he just chickened out. Either way, he left the room. Honestly, living how we did, I was lucky nothing horrible ever happened to me, which is why the keg party is so frustrating. I protected myself all those years only to be helpless hanging out with a bunch of rich kids.” She plucks at her napkin. “All in all, it could have been worse with the things Mama did for extra cash. Since the moment she left us, all I’ve wanted is to dig myself out of where I came from and find my own way. Be independent, go to college, get a real job, take care of Tyler. Big dreams for a twelve-year-old.” She grimaces. “Dang, I kind of killed the conversation there. Sorry.”
The muscles in my shoulders have tensed, and I roll my head back and forth. Twelve. Fucking twelve years old.
“What happened to him?”
“Cooper? He and Mama left a few days after Tyler was born. Dumped us at the group home. Mama was Catholic, although she never took me to Mass. I owe the nuns for any religion I have. Those two leaving was the best thing that ever happened to us.” She waves her hands. “Topic change! I want to know about this rumor that you only have sex from behind.” She waggles her eyebrows and my body heats, tightening. “Well?”
“Who wants to look at my face?” I say the words lightly, but underneath…
“You’re beautiful,” she murmurs. “Hello, Tawny with the red claws—she was all over you yesterday.”
“I don’t want Tawny.” That ship sailed last year.
She shoots me a furtive look while she chews on a fry. “Oh? Who are you banging on the regular this school year, then?”