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“The more that go, the better chances we have at survival,” I allowed, trying to temper back my grin.
“Yeah, and you paid last time. So I’ll pay this time.”
My grin disappeared. “I didn’t agree to that.”
“It’s a good thing I’m not asking.”
I locked the doors as she tried to open hers. She could be stubborn all she wanted, but that didn’t mean I was letting my babysitter pay for my atrocious snack bills. Six-foot-four didn’t mean I ate a handful of crackers and called it good.
“Ladies?” I raised my eyebrows at Zariah and June, in the back. “What do we want?”
Zariah didn’t hesitate. She immediately listed out exactly what she wanted, a greasy hot dog off of an equally greasy roller, every type of topping they could’ve possibly had, the hard salt and vinegar chips that made your nose hairs curl, and the biggest size slurpee, an unholy mixture of every kind of flavor they had.
I shook my head. “You’ve been hanging around hockey players too long.”
“I’m making up for the shit conference food.”
“Okay—run that by me again. What kind of chips?” I asked. “You wanted a hot dog, with the toppings, and…?”
Piper flashed her phone. “Already wrote it down.”
“That implies you’re going in.” I narrowed my eyes. “And you’re not paying.”
With a shrug, Piper flipped up the car lock and stepped outside, all long legs and smug smiles. I muttered under my breath. At least I knew I could beat her to the cash register. Piper leaned over the car and smiled expectantly at June. “What did you want?”
“I can’t eat gas station food.” June sighed. “I’ve been breaking out, and this will tip me over the edge.”
“June,” Zariah said, a firmness to her voice.
“We can get anything you want,” Piper sang, motioning towards the gas station.
“Oh…guys…I don’t know…”
I unclipped my seatbelt. “Just think about it and text me when you think of something. You don’t have to figure it out now, but if something comes to you—”
“The biggest root beer they have,” June blurted out. “Like the biggest. The sprinkled donuts with the pink icing—oh my god—I haven’t had those in years. And a big bag of off-brand hot chips and lime juice and—oh my god—the honey mustard pretzels? The onion and garlic ones? They’re so messy and they always got all over the paperwork and it always drove Xavier crazy—crazy—” She fumbled on the last word as her eyes welled up with tears.
“Don’t even worry about it,” Piper hurried to say. “We’ll get the pretzels!”
Zariah pulled June in for a quick hug, and I slipped out of the car just as fast.
“We’re on it,” I confirmed.
And when I said that, I meant me. I was on it. As in my wallet and my wallet alone. Not Piper’s credit card. But the second my RA burst through that door and didn’t hold it open for me, I knew what she was thinking. She wanted to beat me to the cash register. Fat fucking chance. Like she could beat me.
“Holy shit,” the cashier exclaimed when I crashed through the door. “Adam Russell?! You’re Adam Russell!”
“In the flesh,” I confirmed and made my way to the cool glass, protecting all the drinks.
“What are you doing here?!”
Trying to grab everything I could think of that the girls wanted.
Wait. What the hell did they want?
My mind drew a blank, trying to think of exactly what Zariah asked for, and then June, and then what I wanted. Shit. Piper’s sneakers squeaked on the linoleum and I could hear her grabbing and going, back and forth across the aisles.
What did June say?
