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“Uh—we’re on a road trip,” I replied to the cashier.
Root beer. June wanted root beer. I leaned down to grab one, but there was a perfectly manicured hand blocking my way. Piper grabbed the largest root beer at the bottom shelf before I even had a chance to figure out which one June wanted. I cursed under my breath and tried to grab the big bag of popcorn from her arms. “Stop boxing me out, ice princess!”
“Be a little faster and I won’t have to,” she quipped and ducked around me.
Goddammit.
“That’s not nice, Piper!” I told her, even as she bustled down one of the aisles.
“Adam would love to take pictures with you, if you want!” she called to the cashier.
My frown deepened, and I glanced off to the cashier behind the counter, a pimple-faced seventeen-year-old kid with the biggest smile in the world. Damnit. She found the perfect way to kneecap me in the race. I smacked the glass door back into place and returned to the counter.
Twenty or thirty photos later, the teenager was grinning ear to ear, practically bouncing on his heels. “We can’t wait for the Marrs rodeo. My friends and I—they’re not going to fucking believe this, they’re going to lose their shit—one of them has a Marrs Manwhore shirt, dude. He doesn’t wear it. He can’t wear it at school.”
I snorted. “Can’t imagine why.”
“We’re going to get beyond trashed at the rodeo,” he barreled on, rocking back and forth on his heels. “The whole weekend. It’s going to be great. You could hang out with us. We’re taking my mom’s car, there’s seven seats.”
Piper cleared her throat, approaching the counter. I helped her as much as she would let me with the junk food, but there was no denying the raised eyebrow and the look between us.
The kid was still talking a million miles a minute about his mom’s car. And as appealing as it sounded to be crammed in with some sweaty teenagers, still discovering deodorant, Piper had to know I wasn’t dreaming of taking him up on his offer.
“Drinking,” she mouthed, setting the last candy bar on the candy.
Oh, shit. Right.
The kid was definitely underage, and I completely ignored that.
“Uh—I mean—great that you’re going to the rodeo. Marrs support,” I corrected myself. “But there’s…pretty strict underage drinking rules on campus.”
Are there?
I had no idea. Ryan had strict rules for the teammates who couldn’t drink yet but before him and Coach Lawson took over, I won every drinking contest on campus before I turned twenty-one. But I did know if the kid was somehow recording the conversation, no one was going to be cool with me bypassing the high schooler looking to get shit-faced.
“Nice save,” Piper murmured.
“Do people on the street call you Marrs Manwhore?” the kid asked, starting to scan items. “Is that what the girls call you? Do they hang outside your door and say that? Do your teachers call you that? Can you say it for video?”
My reply was quick. “Nope.”
“Hey?” Piper nodded towards the gleaming aisles of gas station food. “Adam, you didn’t pick out what you want.”
“You haven’t grabbed anything either, ice princess.”
A blush touched her cheeks. “I’ll just munch on what everybody else has—”
She doesn’t have enough money. Got it.
“I’ll make you a deal,” I allowed, holding up my wallet. “I’ll let you give your credit card to the kid, in exchange, I’ll buy what you want.”
Piper gave me a long look. “And you mean that?”
“Scout’s honor.”
The cashier frowned. “Is this your girlfriend? I thought you didn’t do that.”
39
