Page 84 of Pleasure & Prey: Vol. 2

“At least I got you both on the same page about something.” Wren winks dramatically at me, and I roll my eyes hard enough I’m surprised nothing snaps. “I’ll give you a good tip for waiting on us. Promise.”

I waiver, thinking it over, even though I don’t really have a choice. With just me and Jeremy to wait on customers unless Martha needs to step in, I’d feel like shit for going home early. “It had better be a huge tip,” I say finally with a sniff, tugging the menus away from Cass. I turn on my heel and take them to my favorite booth in the corner without any more hesitation. But as they sit, I look them both over, surveying Cass in the daylight in public and getting a good look at his friend.

Or whatever Wren is.

“Are you sure this is okay?” I ask while busying myself with setting their menus in front of them. “What if someone recognizes you?” My own words have me glancing around the diner, but no one is looking our way.

“They won’t. They never do.” When I look back at him, Cass is resting his head on his hand and gazing up at me instead of his menu.

It makes me feel strange in a way I don’t quite understand. “Do you guys know what you want?” I don’t need to write their order down, unless they’re going to order everything on the menu with tons of customizations.

“I want chocolate milk and, uh, an order of your pecan pie pancakes? Those were the ones on that show, right?” Wren hands me the menu as his gaze searches my face, unabashed. “And before I leave, can I get a second order? My girlfriend would love them as much as I’d love to bring them home to her.”

“You’re only saying that because you’re competing with New Wren,” Cass murmurs with a glance back toward his friend. At my confused look, he adds, “New Wren is a cat. His girlfriend is cat-sitting for our other friends. He’s feeling a little inadequate.”

“As you should. Cats are better than people,” I reply without hesitation. “What do you want, Cassian?” His name feels strange on my tongue; like a dirty word or something illicit.

Like a secret.

“What’s your favorite thing on the menu?” It’s definitely not the answer I’m expecting, and I look away nervously when I realize Cass is still staring at me.

“Look away, Cass,” Wren sighs. “You’re being creepy.”

“I’m starting to think he only has one mode and it is, in fact, being creepy.” I’m not good at filtering myself today, but Wren gives an appreciative smirk. “My favorite thing isn’t on the menu. And you’ll hate it.” I don’t actually know if he will, but I say it anyway. With another glance around the diner, my shoulders fall in a relaxed shrug. Maybe Cassian is right. Maybe people really don’t recognize him.

It’s not like his parents are here to identify him, either. They left town less than a year after Carissa’s murder.

“Can I order it, anyway?” It only takes one look at his pretty blue eyes for me to relent, and I pluck their menus off the table before heading back to the kitchen. Jeremy is a step behind me, and from the corner of my eye, I see him look at my table in the corner.

“Do you know those guys?” he asks, seeming bored as he chucks his menus in the bin. “They seem talkative.”

“Nah,” I lie smoothly. “They just wanted to talk about the episode.” That gets a massive eye roll from Jeremy, who likes those kinds of people just as little as I do. But it’s an easy lie, and it gets his curiosity away from Cassian and Wren.

It turns out Cassian doesn’t hate my favorite dish of stuffed cinnamon toast on a waffle, topped with whipped cream and cherry pie filling. Though he does give it an incredulous look when I drop the plate in front of him. And they really do tip huge before leaving, though not before Wren gives Cass a look I don’t understand and murmurs something in his ear. When I have a second, I look up after they’ve left, only to see Wren sauntering off toward a red car, alone.

And I don’t see Cassian in the parking lot at all.

Around an hour after they left, I happen to glance up from my table to see Cassian across the street, in the same place he’d been when I cut my hand nearly a week ago. My stomach does a little flip, and I have to ask my table to repeat their drink order, thanks to the rushing blood in my ears and the too-loud thoughts bouncing around my brain.

Why is he still here, seems to be the question I consider the most. Because I can’t figure out what he’s doing.

Especially when he disappears and reappears three more times before the seven pm end of my shift. By the time I’m grabbing my keys and waving goodbye to Martha in her office, I’ve come to the conclusion that he’s stalking me.

And the conclusion that it really should bother me more than it does.

In the little employee parking lot I glance around, expecting to see him, only for it to be as empty as it usually is by the time I leave. I’m the only one that gets off at seven, since Jeremy prefers to stick around and do his homework at a table as the diner starts to empty out around eight.

“Maybe I’m just being weird,” I murmur to myself as I slide into the driver’s seat. But part of me is relieved. I hadn’t quite known what to say at the table, and for the whole day I’ve been on edge, though it only really hits now that the adrenaline is fading.

Cassian had been right there almost all day. Seemingly every time I’d looked up, I’d caught sight of him somewhere nearby with a view into the large glass windows of the diner. I sit back against my headrest with a huff and close my eyes hard. A groan leaves me, but I thank my own forethought that I’d taken Friday and Monday off. Normally, Martha might have been hesitant, but she’d known my reasoning without me having to say a thing.

An idea hits me and I tug my phone out of my pocket to tap the word MOM in my contact list. But when it takes her longer than two rings to answer, I start to wonder if she’s going to pick up at all.

She does, at the very last second, and my heart sinks as I hear the rush of noise in the background. She’s not home. “Hello?” Her greeting comes out around a pant, and she sounds like she’s walking fast. “Winnie? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just umm…” God, I feel stupid now. I drum my fingers against the steering wheel, already knowing there’s no need for me to go on. Since I know what her answer will be. “I just got off work and I uh, took Friday and Monday off. So I thought we could, I don’t know, do something fun? I know it’s lame, but you remember how Lou said they’re doing movie nights during October of Halloween movies and snacks? I thought⁠—”

“I would, honey.” Mom is clearly distracted as she interrupts me, and I close my eyes hard. “But I got called away again. It couldn’t wait, and there was no one else who could go. You understand, right?” There’s a touch of apology in her tone, but it doesn’t feel sincere.