Page 18 of Best Things in Life

I nod, my gut tumbling because I don’t want to ruin her night, don’t want to think of anything going bad for her. She deserves the best. Least I can do is grow a pair and be there for her. So what if it hurts like hell.

“I’ll be there.”

“You going to the homecoming dance Saturday?”

The question surprises me. “Since when did you turn into my mother?”

“Since you started acting like an adolescent. Buck up before you fuck up, boyo.” I smile because she knows the score between me and Sarina. She’s a classic, undaunted by my adolescent behavior. I have a feeling she could cook at a max security prison and have the inmates eating out of her hand.

“I hadn’t planned to go,” I say, knowing very well I’ll get shit from every corner if I don’t—including Coach, who expects the team to be at all major university events. And the homecoming dance at SPU qualifies as the biggest campus event of the year. Students treat it like a gala, a coming-out party, a rite of passage that must be experienced. Where we all debut as our future adult selves and rehearse for our weddings and all other big life events that wait for us.

At the team meeting earlier today, Coach made it clear he expected us to go to the homecoming dance. It’s not a big deal since most of the guys are planning to go. Except me.

Sitting in the back row at the meeting wasn’t exactly good form for a captain, and Coach gave me the stink eye the whole time. But I couldn’t sit with Bigs, couldn’t make small talk, can’t even look him in the fucking eye. Not yet. Maybe not ever, because it’s getting harder, not easier.

I can’t afford to piss Coach off anymore, so I have to go to the homecoming dance whether I like it or not. It’s a fucking disaster waiting to happen unless I get my shit together. Resigning myself to a night of hell, my mind circles around the fact that before I get there, I have to get through dinner tomorrow night with Sarina as assistant chef at BMOC House. And Bigs sitting at the table with me. If I don’t, Majik will poison my food and Bane will cause fucking trouble. Not to mention that I’ll lose the respect of the other guys. Maybe even my own self-respect. Time to man up. No matter how much it makes me bleed.

Chapter 7

SARINA

Based on the reaction of my classmates in my cooking class—which is far from all positive—the cooking stint with Majik is a bigger deal than I realized. And it turns out the homecoming dance is a big deal too. Bigs can’t stop talking about it, about how I could win the crown. I want to spit because I’m not beauty contest material—having nothing to do with my looks—but because I don’t get into the demeaning premise that I should be judged solely on my beauty. Fuck that. We’re in his room and I need to report to the kitchen in a half hour, but I intend to be early.

“What about cooking with Majik tonight?” I say, jumping up from his bed where I’ve been sitting next to him. He holds my hands but I rip them away. “Doing well at BMOC House tonight is more important than getting a fucking homecoming queen crown.” He drags in a deep breath and his brows draw together, though his full-fledged scowl doesn’t pop and I wish it would. I wish we could have a big old-fashioned knock-down-drag-out shouting match. It might help relieve the tension lashing through my shoulders and the jumpy nerves screwing with my gut.

“Of course your cooking is important, but there’s no way you can lose with feeding the guys at BMOC House. They’re a bunch of hungry bastards who would eat shoe leather some nights and not care.”

“Great. Fucking great.” My hands fly up to push back the messy curls that escaped from my ponytail. He smiles because I know he thinks it’s cute when I lose my temper, which only makes me madder, and I raise my voice. “So you’re telling me I’m wasting my time and these guys don’t appreciate good cooking? Because that’s not what I hear—”

“No, that’s not—”

I throw up my hands because I’m done with this conversation.

“I need to go get ready.” I shove past him and run down the stairs like I’m being chased. But the only thing I’m trying to escape is the truth. That Bigs and I may not be the best match. Hell, that’s an understatement.

As soon as I land in the kitchen, I take in a deep breath and try to calm my thudding heart. I want to laugh because Bigs has finally made my heart thud like wild and it’s all because I’m facing down the possibility that we don’t belong together. Fuck. Majik isn’t around. The kitchen is empty, but I head for the pantry where my chef’s coat and hat are stashed. Shrugging into my coat, I close the door behind me and turn to get started in the kitchen. I run smack into the one man who never fails to make my fucking heart thud.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I stare up at him. Our bodies are so close. I need to keep myself in check so I don’t close the small gap and give my body and my heart what they want in spite of the serious reprimanding from my common sense and the true fear that rears up to fuel my anger. Hold onto that anger, girl, that’s what the deserter deserves.

“The fuck is I live here, Sarina.” He keeps his hands at his sides, but I see the passion flare in his eyes and his fists clench like he’s holding back. Pay no attention to the wild pulse in your veins. The spark of guilt from my tiny underused conscience doesn’t slow me down even though he has a point.

“Bigs said you’ve been skipping meals so why the fuck did you come tonight? Don’t mess with me.”

“It’s not always about you, for fuck’s sake. Can’t I just be here for a hot meal because I’m tired of eating cold dinners by myself?”

“Boo-hoo—”

He grabs my arm when I try to go around him. Shit. I can’t look him in the eye, so I stare at his hand, his fingers pressing into my skin, wanting him to pull me into him, wanting to feel his body against mine as if I’m a dying woman and he’s my life-saving medicine.

“What’s wrong?” he asks and my heart leaps to my throat because that’s the worst thing he can say to me, as if he cares. Steeling myself against his warmth, I raise my eyes to meet his.

“Nothing. Not that it’s any of your business.” I wrench my arm free, feeling cold and disoriented the instant his touch is gone. Someone comes in the back door and runs up the back stairs. He lowers his voice.

“I heard you yelling at Bigs. Hell, half the house heard you.”

“So? You know me. It’s my nerves… about tonight. Cooking with Majik has me on edge. And you being here makes it worse. You better fucking behave.” His smile is slow and patronizing.

“I will if you will.”