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I grab the tub full of dirty dishes and push my way through the double doors, back into the restaurant. I stop short when I see who’s sitting at the bar, chatting up the bartender as if he’s an old friend.
Freaking Jackson.
His gaze finds mine immediately. Of course he does. We’re aware of each other, even when we’re pissed at each other. And I am. Pissed.
At Jackson.
I send him a small smile as I march through the restaurant toward the kitchen with my chin held high, trying my best to look dignified but probably failing miserably.
Once I’m in the kitchen, I drop the tub off by the dishwasher and wipe a hand across my brow, pushing aside the flyaway hairs that always come out when I’m working. Why is Jackson here so early? And why is he sitting at the bar? He’s not even twenty. He can’t drink.
It sucks that he shows up at the restaurant when Carson is here too, but Jackson wasn’t aware of his presence. So I guess I can’t be mad at him.
You know what? Yes, I can be mad at him. He wasn’t the one who was supposed to pick me up in the first place. That was Hayden’s job tonight. And she wouldn’t screw up anything I potentially could have with Carson. More like she would encourage it.
If Jackson knows that Carson is out there? He will do his damnedest to sabotage it. Sabotage me and Carson. Which is a total jerk move, but guess what?
Jackson can be a jerk. Especially when it comes to me.
Frowning, I push my way through the kitchen’s double doors, my gaze falling to Carson’s table. They already have their food and they’re digging in, too preoccupied with eating to notice me. Or Jackson.
Who is currently also watching them with a faint sneer on his face.
I glare at him, and as if he can feel my eyes, he lifts his gaze to mine, one brow shooting up. I slowly shake my head, not afraid to show him just how annoyed he makes me feel.
He smiles in return and turns his back on me, chatting up our friendly bartender, Chuck.
Ugh. Jackson Rivers is absolutely infuriating.
Putting extra swing in my step, I make my way to Carson and Jonah’s table, my voice extra loud as I ask, “How’s the food, boys?”
Jonah nods, giving me a thumbs up since his mouth is full.
“Really good,” Carson says with an easy smile, his appreciative gaze streaking down the length of me. I must look a mess since I’ve been working for five hours straight, but he doesn’t seem fazed by my stained T-shirt. “Thanks for the recommendation. The tri-tip sandwich is delicious.”
“Right? It’s my absolute favorite, though after a while when you work here? You get sick of the food,” I admit.
“Yeah. That would kind of ruin it for me,” Carson agrees.
I laugh, as if he told a fantastic joke. Which, you know, he didn’t, so I’m being extra over the top. Trying to be flirty.
Doesn’t come naturally but I’m giving it a whirl.
“Are you ready for the math test tomorrow?” Carson asks me.
I nibble my lower lip and shake my head. “I’ll need to study for it after work.”
“Burn the midnight oil?”
“You know it,” I say with what I hope is a flirty grin.
“If you need help or have a question, you should text me,” he says. “I’m here for you with whatever math needs you may have.”
I blink at him, realizing he’s flirting right back. If I really knew what I was doing, I’d invite him to my apartment so we could study together. But that might send the wrong message, and I barely know this guy. He seems perfectly nice and normal, but I still don’t know him well enough.
“I totally will,” I say, smiling. “You know I’m not great at math.”
“Oh, I remember,” he says before shoving a couple of fries in his mouth.
