Chapter Seven

“Cherie and I were talking about going to the mall,” Freyja says, eyes too innocent to be trusted. “You want to tag along?”

I squint at her. “What are you two up to?”

“Just shopping?” She says it like a question, which is never a good sign.

“Uh-huh. Sure.”

“Scout’s honor!”

“You weren’t even a scout.”

“You don’t have to be a scout to understand the concept of honor.”

I roll my eyes. “I give up. Fine. But can we stop for food first? I’m starving.”

“Food court at the mall?” she offers.

“That works.”

“Are we all going,” I ask, “or is this a girls-only ambush?”

“I’m tagging along,” Justin says. “I haven’t seen Frey much this week.”

He says it casually, but the way he looks at her is the kind of loyalty that makes romance authors feral.

“Do you guys want to come?” I ask Addam and Nik, giving them my best pout.

They both groan.

“That’s not fair,” they say in unison.

I grin. “It’s not meant to be.”

Nik points at me like I’ve committed a crime. “You suck.”

I tilt my head. “Nope. I really don’t.”

Both boys visibly regret being alive.

Addam makes a face. “I didn’t need that mental image.”

Nik groans louder. “You went there? On purpose?”

“It’s my birthday,” I say sweetly. “I’m legally allowed to be unbearable.”

“You’re lucky I love you,” Nik mutters.

“I know.”

He sighs dramatically. “Fine. But if I’m being dragged into the mall, you’re riding with me.”

He tugs me toward his cobalt blue ’05 Expedition.

“You want a ride, Addam?”

“That’d be awesome. Thanks.”

As we pull out, Nik glances at me. “We’re getting food first, right?”

“Other than pizza and a cupcake, I’ve had a banana today.”

He gives me the disappointed-parent look. “You know you need more than a banana for breakfast.”

“It wasn’t intentional starvation,” I say.

“It never is with you.”

The parking lot is busy when we arrive.

That familiar neck-crawly feeling returns.

I scan the area, but nothing stands out.

“You alright?” Addam asks quietly.

“Yeah. Just keep getting this feeling someone’s watching me.”

“I get that sometimes too,” he says, like he’s trying to normalize it without dismissing it.

“It’s creepy as hell.”

“Then we ignore the imaginary stalker and celebrate your birthday,” Nik declares.

I smile despite myself. “Yeah. I’m not letting some faceless creep ruin my day.”

Freyja and Cherie meet us near the entrance.

“So,” Freyja says, beaming, “what kind of food are we thinking?”

“The Mongolian place,” I say instantly.

Cherie laughs. “You love that place.”

“Yes. And I don’t apologize for greatness.”

My phone chimes as we head toward the food court.

Berik: Hey sweetheart, I need you and Freyja home at seven for your birthday dinner.

Me: Oki. I’ll tell her.

I pocket my phone.

“Everything okay?” Addam asks.

“Yeah. We just have to be home by seven.”

Freyja checks her phone. “That gives us about three hours.”

“Plenty of time,” I say cautiously.

She smiles like a villain with a shopping addiction. “Three hours is never enough.”

I groan. “You seriously need help.”

“In more ways than one, sis.”

I facepalm. “I don’t need or want details about your sex life.”

She and Cherie dissolve into giggles.

We reach the food court, and Freyja’s eyes flick to my mouth.

“You realize your tongue piercing can attract… attention.”

I groan. “I knew this was going to be more trouble than it was worth.”

“Do you like it?” Addam asks.

I hesitate for half a second, then nod. “Yeah.”

“Then who cares?” he says simply. “It’s your body. Do what makes you feel good in it.”

That line lands heavier than it should.

I smile. “That’s one of the reasons I got it.”

“One of?” Nik asks, suspicious.

“Remember when I pierced my nose?”

He nods.

“My body basically tried to eat the ring. I figured out I reject most piercings.” I tap my tongue. “I still don’t get why this one works.”

“It could be a lot of things,” Justin says. “Genetics, tissue differences, healing patterns.”

We all blink at him.

Nik stares. “That was… smart.”

Justin laughs. “I may be a jock, but I do, in fact, possess a brain.”

Nik looks horrified. “I wasn’t- I didn’t-”

We all crack up as we step up to the Mongolian counter.

“Dude, I’m messing with you,” Justin says. “I know you didn’t mean it like that.”

Nik exhales like he’s been granted parole.