Page 37 of Ruthless Edge

I put down my menu and look at her.

She's talking to Owen. I tune back into the conversation. They're on psychology, clinical frameworks, something about attachment theory and a professor they both find irritating. Owen is engaged in a way that makes it clear he's genuinely interested, not performing interest, which I don’t like one bit.

Maybe that's what Emma wants. Someone who gets the academic stuff. Someone who can talk about attachment theory at dinner instead of asking if she watches hockey.

The thought sits badly.

“And I’m stressed about the Mind Over Miles⁠—”

“What’s that?” I ask.

Emma’s gaze slips to me. “It’s a fun run the Student Activities Board is running. I’m not in charge, but I’m helping out, and I’m running in it, but we haven’t recruited nearly enough volunteers.”

“I’m sure it’ll get figured out.” My mind’s already working through that new bit of information.

Madison tugs on my sleeve, then stares at me blankly, so I ask her a question. She tells me something about her major. I ask a follow-up. We have a conversation that is perfectly nice and I retain none of it.

The conversation continues. We order. The couples act like couples. I stare at Emma and try not to seem obvious about it, but I’m watching her date’s every move.

Owen leans forward and says something to Emma in a lower voice, something that makes her smile. I'm watching this happen from six feet away, and the ugly thing in my chest has been getting progressively larger and more crowded for the past hour… and I am running out of room for it.

Then Owen reaches across toward her.

He says, "That’s a beautiful necklace," and his fingers touch the pendant at her neckline, brushing against it, then brushing against the skin of her breasts, and I’m on my feet.

I don't make the decision. It just happens. One second I'm sitting down and the next I'm standing and my shoulder catches the edge of the tray a waiter is carrying past our table and the whole thing goes. Plates. Glasses. Everything. The sound is spectacular. The entire restaurant goes silent.

I look around at everyone looking at me.

"What?" I say. Because they're all staring, and I don’t know what else to say. "That guy just used the cheapest trick in the world to cop a feel."

My sister, Rory, mumbles. “You are so embarrassing.”

Owen has his hand very carefully on the table in front of him. Madison has both hands over her mouth. Rory turns to Jace, as if to ask for help in dealing with me. Sienna is looking at the ceiling. Ethan is looking at me with a mixture of embarrassment and empathy.

The waiter crouches down and starts collecting things. "I'm so sorry," he says. "I'll get this replaced, no charge, of course⁠—"

"It's fine," I say. "I'm sorry, man. That was me."

"It was," Ethan agrees. He's already standing. He wraps a hand around my arm and starts pulling, which I allow because I'm not going to make the waiter's night worse by creating a scene on top of the scene I've already created. "Let's get some air."

I go with him. I'm going, I just take one second to look back through the window at Owen Bennett sitting at the table with Emma and the remains of a very nice dinner, and I try to figure out what exactly he has that I don't.

I can't figure it out.

That's the worst part.

Chapter Ten

Emma

The restaurant is doing its best to pretend nothing happened.

This is a valiant effort and also completely ineffective, because a full tray of food just hit the floor six feet from our table. The staff are still collecting pieces of a plate from under someone else's chair, and the people at the surrounding tables are staring at their own meals, which means they saw everything and are trying to be polite. Our table those… they’re all avoiding eye contact, far too focused on different spots around the room.

Of all the places Owen could have taken me for a surprise, he'd picked a hockey game. The second I'd realized where we were going, my stomach had dropped. I'd spent the entire first period trying to stay small, keep my head down, and hope that Knox Carter, somewhere on that ice, didn't happen to look up into the stands.

He looked up.