38

Adam

The Cash Register Race

Off highway forty-four, we drove into a Snack Attack Shack gas station. As a man who stands by his word, getting those snacks for our snack seat became an issue of honor and honesty.

"Sustenance," I announced solemnly, leaning back to talk to all the occupants in the car. "I plan to do the admirable thing and go scavenge."

"I'm going too," Piper said immediately. Her blonde hair had been kicked up in the drive and it fluttered around her face, finally settling down. There was a pink tinge to her cheeks. A spark in her eyes.

"The more that go, the better chances we have at survival," I allowed, trying to temper back my grin.

"Yeah, and you paid last time. So I'll pay this time."

My grin disappeared. "I didn't agree to that."

"It's a good thing I'm not asking."

I locked the doors as she tried to open hers. She could be stubborn all she wanted, but that didn't mean I was letting my babysitter pay for my atrocious snack bills. Six-foot-four didn't mean I ate a handful of crackers and called it good.

"Ladies?" I raised my eyebrows at Zariah and June, in the back. "What do we want?"

Zariah didn't hesitate. She immediately listed out exactly what she wanted, a greasy hot dog off of an equally greasy roller, every type of topping they could've possibly had, the hard salt and vinegar chips that made your nose hairs curl, and the biggest size slurpee, an unholy mixture of every kind of flavor they had.

I shook my head. "You've been hanging around hockey players too long."

"I'm making up for the shit conference food."

"Okay—run that by me again. What kind of chips?" I asked. "You wanted a hot dog, with the toppings, and…?"

Piper flashed her phone. "Already wrote it down."

"That implies you're going in ." I narrowed my eyes. "And you're not paying."

With a shrug, Piper flipped up the car lock and stepped outside, all long legs and smug smiles. I muttered under my breath. At least I knew I could beat her to the cash register. Piper leaned over the car and smiled expectantly at June. "What did you want?"

"I can't eat gas station food." June sighed. "I've been breaking out, and this will tip me over the edge."

" June, " Zariah said, a firmness to her voice.

"We can get anything you want," Piper sang, motioning towards the gas station.

"Oh…guys…I don't know…"

I unclipped my seatbelt. "Just think about it and text me when you think of something. You don't have to figure it out now, but if something comes to you—"

"The biggest root beer they have," June blurted out. "Like the biggest . The sprinkled donuts with the pink icing—oh my god—I haven't had those in years. And a big bag of off-brand hot chips and lime juice and—oh my god —the honey mustard pretzels? The onion and garlic ones? They're so messy and they always got all over the paperwork and it always drove Xavier crazy—crazy—" She fumbled on the last word as her eyes welled up with tears.

"Don't even worry about it," Piper hurried to say. "We'll get the pretzels!"

Zariah pulled June in for a quick hug, and I slipped out of the car just as fast.

"We're on it," I confirmed.

And when I said that, I meant me . I was on it. As in my wallet and my wallet alone. Not Piper's credit card. But the second my RA burst through that door and didn't hold it open for me, I knew what she was thinking. She wanted to beat me to the cash register. Fat fucking chance. Like she could beat me.

"Holy shit ," the cashier exclaimed when I crashed through the door. "Adam Russell?! You're Adam Russell!"

"In the flesh," I confirmed and made my way to the cool glass, protecting all the drinks.

"What are you doing here?!"

Trying to grab everything I could think of that the girls wanted.

Wait. What the hell did they want?

My mind drew a blank, trying to think of exactly what Zariah asked for, and then June, and then what I wanted. Shit. Piper's sneakers squeaked on the linoleum and I could hear her grabbing and going, back and forth across the aisles.

What did June say?

"Uh—we're on a road trip," I replied to the cashier.

Root beer. June wanted root beer. I leaned down to grab one, but there was a perfectly manicured hand blocking my way. Piper grabbed the largest root beer at the bottom shelf before I even had a chance to figure out which one June wanted. I cursed under my breath and tried to grab the big bag of popcorn from her arms. "Stop boxing me out, ice princess!"

"Be a little faster and I won't have to," she quipped and ducked around me.

Goddammit.

"That's not nice, Piper!" I told her, even as she bustled down one of the aisles.

"Adam would love to take pictures with you, if you want!" she called to the cashier.

My frown deepened, and I glanced off to the cashier behind the counter, a pimple-faced seventeen-year-old kid with the biggest smile in the world. Damnit. She found the perfect way to kneecap me in the race. I smacked the glass door back into place and returned to the counter.

Twenty or thirty photos later, the teenager was grinning ear to ear, practically bouncing on his heels. "We can't wait for the Marrs rodeo. My friends and I—they're not going to fucking believe this, they're going to lose their shit—one of them has a Marrs Manwhore shirt, dude. He doesn't wear it. He can't wear it at school."

I snorted. "Can't imagine why."

"We're going to get beyond trashed at the rodeo," he barreled on, rocking back and forth on his heels. "The whole weekend. It's going to be great. You could hang out with us. We're taking my mom's car, there's seven seats."

Piper cleared her throat, approaching the counter. I helped her as much as she would let me with the junk food, but there was no denying the raised eyebrow and the look between us.

The kid was still talking a million miles a minute about his mom's car. And as appealing as it sounded to be crammed in with some sweaty teenagers, still discovering deodorant, Piper had to know I wasn't dreaming of taking him up on his offer.

" Drinking, " she mouthed, setting the last candy bar on the candy.

Oh, shit. Right .

The kid was definitely underage, and I completely ignored that.

"Uh—I mean—great that you're going to the rodeo. Marrs support," I corrected myself. "But there's…pretty strict underage drinking rules on campus."

Are there?

I had no idea. Ryan had strict rules for the teammates who couldn't drink yet but before him and Coach Lawson took over, I won every drinking contest on campus before I turned twenty-one. But I did know if the kid was somehow recording the conversation, no one was going to be cool with me bypassing the high schooler looking to get shit-faced.

"Nice save," Piper murmured.

"Do people on the street call you Marrs Manwhore?" the kid asked, starting to scan items. "Is that what the girls call you? Do they hang outside your door and say that? Do your teachers call you that? Can you say it for video?"

My reply was quick. "Nope."

"Hey?" Piper nodded towards the gleaming aisles of gas station food. "Adam, you didn't pick out what you want."

"You haven't grabbed anything either, ice princess."

A blush touched her cheeks. "I'll just munch on what everybody else has—"

She doesn't have enough money. Got it.

"I'll make you a deal," I allowed, holding up my wallet. "I'll let you give your credit card to the kid, in exchange, I'll buy what you want."

Piper gave me a long look. "And you mean that?"

"Scout's honor."

The cashier frowned. "Is this your girlfriend? I thought you didn't do that."