Tess was referring to that time I walked into an audition freshman year, and broke down in front of the director when he asked me to do my lines. It was very public, very embarrassing, and very much the talk of town for that semester.

“Aww,” Blondie, next to Easton, put a hand to her heart. “That’s so sad, Tessy. You’re givin’ me goose bumps.”

“I wonder what happened to her,” another girl murmured.

“Ground control to Major Shaw? Are you with me?” Karlie poked her head behind my shoulder to see what had turned me into a salt statue.

They stopped in front of us. I trained my face to appear calm, bored, but my heart was thrashing so violently inside my chest, I thought it was going to blast through my bones, cracking its cage in half.

I pinched Karlie’s wrist under the window, signaling, they’re too late, praying she’d let me send them away.

Karlie slapped a hand over her mouth, like the entire Kardashian clan had stopped by.

“Bro, we’re serving ’em. We have plenty of ingredients left. You know Momma Contreras doesn’t play when it comes to leftovers. Besides”—she pinched me back—“it’s them!”

We lived in a small college town, where everyone knew everyone, our D1 football team was worshipped like a religion, game days were church, Easton Braun and Reign De La Salle were holy saints, and West St. Claire was God. We couldn’t refuse them, even if they arrived at three in the morning and paid in human hair.

“Howdy, Grace!” Tess unloaded herself from Reign, drum-rolling the neon-teal truck as she scanned the menu under the window.

“Hi, Tess. Y’all havin’ a good night?”

“Fab, thanks. Reign here says you have margarita slushies with gummy bears. This true?”

So many customers were disappointed by the fact we called them margaritas when there was no tequila inside. “Sure do. Virgin, though.”

“Wouldn’t expect anything else from you,” Reign deadpanned, hiccupping again. The girls burst out in laughter. For the sake of keeping my job—and my butt out of jail—I ignored his jab.

Tess punched his arm. “Don’t mind him. Can we have ten to go? And twenty tacos, por favor.” She gave her shiny hair another toss. “Oh, hi, Charlie.”

Karlie waved at Tess behind me, not bothering to correct her. I hated being the one working the front window, but Mrs. Contreras and Karlie insisted on it. They wanted me to get out of my shell, face the world, yada, yada.

“Soft or crunchy shell?” I asked.

“Half and half.”

“Right quick.”

I got to work, snapping and popping a pair of black elastic gloves. I started with the crunchy shells first. They were harder to work with. They kept breaking all the time, so I liked getting them out of the way. Grandmomma always said people were like tacos—the harder they were, the easier they broke. Being soft meant being adaptive, more flexible.

“When you’re soft, you can contain more. And if you contain more, the world can’t break you.”

I felt everyone’s eyes on my face as I shoved shredded lettuce, cream cheese, and Mrs. Contreras’ homemade guac into the tacos’ tiny mouths. Karlie flipped fish on the grill, bouncing on the soles of her feet excitedly.

In my periphery, I could see Reign shoving his elbow into some girl’s side, jerking his head toward me.

“Psst. Domestic violence?”

“Arson,” the girl suggested, trying to figure out how I got the scar.

“Bad plastic surgery,” a third coughed into her fist. They all snickered.

Heat rose up the back of my neck.

Five more minutes and you’re done. You went through physiotherapy, surgeries, and rehabilitation. You can survive these idiots.

Just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse, West St. Claire finally decided to see what all the fuss was about. He took a step closer to the truck. His eyes zeroed in on the left side of my face, noticing my existence for the first time in the two years we’d attended the same college, even though we shared three classes. I swallowed, trying to push down the baseball-sized ball of puke in my throat.

I finished the crunchy tacos and started on the soft ones. West took another step, not bothering to conceal his open fascination with my scar. I felt naked and raw under his gaze and almost sighed in relief when his eyes tore away from my cheek, landing on the wanted sign. I chanced a quick glance at him. If he’d fought tonight, I couldn’t tell. He looked relaxed and quiet. Tranquil, almost.

“Looking for a job?” Reign snickered.

“Seriously, Reign, zip it,” Easton, who was probably the nicest of the three, barked.

West plucked the paper from the truck, balling it in his fist and tucking it into the back pocket of his jeans.

“Savage,” Reign tutted, inching backward on a cackle, his face tilted up to the sky.

“Way harsh, West.” Tess’ voice lacked that same punishing bite she reserved for Reign. “Why would you do that?”

West ignored them both, turning his head to look directly at me. He rolled the candy stick in his mouth like a toothpick, giving me a look that crammed a loaded question into it.

Whatcha gonna do about it, Toastie?

I poured the margarita slushies in record time and tallied up the bill for Tess while Reign, Easton, and the rest of the girls scurried toward the edge of the parking lot to tuck into the food. West stayed by Tess’ side, his eyes still stuck on my scar.

I braced myself for an insult, my shell hardening like a taco.

“So, I wanted to ask,” Tess purred, taking his wrist and flipping it palm up so his inner bicep was on full display. “What does your tattoo mean? What does A stand for?”

My eyes betrayed me, and I stole a quick look to what she was talking about. It was a simple tattoo of the letter A. No special font or a design. Just one letter, in Times New Roman.

“Probably asshole,” I muttered under my breath.

Both their gazes flew up to me.

Lord. I’d said it aloud. A soon-to-be dead idiot. What was I thinking?

You were thinking that he is an asshole. Because he is.

“Grace.” Tess slapped her mouth. “For shame.”

West spat the candy out on the ground, his slanted, fierce eyes on me. My head was dangerously close to exploding from all the blood rushing into it. After a long stretch of silence, he finally slapped two Benjamins into Tess’ open palm, turned around, and walked away in catlike grace, paying for everyone’s food and drinks. Tess rolled her eyes, handing me the money.

“Sorry about the want ad. West’s got a bit of a mean streak. He’s my work in progress.”

“Ain’t your fault.”

I peeled the plastic gloves off and handed Tess the change. She grabbed my hand and gasped. Her unexpected skin-to-skin contact made me shiver. I wasn’t used to being touched.

“Cool ring! Where’d you get it?”

“It was my momma’s. Here’s your change.”

“Keep it.”

I raised a skeptical eyebrow. That was one hell of a tip.

“You sure?”

She nodded.

“Screw him for acting the way he did. You know, West really gets a bad rep, but honestly, he is a big softie. He can be, like, super sweet when he wants to be.”