Slow Burn Part 18

Wimpy Pete's is a dumpy, slightly greasy burger joint-the kind of place where you don't want to touch the menus with your bare hands, but you know the food's going to be delicious. If that mouthwatering meat and onions aroma is any indication, that is.

The twenty-something waitress greets Dean and Johnny like a starving woman would greet prime rib. Most of her black hair is covered by a bright blue kerchief, retro-style, and her skin is about as porcelain as you can get without being a toilet. Bad comparison. She's very pretty in a hip chick kinda way.

When she's done gushing over the guys, she spots me lingering slightly behind them, and her eyes grow big.

"Oh, my gosh!" she exclaims very loudly. "Is this your little sister? She is the cutest little thing-like a perfect little doll!"

Johnny and Dean smirk at each other while Hip Chick calls someone named Linda to come out and look at how adorable I am. Linda, an older woman with lots and lots of blonde hair piled in a gravity-defying bun, lumbers out from the kitchen. Both women exclaim over me while I momentarily forget I'm not twelve, and smile and blush at their compliments. Some days, you have to take what you can get.

Hip Chick leads us to a booth in the back-but not before asking me if I need a booster seat, and laughing l.u.s.tily at her own wit. Along the way, the guys are stopped a couple of times by people who recognize them. Johnny and Dean are big deals around here, you know. When we used to go out, Johnny would get approached at least once by a football fan, and he'd always be so nice about it. Of course, afterwards, I'd have to slap him around a little-just to put him back in his place. It's real easy for the ego to get crazy out of control when people worship at your feet like that.

Just kidding. I never hit him. Hard. I mean, at all.

A dilemma. We get to the booth, and Dean takes one side, and Johnny slides into the other. I don't know the rules for situations like these-I've never hung out with any of my ex-boyfriends after the relationship ended. Would it be weird to sit next to Johnny now? Is it a little too late for me to be observing the ex protocol after what happened at Mack's? Stupid girl. Oh, I don't care about the weirdness-I want to p.i.s.s him off.

I start lowering my b.u.t.t towards Johnny-straighten-then lower again-then abruptly ram Dean's shoulder with the side of my body, forcing him to move down. I sink awkwardly down in the seat while Johnny pins me with his intense blue-eyed stare. He is p.i.s.sed that I'm not sitting next to him, though he's trying to hide it.

Both boys order the Chubby Burger and fries. The picture looks good on the menu, so I decide to get one, too-though I doubt we'll have a chance to eat all of it. We've got thirty two minutes to be back at school-and I don't plan on going back late and getting in trouble.

After we order, I clear my throat and try to turn to Dean. I wish the booth wasn't so small, or he wasn't so big-I'm at the edge of the bench to avoid touching him while he has one arm resting along the top of the bench in back of me.

"So I was thinking last night," I begin. "I really want to do the Capulets and Montagues versus Friar Lawrence. There's so much we could do with it. I guarantee we'd get an A."

"You're wasting your breath, Teeny," Johnny says with a chuckle. "If it involves acting, Dean won't do it."

Dean squints his light-filled iridescent eyes at him. "Never say never," he says quietly.

I look at him, all excited. "Does that mean you'll do it?"

"No."

Johnny chuckles at my crestfallen expression. "Ah, no, here comes the 'I'm-so-cute-how-can-you-say-no-to-this-look.' Look away, Dean. Look away."

Instead, Dean turns to me amused. "You think that's going to work on me?"

I turn the big eyes on him. "I hear guilt is always a good motivator."

He smirks down at me. "Really?"

Johnny is looking back and forth between the two of us, puzzled. "Guilt?" he repeats, eyebrows raised. There's just a hint of suspicion in his eyes.

I hesitate for a few seconds. I guess I'd better come clean before he gets the wrong idea. Without looking at Dean, I quickly explain some of our shared history to Johnny. As I talk, he looks like he doesn't know whether to laugh, or be angry on my behalf.

He leans back in his seat, shaking his head. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Yeah, Dean," I say accusingly, cutting my eyes toward him. He stares heavenward, barely repressing a sigh.

"Yeah, Dean," Johnny repeats with a grin. "Bullying a sweet little girl like Teeny? Dude, you should be ashamed."

"Do I look proud?" Dean is completely expressionless. "I was ten," he emphasizes.

"That's no excuse." Johnny snorts. "Lots of ten year olds out there don't act like d.i.c.ks."

"That's what I said." I point at Johnny triumphantly.

Our food arrives, for which I'm grateful-mostly because I'm starving. And a little bit because I feel kind of bad for Dean. Johnny has this elated look on his face...I know that look. He's going to give Dean a hard time about this. I should have kept my mouth shut.

"So, Dean," he mumbles, grabbing a fry from his plate. "You doing anything after practice today? Wanna find a couple of old ladies to kick? Maybe throw some kittens off a cliff?"

Dean resolutely ignores him, focusing all of his attention on his ma.s.sive burger. I try to tear a chunk off of mine-I don't want to smear my lipstick by taking a giant bite-and special sauce and shredded lettuce fall all over my hand. Yeck.

"Johnny, it was a long time ago," I say, wiping the back of my hand with a napkin. "It scarred me, of course. But anyone can see Dean's matured into someone who's willing to compromise, try new things-and make up for past transgressions-"

"If I agree to do it, will you stop talking?" Dean growls.

I clamp my lips shut in a big show-though the corners of my mouth are twitching madly. I meet Johnny's bright blue eyes, and we share a conspiratorial look. This is fun. If I had known how easy it is to mess with Dean, Johnny and I could have ganged up on him from the start. Sort of like a menage a trois of bullying-ness. That's not right. Menage a trois-where did that phrase come from?

Oh, my G.o.d. A really dirty picture just popped into my head. Me, Johnny...Dean. Oh, my G.o.d.

Erase! Erase!

"You okay, Teeny?" Johnny leans across the table to study me. "You've got a really weird look on your face."

I shrink down in embarra.s.sment, trying desperately to dispel the images currently bombarding me: smooth hard bodies, muscles flexing and tensing...sweating. Me, in the middle of all that. Oh, stop it, you pervert! I bow my head, letting my hair fall around my face-and oh, look at that. Into my plate of food as well. Now my hair is going to smell like special sauce for the rest of the day. Yes, think of washing my hair. In the shower. With Johnny and Dean helping me.

I clamp my knees together, ignoring the weird tingling in weird parts of my body. Eek! Embarra.s.sing. Don't you dare giggle, Juliet!

"It's nothing," I say, the words coming out strangely m.u.f.fled. I choke on a snort of laughter, which makes me want to bury my red face in my hands.

It's the guys turn to exchange looks. They both appear mystified as I burst into hysterical cackles. I just...I can't-so hot!

Am I total sleaze for even having these crazy thoughts? I swear, they just started in my mind like a dirty movie. I'm so going to h.e.l.l. I need to stop reading those trashy romance novels. But, d.a.m.n...have you ever seen some of those book covers?

"I'd give anything to know what's making you blush like that." Johnny says, sounding only half amused. "Where are your hands, Dean?" he jokes, glancing under the table.

"Johnny!" I yelp, mortified. I can't even look at Dean.

I'm saved by the bell. A chime sounds-Johnny's alert for when he gets a text message. He shifts to the side to get his phone out of his pants pocket, and quickly checks the screen.

One thing about Johnny is he's never secretive about his texts or phone calls. When we were together, and he would receive, like, a billion texts, he would always read them out loud-even though I never asked him about them.

"Party at Mark Wilten's after the game," he announces, looking up at Dean. "You in?"

Dean c.o.c.ks his head to the side, eyes squinted questioningly.

"Bayside," Johnny says in answer to his look. He smirks. "Don't tell me you don't remember-you hooked up with his sister? s.h.i.t, what was her name? The one with the huge...personalities?"

I roll my eyes at his euphemism. He flashes me a quick unapologetic grin.

"Eva," Dean says suddenly. "I never hooked up with her."

"Really? 'Cause that last party at Rooster Joe's-she was all over you like a rash, I heard. Remember that party in Bryant Park, Juliet? The one where Nick fell off that bench, and bust his head open?"

"Oh, yeah, the supposed 'small gathering' at that guy's house. The one with the weird growth on his cheek." I make a vague gesture over my own cheek. "I didn't know you were there, Dean."

He shrugs, looking down at his mostly demolished burger. "I stopped by."

"Oh," I say, sitting up. "Eva was the drunk p.o.r.n star with the giant b.o.o.bs trying to bust out of her shirt?"

Johnny nod once, eyes sparkling. "Oh, yeah."

I turn to Dean in disbelief. "Dude."

"I wouldn't touch her," he says, disgusted.

Johnny smirks at his stepbrother. "Yeah, he has his standards. Dean's holding out for the 'perfect one.'"

"Awwww, Dean! That's so sweet!" I don't believe it for a second, but I flutter my eyelashes at him.

"No, it's true. Right, Dean?"

Johnny meets Dean's eyes in what appears to be a challenging way. An indecipherable look pa.s.ses between them, and I wonder at its meaning. Why is it so s.e.xy when hot guys stare each other down like that? Why do I feel like licking the air? Am I ovulating?

"So, Juliet," Johnny says casually, interrupting my dirty girl thoughts. "You're coming to the party, right? I can pick you up after you get off work."

"Uh, no."

"Oh, come on." He c.o.c.ks his head to the side charmingly. "I'm asking you as a friend. Your buddies Nick and Mack will be there. Mack already said he'll kick my a.s.s if I don't convince you to go."

I hesitate briefly, ignoring Johnny's persuasive look. Why am I even considering this? Because Johnny's obviously going, and I-no, it's not that I want to keep an eye on him. I guess I'm kind of curious how he'll behave at a party, now that we're no longer together. So far he hasn't flirted with any girls at school, but in a different setting, who knows? It's not like I have a claim over him anymore.

"Are you going?" I ask Dean.

He looks surprised that I'd want to know. "Maybe," he replies cautiously.

"You're going," Johnny decides for him. He turns back to me. "Please, Teeny? I promise you'll have fun. I'll make sure of it."

"Can I bring Heather?"

"h.e.l.l, yeah. She'll probably, want to kill me, but...yeah, bring her." Johnny pounds the table victoriously. "Alright! Party in Bayside!"

Fun. "Will the sea harpies be there as well?" I can't help but ask.

"Not if you don't want them to be." Johnny stares at me, absolutely serious.

He really means it. It's kind of cool how he caters to my every whim now, like a well-trained German Sheppard. Or a mafia boss. I can just picture him in a darkened room, sitting behind a giant desk, and giving the order to whack 'em. I can't say I don't envision Kara's death in Technicolor detail.

He's already banished Laundry Room Girl from the group for me-though I swear I never asked him to. Would he get rid of Kara as well? Why is he even friends with her, anyway? She's such a raging b.i.t.c.h. It would serve her right if...

No, I'm not hiding behind Johnny. I can handle Crazy Red.

"Let them come," I say magnanimously, feeling the need to do a queenly wave. "We'll be like one big happy family. Where did all my fries go?"

I glare accusingly at Johnny. He grins back at me. "Fast hands," he says unapologetically.

Next to me, Dean snorts. I just know Johnny meant something dirty by that. And in front of Dean, too!

Hip Chick stops by our table with some coloring crayons and a kids menu. Really, she carries it too far. Dean pays for everyone despite my protests. I hate when people pay for me. Johnny used to like it when I would try to give him money, since I would stuff the bills down his pants pockets. I can't do that to Dean, though...right? No, that would be so weird and wrong. Just wrong. G.o.d, I hope he's not psychic.

Ugh. I'm so sick.

Chapter 17.

"Are you sure I look hot? You're not just saying that, right?"

Heather asks me this for the fiftieth time, and each time she asks me, she blows her peanut b.u.t.ter and vodka breath in my face. It smells weirdly delicious.

Hoping to finally appease her nerves, I slowly scan her from head to foot. Her red blonde hair is down and flowing around her perfectly made up face, and the emerald green halter top she's wearing makes the most of her 32A's. She's wearing jeans, because she looks good in them, and because she's self-conscious of her pale chicken legs. They are a little on the scrawny side, but I'd rather swallow my own tongue than tell her that. She may seem like she has all the self-confidence in the world, but deep down, she's a neurotic ma.s.s of insecurities. I love that about her-I don't know why. That's kind of sick, right?

"You look so hot," I tell her, trying to think what a guy would say. "Like, your body, and stuff. Really s.e.xy."

"My body and stuff?" She rolls her eyes at me. "Thanks a lot, loser."

She grandma-elbows me away from the mirror so she can check out her b.u.t.t, forcing me to go to the bathroom to finish getting ready.

I don't know about my outfit. The breezy little plum dress with the cap sleeves seemed like a good choice, but that was before I put it on. Does it make me look too cutesy? Should I put my hair up, or leave it down? Is my lipstick too dark? I wonder what Johnny will think of this dress. He's never seen it before. I think I will have to hit him if he punches me on the shoulder, and tells me I look sweet.

So, if this treat-me-as-one-of-the-guys thing is some kind of ploy to make me crazy-it's working. I hate to admit it, but it's true. What does that say about me? Do I only want what I can't have? Right now, I really want a peanut b.u.t.ter and jelly sandwich.

"Jule, this party is at the beach, right?" Heather calls, interrupting my inner musings.

I sigh at my reflection in the mirror before heading back to the room. "It's on a private beach in Bayside. The guy, Mark, is super rich. His grandfather invented some kind of little plastic thing that clips into motherboards."

"Great, good for him." Heather smoothes down the front of her top, and looks up at me with anxious eyes. "And you're sure that Sloane will be there?"

"Pretty sure," I reply with a shrug. "When I asked her in cla.s.s today, she made a sound that resembled a maybe. Ben said she'd probably go."

"Which one is Ben? The one with the twin?"

"Ugh, no-that's Jason and Ryan. Ben is the one that looks like that guy from that WB series that just ended?"