Page 59 of Taking Sides

D-Lows brows rise.

“It’s her favorite movie,” I say to explain.

“Great flick,” Travis says.

D-Low and I both look at him. Trav shrugs. “It is.”

“You like everything,” D-Low tells him.

“That’s true. I’m easy to please.” He grins like he’s proud of that. Come to think of it, he probably is. D-Low makes people feel like part of the group, but Travis is always looking to make sure the mood is high, and everyone is happy.

“How long have you all been friends?” she asks next.

“I was already on the team when Conrad joined. When was that?” Trav asks me. “Three years ago.”

“And I joined a year later,” D-Low says. “So about two years.”

“Is he a good friend?” she asks them while looking at me. Her smile suggests she knows the answer.

“The best,” D-Low and Trav say simultaneously.

She chuckles. “I knew that one. I was just testing you guys.”

“Shep’s salt of the earth.” D-Low lifts his beer to me.

I tip my glass to him in response. “Right back at ya. At least when you aren’t crashing my dates.”

D-Low doesn’t even pretend to look guilty for it. Trav clears his throat to bring our attention to him.

I laugh and then move my glass toward him. “You too, buddy.”

“Oh. I see a friend of mine.” Whitney pushes her chair back, taking the warmth and pressure of her leg from mine in the process. “Sorry. One second. I want to say hi.”

I look toward the restaurant door where a woman with brown hair, a shade or two lighter than Whitney’s, stands next to a tall guy. The woman looks uncomfortable, hands clasped in front of her as she stares at the ground.

Whitney flashes me a grin as she hovers beside me. “Don’t talk shit about my brother while I’m gone.”

FOURTEEN

“Sloane!” I call to my friend as I get to the front of the restaurant. She’s standing next to Doug Moorey, the high school band director.

She glances up, and when she spots me, her eyes widen with something like relief.

I close the last few feet of distance between us. “Hi. What are you doing here?”

I briefly look to Doug, who lifts a hand in a small wave. He’s tall and lanky with a big, booming voice that echoes down the hallway from the band room and across the football field during marching season. He’s so opposite of Sloane that it’s odd to see them together. It occurs to me only now that they’re together. Like, alone together. On a date.

“Hi, Whitney,” Doug says. “Good to see you.”

“Yeah, you too.” I smile at him.

“It’ll be about five minutes,” the hostess tells them. “Can I get a name?”

Doug steps forward to give her details, and I pull Sloane over to the side.

“You’re on a date with Doug?!” I ask as quietly as possible while still hoping to get across my shock.

“No.” She shakes her head. “Yes. I don’t know. He stopped by after school to use the laminator and we got to talking, and the next thing I knew I was agreeing to dinner.” She grimaces.