“And I stand by my statement.”

I gave her a flat look.

She waved a hand and grinned. “Not saying it’s a bad thing. Some girls go crazy for that shit.”

“Luckily for me, I don’t care.”

“Trust me, I’ve been waiting for the moment some poor girl falls at your feet, and you just blink at her like she’s a math equation you don’t feel like solving.”

I huffed a small laugh. “Doubt that’ll happen.”

She grinned wider. “Oh, it will.” Then, “Speaking of…”

My brows pulled together. “What?”

Before she could respond, I heard it.

That voice.

The one that lived in my bones.

“Oh, look at that. You do work hard for your money.”

My whole body tensed.

I turned my head just as Beverly stepped into view, her lips curved in that familiar, teasing smile, her blonde hair pulled into a ponytail, wearing that same smug expression she always had when she thought she had the upper hand.

Jesus, this girl lived to get under my skin.

God forbid I get a moment of peace.

I stared at her, incredulous. “What are you doing here?”

She gasped, placing a hand over her heart in fake offense. “Wow. Not even a ‘Hey, B, good to see you’?”

I ran my tongue over my teeth, watching as she sauntered toward the counter and placed her elbows on it like she belonged here. “Seriously. Why are you here?”

She smiled, all innocent. “I’m here for a job.”

I blinked. “You what?”

“A job,” she repeated, leaning in slightly. “You know, so I can pay for all those expensive text messages.”

I dragged a hand down my face, already exhausted.

She shrugged. “It’s only fair. You’ve been paying for me this whole time… I can’t keep owing you forever.”

“You don’t need a job, B.”

That was why I was working, after all—so she didn’t have to. To buy her things, to make sure she had everything she needed. Not the other way around.

“I want one.”

“You have school. And dance.”

“So?”

“You hate being told what to do,” I pointed out. “You don’t like working.”

“I like money,” she shot back.

I narrowed my eyes, lowering my voice. “You do realize this job requires you to actually do things, right? Like, stand for hours, serve people food, deal with annoying customers? We both know you’re not going to last two minutes dealing with customers without making fun of them.”

She rolled her eyes and waved a hand. “I can handle it. I can be professional.”

I raised a brow. “Oh, yeah?”

Beverly straightened her back, smoothing out her expression, her voice shifting into something sickly sweet. “Welcome to the movies! How can I ruin your night?”

I stared at her.

Then I laughed, shaking my head. “Jesus Christ.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll pay you back in full.” She winked.

“Go home, Beverly.”