SAINT, SINNER, AND THE GIRL IN BETWEEN

Chapter 11: Go Out With Me

RYDER

“Dad, what are you doing?” I call out, Saturday morning as I am about to head to work.

My dad doesn’t even look up from where he is standing, pouring himself coffee like he hadn’t just been warned to avoid it a week ago. “Pouring myself breakfast,” he mutters.

“Dad,” I sigh, stepping back inside. “Caffeine is not breakfast and you know you can’t do that.”

That gets his attention. He turns, fixing me with a look. “Ryder, don’t dad me. I’m the parent, remember?”

“Then act like it,” I fire right back. “Take care of yourself for once so I don’t have to.”

He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “I will fix myself something healthy and I will take my meds. Happy now?”

I hold his gaze for a second, making sure he means it. Then I nod once. “I will be when you actually do it.”

“Fine” he mutters, pouring the coffee in the sink. Then, he scrutinizes me. “Are you going on a date or something?”

“Why?”

“Nothing about your outfit screams diner grease and milkshakes.”

I shrug, trying to play it off. “Can’t I dress nicely for work?”

His gaze lingers on me longer than it should, and I feel heat creep up my neck. But I can’t lie. Even for tutoring, even for the smallest glimpse of time with Calla outside school, I’m not going to downplay it.

“Don’t read too much into it,” I mutter, finally swinging the door open. “I gotta go.”

At the diner, I move like a man possessed. Orders have to be perfect, milkshakes blended just right, and tables wiped clean to a shine. My boss watches me with that raised brow that usually signals a multitude of questions.

“Ryder, did you just suddenly remember how to do your job?” he asks. “Because if I didn’t know better, I would say you are excited about studying. Not about serving the same tables of rowdy teenagers every Saturday.”

“I am actually excited about studying. I do want to go to college you know?”

He just shakes his head and carries on with his work. By the time the first lunch crowd arrives, I have earned my break. And then I see her. She slips through the door and looks around like she is lost, until she spots me.

“Finally, you are here. I almost thought you wouldn’t come,” I say when she walks up.

She tilts her head, her eyes rolling just slightly. “I almost didn’t,” she says, and I notice the tiniest flush dusting her cheeks.

“Yeah, but you were dying to see me, though,” I tease.

Her flush deepens, and I can’t help but grin. “Can we get this over with? And stop acting smug. It’s annoying.”

I bow my head slightly, mock offended. “Right this way, m’lady.” I motion toward the door behind the counter.

She frowns. “Uh... where?”

I grin. “Relax. It’s safe.” I press the button, and the door swings open to a small terrace. It's public but quieter than the diner.

Her shoulders ease. “Okay,” she murmurs, sliding past me.

We settle at a corner table. She doesn’t waste a second to start work. This time, I let her take charge without interrupting, until we are almost done with the math assignment we are doing together, until she initiates the break herself. She yawns, then brushes strands of hair off her face. She looks exhausted. Maybe stressed, or both.

“Can I get you something to eat or drink?”

“I’m good,” she says without looking up.

“Are you sure? You look like you could use a power boost.”

That’s when she finally looks at me. There is a flicker of annoyance there but she gives in. “A strawberry vanilla bean milkshake.”

“Too safe.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’ll be right back,” I tell her, already pushing back my chair.

Inside, I grab two glasses already knowing what I’m getting for myself. When I head back out, she is exactly where I left her, slouched slightly in her chair, her gaze fixed into the distance like she is somewhere else entirely. I set one glass down in front of her. After a second, she reaches for the straw and takes a small sip. I don’t even try to hide that I’m watching her. There is a pause then the tiniest shift in her expression.

I smirk. “Good?”

“It’s fine,” she says, too quickly, setting it down.

I don’t argue. Instead, I lean forward and before she can react, I reach for her glass. She freezes. I take a slow sip ignoring that she is glaring at me. I hum softly, setting it back down in front of her. “Yeah. That tracks.”

“Did you just drink from my milkshake?” she asks, blinking at me like I have lost my mind.

I shrug. “Don’t worry. You won’t die.”

She stares at me, somewhere between annoyed and thrown off, and I can’t help the small grin that tugs at my mouth. Then I slide my glass toward her.

“Try mine.”

She hesitates this time longer than before. Her eyes flick from the glass... to me.... then back again. Then she reaches for it carefully like she is stepping into new territory. She takes a sip, and there is that moment I was waiting for. Her brows lift just slightly, her lips parting before she can stop herself.

“Better?” I say quietly, watching her.

She swallows, setting the glass down a little faster than necessary. Then, she takes another sip before sliding it back and taking hers. “I still like mine better.”

“You are not very convincing, Pierce,” I laugh.

Calla doesn’t say anything, but she tries to hide a smile by sipping at hers again. That tells me everything I need to know. I lean back slightly, letting the moment stretch, my eyes lingering on her longer than they probably should.

The sunlight catches in her hair bringing out these warmer undertones— chestnut maybe, that I hadn’t noticed before. There is a loose piece falling across her face and she doesn’t notice, she is too focused on pretending she is not enjoying herself.

That crease between her brows that shows up when she is thinking too hard has eased. She looks different like this. Less like the girl everyone sees at school, less like the girl always standing beside Miles. She is beautiful and not just in that highschool crush kind of way. And it does something to me.

I know I can’t beat around the bush much longer. I lean forward, lowering my voice. “Calla... would you like to go out with me? Like... on a date?”

Her milkshake nearly tips over. The glass clatters on the table. She gasps, a hand pressed to her chest. “What?”