“Well, look at you. You scrub up okay, young lady.”
I run my finger over my stud nose ring, feeling a little self-conscious.
“Thanks,” I mumble, trying not to sound ungrateful.
“Where are you off to?” he asks while wiping his mouth on a paper napkin.
“To Tristan’s house. You know, Tristan who I work with.”
Grandpa nods as he reaches for his glass of water.
“Ah, Tristan Berkeley. What a nice young boy. How’re you getting there?” he asks, placing his glass on the wooden bench.
“I was going to walk.”
Tristan has given me directions to his house, and although it’s a bit of a walk, the fresh air and exercise will do me good.
“Oh no, you will not,” Hank quickly replies while reaching under the counter, keys in hand.
I wave my palm in front of me, shaking my head swiftly. “No, Hank, I c
