I blink. Any other female would feel like he’s coming on to them, but I know better. Owen Adler doesn’t find girls like me worth coming on to. “Whatever.”
“You know you can do the thirty-fives.”
I close my eyes. He was watching me. “Shut up.”
He chuckles beside me, and I want to push him off his stool. I don’t, though. His grin is too cute. It’s all boyish and charming. I should not be attracted to him. I’m setting myself up for failure, yet I ask, “Not that I was looking, but what is the tattoo behind your knee?”
He smirks. “It’s a number six, for my dad and me.”
I don’t react or even seem to care, though, I do. “Cool.”
“Yeah. So why are you here alone?”
I glance over at him. “Why are you?”
Our food comes then, and neither of us answers as we start to eat. His plate looks way different from mine. Since I’d already ordered the fried pickles, I got veggies and chicken. Meanwhile, Owen got pasta with an extra serving of pasta sauce and sirloin and chicken on top. His plate—and him, if I’m honest—looks downright sinful, especially when he drowns everything in Alfredo sauce.
“Want some?” he asks, offering some of his extra sauce, but I shake my head.
“I had fried pickles.”
“And?” he asks, his brow going up into the cap.
“Too many carbs.”
He rolls his eyes. “Jesus, who fucking cares? If you’re hungry, eat. You only live once.”
“Okay, good sir, with your perfect body.”
He jeers. “I’m fluffy.”
“Okay,” I say slowly. “Sure you are.”
“I am, honestly. Pretty sure I have the same thyroid thing my mom and Posey have, but I don’t want that restriction in my life, so I ignore it.”
“That’s incredibly healthy.”
“I think so.” He grins. “Are you drinking vodka with Sprite Zero?”
“I am.”
“You don’t need to. Do you drink all the time?”
“Not at all.”
“Then you can indulge every once in a while.”
I eye him. “Excuse me, but can you even drink?”
“Legally, no. But illegally, yes, and I look so cool with a beer.”
“Oh, I’m sure,” I say sarcastically. “But thanks. You drink your beer, and I’ll drink my vodka Sprite Zero. I know what’s best for my body.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt that,” he says quickly, his eyebrows waggling at me. “But I hate to see someone restrict themselves when they don’t have to. Enjoy life. We only get one.” Slowly, my lips curve up as he continues. “Like, my mom made us eat super clean, and I hated life. All I wanted was some fucking chips or a piece of pie, something. But nope, she’s convinced sugar is killing all of us. That is the only good thing about being away. I can eat whatever the hell I want, and I promote it. We should be happy. There is so much shit going on and so much pain that can be caused. So, if I want to drown my pasta in sauce, I will. And if you want to swim in my sauce and pasta, I’d welcome it. Whatever floats your boat, ya know?”
I want to swim…in all his sauces. Ignore the temptation, Angela! Instead, I focus on his way of thinking, and man, I love it. It’s so freeing but also terrifying. I don’t feel like I got this body by enjoying life; I got it from hating life. Maybe if I change to his thought process, things would be easier?
Who am I kidding? I’m just horny and not thinking clearly.
“Not all of us can eat and not gain weight.”
He shrugs. “But as long as there is balance, then maybe the weight you’ve gained is the weight that you needed?”
I squint at him. “Can that be up for discussion?”
“Hell yeah.” Before he digs in, to his food and our discussion, he stops. “Shit, I forgot to wash my hands. Be right back.” He pauses from getting off the stool. “I’ll know if you lick my sauce.”
I can’t contain the laughter that bubbles out of me, and when his grin grows, my girlie parts cry out for him. He winks and then heads off, like…like… I don’t even know like what, because what in the actual hell is happening here? Why is he being nice to me?
Damn it, I love it.
I shake my head, surprised by how hard I’m smiling. I watch the TV as I wait to eat with Owen. I nurse my vodka, thanking it for keeping me calm through all his smiles and quick wit. I’m not sure what is going on, but I’m enjoying myself immensely. I’m struggling waiting for Owen since I’m starving, but when I glance at my veggies, one carrot is looking extra juicy. It’s only one carrot, so I grab my fork, stabbing it, just as someone taps my shoulder. I look over to see a girl, probably my age and gorgeous. She’s tall, blond hair, big boobs, and a rocking body. Behind her is a table of girls who look just like her, and they’re all watching too.