If you could read somebody’s intentions in their eyes, mine would say…
Game on.
Fidgeting with my phone, I watch the waitress pull her third attempt at getting Haze to become more than just a customer. First, it was the “Oops, I dropped something” in front of him. Then, it was the “Oh, no worries. Dessert is on the house”—which, really surprised me, by the way. Turns out she’s the daughter of the owner—but this… this is the best one yet: her phone number on a napkin when Haze asked her to get us more after I made a mess.
I’ll be honest, it’s beyond annoying. But what eases the burn is the way Haze doesn’t seem interested. He’s made sure to pretend he didn’t see her number on the napkin and ripped his eyes away when she gave him a first-class view of her behind. Now, that’s got to take some skills. I think the whole restaurant looked, to be honest.
We spent the meal talking and, surprisingly, laughing. We managed to act like there weren’t a million unresolved issues between us and went back to the way we usually are: chatty and random. But I’m not forgetting the friend stunt he pulled on me earlier. Not even close.
“There you go.” She hands him the bill, her seductive smile fading away when she sees the napkin with her number on it has been used to clean up my mess. I think she’s just starting to realize he has got to be doing it on purpose.
“I got it,” Haze says and reaches for the bill, but I lean forward, stealing it away from his fingers.
“My treat. You’ve been paying a lot recently. What are friends for?”
I’m certain the emphasis I put on my last sentence didn’t go unnoticed, but I don’t dare look up at Haze to catch a glimpse of his reaction.
What I see instead is the waitress and the suspicion crossing her face. It looks like she’s thinking, “Well, damn. These two clearly have their own shit going on.”
“It’s fine. I don’t mind paying.” He leans over the table and takes the bill back from me.
“But—”
He gets a look at the total and taps his credit card on the machine before I can finish my sentence. He offers me a victorious smile and leaves a twenty-dollar bill on the table. The waitress grabs it, tells us to have a good day, and awkwardly walks away. We exit the restaurant in complete silence.
When we pull back onto the road minutes later, I start coughing again.
That’s when he snaps.
“Fine. You win.”
I hold my breath, waiting for him to finally acknowledge the elephant in the room. We’ll never be friends. He knows it. I know it. Let’s stop this nonsense.
“What are you talking about?”
“Don’t even try.”
My heartbeat increases. I sink in my seat, ready for him to destroy the wall of lies standing between us since we got to the lake house.
“You’re obviously getting sick.”
Well, I didn’t see that coming.
“How about this? I’ll tell you one thing you don’t know about me every day that you sleep in my bedroom with me.”
A smile tugs at my lips. That’s not what I was going for, but the fact that he’s worried about me getting sick makes up for it. I narrow my eyes, pretending that I need to think about it first, when, in fact, I know I’ll take whatever he has to give me over pneumonia any day.
“Deal.”
His mouth quirks up into a smile. “Good girl.”
He turns on the radio and upbeat music bursts out of the speakers. What was left of the awkward tension from yesterday is now officially gone.
“So, shoot.” I glance at him.
“What?”
“What’s my first fact about you?”